Unsurprisingly, the food is as scrumptious as it is beautiful. The sandwiches—cream cheese and figs, prosciutto and Brie—melt in my mouth. And the desserts look like they were created by the Star Bakers onThe Great British Bake Off. There are custard tartlets topped with red raspberries, tiny cups of silky orange panna cotta, perfectly cut squares of moist Earl Grey cake, and chocolate mousse swirled into milk chocolate cups. I’ve been transported inside my English Tea Pinterest page.
“I’m not ungrateful,” Will says out of the blue. I freeze, teapot in hand. His eyes are wide, like he’s trying to persuade me of something. “For this lifestyle, I mean. I hope I didn’t come across that way before. I know how lucky I am. It’s only...” His hand grips the delicate teacup too tightly. “There’s always a deal to negotiate or a client to woo or some dire issue that he has to fix that minute. It’s been like that for as long as I can remember. That’s why Mum would plan holidays for us. She thought we could all have time together if we left the country, but he’d usually back out last-minute. She barely asks him anymore.” Will speaks more quickly now. “I can’t remember the last time he asked about my friends, or what I was interested in lately, or what I’m doing at the weekend. I can’t remember the last time we talked aboutanythingbut work and school.”
Will’s words carry and a few people turn to look at us. I put down the teapot and lean forward, taking his hand. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “So you haven’t talked about your restaurant investment either, then?”
“I tried. He listened for exactly thirty seconds before cutting me off and telling me to stop ‘wanking about with witless ideas.’ Every idea is stupid unless he comes up with it.”
I squeeze his hand, my heart aching at the bitterness in his eyes. His relationship reminds me how lucky I am to have Mom.
“He’s being horrible. How are you supposed to know what you want to do with the rest of your life if he never gives you the freedom to try?”
“Right.” He almost knocks over his teacup in his rush to lean closer. “It’s so good to talk to you. No one else gets it.” He lifts my hand to his lips and closes his eyes. When he opens them again,the storm inside him seems to have settled. I love that I somehow have the power to do that for him.
After we finish lunch, Will takes me through the ritzy Burlington Arcade—a beautiful shopping center full of clothing and jewelry too expensive to breathe on—and then we meander through the streets into Green Park. I spy some huge pine cones on the ground and almost stoop to grab them before changing my mind. It’s too bad. Pine cones like that are the perfect material for fairy house roofs.
“Did you go to school around here?” I ask instead.
“No, Father insisted I go to Harrow.”
“What’s Harrow?”
His eyes widen in surprise. “A boys’ boarding school.”
“Boarding school?” I can’t help chuckling as my brain fills with images of little boys in sweater vests and ties. “What was it like?”
He ducks his head. “It was... like another home. Frank and I met there years ago. All my friends are from there.”
“Did you wear uniforms? And have houses like Hogwarts?”
“Uniforms, yes. Hogwarts houses, definitely no.”
“Was it more like the boarding school inNever Let Me Go?”
He blinks. “Uh, I’m not sure. I don’t really remember that film.”
“Wait, have you not read the book? It’s so good.”
“I’ve never been much of a reader. Is it long? I can’t make it through long books.”
I have to press my lips together to stop from yelling out.Pleasetell me he doesn’t watch movie adaptations before reading the books?
“Have you tried listening to audiobooks instead? Sometimes those can be almost better than reading the hardcovers.”
“Eh, I never had any interest in them.”
“Oh.”
Will wraps his hand around mine and leads me down the path. “Come on, let’s keep walking.”
He takes me along the sidewalk that surrounds the park. I’m aggravated that he’s not listening to me, but my mood softens as we walk farther.
I love seeing the families playing in the grass and the young couples strolling hand in hand. It’s surreal to be one of those couples. Will points out the massive golden gate in the distance that separates tourists from Buckingham Palace, then tugs us down onto one of the benches that line the pathway and angles toward me.
“I’m so happy you came to London today. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if Frank hadn’t forced me to go to that flea market. We’d never have met.” He takes a deep breath. “And you would never have rescued me.”
I sit back in surprise. “I didn’t rescue you.”
“What do you think you’re doing right now?”
