“Of course I am. But still, if my aunt has something to do with sending you around London on dates, it clearly must be benefiting her in some way.”
“I already told you, I’m doing this for god and country.”
Someone walks in then, and I’m almost certain it’s James. British Boyfriend #2. I’m filled with dread, then relief when he sits down with a group in the corner.
“Look,” I say, turning to Liam once again, “if you must know, I’m working on a project with your aunt. She needs stories about the current dating arena, so I signed up for an app and am meeting up with guys while I’m here.”
Liam seems taken aback but not as much as I would have thought. “So, you’re not actually interested in meeting anyone?” he asks.
“Not particularly, no.”
“Then why do it? Surely this is a bit outside the realm of your job description?”
“I agreed to do it because in exchange, Juliette is going to help develop the play I’m working on.”
Liam considers me carefully before saying, “That sounds like a pretty manipulative request on her end.”
The café door opens again, and I start to feel a little frantic, not wanting to explain a random British guy to another random British guy. “Okay, so now that you know everything, will you please leave?”
“How about this. Let’s grab a bite to eat later on, and then we can figure out this situation of yours together.”
“No,” I say, instinctively digging in my heels.
“Why not? I have plenty of stories you could bring to my aunt, and I’m not a stranger. I also carry the added bonus of not being a secret psycho.”
“That fact remains to be seen.”
“Listen, I’m only trying to be helpful. If you truly want me to go, I will.”
I know he will. The problem is, I don’t want him to.
“Fine,” I ultimately answer. “But this can’t be a full-fledged date or anything. Drinks only.”
“Deal. Meet me at the Red Lion in Westminster at five o’clock.” He gets up and takes my hand. I know I should pull it away, but I don’t. “I wish you the best of luck on your upcoming liaison. No doubt we’ll be hearing the chime of wedding bells before the week is out.”
Then I do snatch my hand back. “Thank you for the well wishes. Now please go back to the depths from which you came.”
“I’m on my way.” He picks up his phone and coffee and turns to leave, making it two steps until he’s suddenly back in front of me. “Quick question, though, before we take things further. Is there any chance that you’re currently still pining over your college ex-boyfriend who you’re desperately hoping to reunite with someday?”
“Ugh, no. My college boyfriend is gross, and I’m pretty sure he’s currently doing a stint in prison.”
“Excellent, just had to double-check. See you tonight!”
An hour later, I walk back into the penthouse where Juliette is typing on her computer at her living room desk. She twists around and gazes up at me as I close the door behind me.
“Well?” she asks hopefully.
“James was a no-show.”
Juliette drops her head down with a groan before whipping back up to look at me. “Why is this happening? What is wrong with your generation?”
“I’ve been asking myself that very question for years,” I tell her, doing my best to sound as crestfallen as she does.
“Maybe he was hit by a bus,” Juliette muses. “Or better yet, maybeI’llget hit by a bus, and then I won’t have to keep enduring this endless agony.”
I look around at her glorious penthouse and give her a knowing look. “It feels like you might be slightly out of touch with reality at the moment.”
Juliette shakes her head, turning back to the laptop and refocusing. “We’ve just had some bad luck. You’re a lovely, inquisitive girl, and there is no reason whatsoever that suitors shouldn’t be lining up to take you out.”
