I side-eye him. He’s arranging his plate so it sitsjust soon the gold charger underneath. Without lifting his head, he glances at me. His expression remains impassive, but his eyes are shining with amusement.
“You look as if you don’t believe me, Hollie,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re a real barrel of laughs, Spencer.”
His face softens with a hint of a smile. We stare at each other until we’re interrupted by a trio of servers arriving with pots of tea and three-tiered stands full of scones, finger sandwiches, and baked goods. My mouth waters as my eyes zero in on the colorful macarons and the assortment of cookies and squares. I nearly do a happy dance in my chair when I spy the pots of clotted cream and strawberry jam meant for the scones. I’ve only ever had clotted cream once, at a fundraiser for a local museum housed in a Victorian mansion, and I’ve wanted more ever since.
Movement beside me makes me look at Spencer. He’s watching me, his head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes alight with mirth.
“I love clotted cream,” I tell him. “I’ve searched for it in every local grocery store, but it’s, like, nine dollars for a pot that’s barely bigger than a jar of baby food.”
I don’t know why I said that. I try to convince myself it’s because I need to talk to him so my friends won’t get suspicious. If I’m honest, the words came out so readily because I’m remembering all the conversations Spencer and I had via the dating site’s private messaging, and how easy it was to talk to him about everything and nothing. Even though I’m still hurt and confused, I’m finally going to get some answers today, so my heart and brain are back to thinking of Spencer as the guy I had a connection with before he disappeared.
“I’ve noticed that myself since living here,” he says. “If you had a container of some sort, you could stow some away in your purse.”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that already. Maybe I should start carrying Tupperware around.”
His low chuckle makes me go warm all over. “Perhaps when you leave, you can see if they’ll sell you some at a discount since you’re the guest of honor today.” He nudges the closest tea tray toward me and motions for me to pick first.
I choose a selection of dainty, crustless sandwiches and then scoop one of the scones onto my plate. “I know you’re supposed to eat the sandwiches first, but…”
“My granny always ate her scones first. Sometimes she’d even skip straight to the biscuits and forgo the sandwiches altogether. She had a real sweet tooth.”
“Sounds like your granny and I would have got along well.” It’s an off-hand remark, but the way Spencer looks at me makes me think he appreciates it.
“I think so too,” he says quietly as he chooses his own sandwiches. “When Fergus invited me to come today, he told me a bit about you and that he’s worked with you on a few projects for the community services center. He said you have a real passion for your job and the people the center serves. My granny was…well, let’s say she was a woman of means with old money and deep pockets. She didn’t work in the traditional sense, but she did a lot of charity work, and much of it was focused on food banks and soup kitchens.”
I angle myself slightly toward Spencer so I can see him better. He hasn’t touched the sandwiches on his plate yet, and he’s twisting the fingers of one hand in the cloth napkin on his lap. “A woman after my own heart,” I say. “Sounds like she was an incredible person.”
His lips quirk up, although his eyes hold a sadness I understand all too well. “She truly was.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, in both Granny’s and your honor, I think I’ll join you in starting with a scone.” He pushes his sandwiches to one side of his plate and plucks a scone from the tray.
“Question,” I say, and Spencer makes a humming sound to indicate he’s listening. “As a Brit, maybe you can settle a debate between Louisa and me. Which goes first: the clotted cream or the jam?”
Spencer’s gaze remains steady on mine for a moment before it shifts past me to Louisa. “I’m almost afraid to answer.”
Louisa and I laugh. “Go on, it’s fine,” she says. “We both already know the supposed ‘correct’ answer.”
Spencer’s gaze returns to me. “Jam first, then clotted cream.”
Louisa lets out a huff at the same time as I say, “Ha! That’s how I learned it, butthisone—” I jerk a thumb in Louisa’s direction—“insists on putting the cream first.”
“Think about it,” Louisa says. “If you were puttingbutterand jam, you’d put the butter first, wouldn’t you?”
Spencer gives what I can only describe as a diplomatic nod. “That’s true. I say you should have it however you prefer. You’re the one eating it, after all.”
“Thank you, Spencer.” Louisa’s grin wavers suddenly and her eyes widen as they dart from me to Spencer and back again. “Spencer,” she says quietly, drawing out his name.
“Yes?” he says.
“Spencer,” she says again, even more softly. Her eyes are locked on mine. She’s figured it out. When I told the girls about the guy who ghosted me on LoveLinks, I gave them Spencer’s screen name—SC—because I didn’t want to speak his name. Louisa encouraged me to talk more about it later, and I told her all the details, including his name. And Spencer isn’t exactly a common name.
I can feel the heat of Spencer’s body as he leans in closer to speak to Louisa. “Yes? Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” I say quickly. I’m still looking at Louisa, and I give her an infinitesimal head shake to let her know now isn’t the time or place to get into this.
“Yes, fine, sorry,” Louisa says. “I…I was just wondering where you stand on adding milk to your tea.”
I grab her hand under the table and squeeze it. She squeezes back.
