What the fuck?
I’m never jealous of the chick I’m attracted to. Not even possessive. I simply never care deeply enough for those emotions. Feeling that way about Margot Nolan while waiting to meet and woo the Key to the Key augurs nothing good.
I’ll nip this in the bud. Peter can have her.
CHAPTER9
JONAS
Liam bows. “That’s it. The Jane Austen Bloomsbury and Beyond Walking Tour is officially over.”
Sandra launches a round of cheers before we retrace our steps on Grosvenor Street and cut through Soho on our way back to Bloomsbury.
My phone rings as we navigate the winding streets of London’s most vibrant and Bohemian neighborhood. It’s Leo, aka Prince LeonardoXavier di Borbone, Duke of Savoy, and my best friend since childhood.
“I’m in London,” he says.
“Ha! Me, too.”
“I know.” He tee-hees. “I just bought two last-minute tickets to your show for my current girlfriend and myself.”
“Which night?”
“The last one, next Saturday.”
That’s when I’ll be chasing Giselle.
“Can you change your tickets to any other night?” I ask Leo. “I won’t have time for you, which would be a shame, seeing as we’re rarely in the same place at the same time, and I haven’t met your new girlfriend.”
“First, this girlfriend will last as long as the previous one, which is not very long. Second, your show is sold out, man! I was lucky to get two tickets.”
“Hold on,” I say to Leo before catching up with Sandra. “Is it OK if I skip the rest of the afternoon? An old friend is in town.”
She nods. “As long as you’re there all day tomorrow for the dress rehearsal and test performance.”
I whisper thank you to her and then ask Leo, “How far are you from Soho or Bloomsbury?”
“Fifteen minutes, unless there’s a traffic jam.”
“Meet me at The French House,” I say.
The legendary pub, which boasts such patrons as Charles de Gaulle and Dylan Thomas, is my favorite watering hole in Soho.
Twenty minutes later, Leo and I are nursing half pints at a table for two in the back.
“How is Matteo doing?” Leo asks.
Ever since Matteo could walk and talk, he and Leo have been getting on like a house on fire regardless of how often they see each other.
I pull out my phone. “Want to say hi? He should be back from school now.”
“Absolutely!”
I call up the nanny’s number. She says they’re outside in the castle’s park, and she’ll get Matteo.
“Matteo! I have your dad and Leo on the phone!”
The jingle of Matteo’s delighted laughter reaches me first. Then he takes the phone from her and I see his face on the screen, glowing with excitement. His wool hat is askew on his head. He readjusts it, panting to catch his breath, cheeks rosy from the cold. The white snow dust on his coat glints in the sun.
