Audi before, Range Rover today. I’m not a petrolhead. A car is to get you from A to B, as far as I’m concerned, though I do own a few of them. One of the perks of being worth a penny or two is the ability to buy a new motor without the inconvenience or necessity of having to sell the previous one. Anyway, I left the Audi at home in favor of something more solid, my responsibilities this morning already feeling quite profound.
I loosen my belt, and Ryan is out of the car before I can get there to help.
“I was joking about the parking tickets before,” she says, straightening her oatmeal-colored coat. “But maybe you weren’t.”
I find myself staring at her. At least it’s not raining today, because her coat doesn’t even have buttons. She is as cute as a button, though. All that dark hair flowing from under her adorable bobble hat, coat almost trailing her ankles.
“Matt?”
“Huh? What?”
“Don’t tell me.” She’s all taunt and mischievous grin as she tightens the belt on her coat. “You’re frowning because you wanted to open the car door for me.”
“Well, yeah.”But not as much as I wanted to stick my hand up your sweater to see if you have an undershirt on. For starters, at least.What the fuck is wrong with me this morning? “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of chivalry, is there?”
“What do you suppose God gave me these for?” she retorts, making jazz hands.
“Maybe for this,” I say, taking one of them and linking my fingers between hers. We set off along the road.
“So we’re holding hands now?” she says, slanting her gaze my way. And by that, I mean upward. Her boots aren’t heeled, which really emphasizes the height difference between us.
“Looks that way.”Sure, she’s only two hands higher than a duck,I hear my mother say. I can’t wait for that lot to meet her. I’ve just got one or two things to take care of first. Like getting her to stay. “And you look to be enjoyin’ it, what with your cheeks so pink.”
“Dream on,” she retorts as she tries to pull her hand from mine.Not a chance, darlin’.“It’s just cold.” She uses her free hand to adjust her hat as though to prove her point. “What? It is!”
“Give it up,” I say, flicking its baby blue pom-pom. “It’s positively balmy out.” The sun is shining, at least.
“And that’s why my breath is half ice particles?” To prove a point, she purses her lips, blowing a breath of air like a kiss.
Lucky air.
“Wait till February,” I retort. “Then you’ll know what cold really is.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I’m cursing them. Beside me, Ryan falls quiet and stares at her feet.
“It’s a nice neighborhood, isn’t it?” I try again after a minute or two.
“Let’s see if you’re still saying that when we get back and you’ve been towed.”
“Nah, not today. I’m feeling lucky.”
She glances around at the houses, a mix of redbrick and white stucco, which I’ve always thought look like old-fashioned Christmas cakes.
“Looks like a pretty pricey neighborhood,” she says, glancing at a street sign. “The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea,” she says, eyebrows raised and a touch of hoity-toity in her voice.
“I know. Can you believe they let the likes of me walk the streets?”
“You think they don’t like nice guys around here, huh?”
“Well mannered, notnice.”
This time, she refuses to look my way.
A few minutes later we walk under the green-and-gold canopy of a tiny hole-in-the-wall Italian bakery.
“Pastries for breakfast?” Ryan says. “Do you have a secret sweet tooth?”
“They do great coffee here,” I say in lieu of telling her the truth. That I have a hankering for the sweet saltiness of a girl called Ryan. They also have something I hope she’ll like. Something that Clodagh might like too.Maybe I’ll get her takeout and drop it off for her after school.
The bell above the door chimes as I push it open. It’s not a café, just a bakery. No tables and chairs. Not that it matters, as we have another destination.
