Page 34

After purchasing her food, she turned to meet up with Liam, catching a glimpse of a square pizza slice amidst all the other savory pastries. Dang it. If she hadn’t been so prideful, she could’ve bought that instead of her rye sandwich.

Scolding herself for already proving Liam’s words right about her regret, she found him standing near the doorway.

“Ready?” he asked, motioning for her to go first.

Together, the two of them made their way down the street across from Big Ben, Claire taking extra care not to become so distracted by the beautiful sight to be left behind.

Deciding to brave the cold instead of finding a crowded place indoors to eat, they followed the busy pathway along the Thames, passing by a red telephone booth.

Claire eyed it longingly. That would be one picture she’d be sure to get without it having to be a selfie—but she’d save it for when she and Melody were together.

Moving past the bridge and makeshift booths, they finally found an empty bench at the side of the road facing the river. She walked up the two steps of the stone pedestal—which the bench was fitted on to see above the barrier to the river—then settled on the far side of the bench.

The cold from the seat instantly filtered through her pants, so she crossed her legs to warm up at least one thigh. The air was bitingly cold, but the sun beaming through the leafless branches of the trees above warmed her shoulders enough to take the edge off of the brisk breeze.

Liam sat down beside her, a foot of distance between them as he rifled through his bag of food. Claire did the same, looking up at the view from the bench as she did so. The London Eye was situated almost directly across from them, the perfectly circular observation wheel vibrantly white in the early afternoon light. Claire glanced to her right, where Big Ben was only just visible through the bare trees, and she shook her head again, amazed that she was actually sitting here for lunch.

“One day, Claire Bear, we’ll tour around all the big cities together,” her parents had promised when she was just a child. “London, Prague, Rome, Paris. It’ll be a dream.”

It was a dream. But she never would have thought she’d be living out that dream without her parents.

“How’s your sandwich?” Liam asked.

Claire refocused her attention on the present, looking to Liam, who’d already tucked into his lunch. The muscles in his jaw flinched pleasantly as he took another bite, steam wafting up from the pastry into the cold air.

She cleared her throat. “Oh, I haven’t tasted it yet.” And she didn’t want to at all. Would it be bad if she just went straight for her ring buns?

She glanced to Liam as he took another bite of his food. The scent made her stomach growl. Did it taste as good as it smelled? “How’s your…What is that?”

He swallowed, raising his pastry. “Sausage roll.”

She nodded, turning away before she could catch another whiff of the food that already smelled better than hers looked.

With a deep breath, she rooted out her meal and peeled back the plastic covering to the sandwich. No delectable scent tickled her nose. That was not a good sign.

With uncertain fingers, she lifted the sandwich, doing her best not to eye it warily before taking a bite.

Instantly, an overpowering assortment of spices, sweet-and-sour-something, and an odd crunch invaded her mouth. There could be only one culprit for such a taste. Branston pickle—which turned out not to be a regular pickle at all. Of course. Of course this would be disgusting.

She managed only three chews before swallowing hard and ending in a barely muted shudder.

“I did warn you,” Liam said from her side.

She looked over at him, annoyed with herself for not being able to hide her disgust. “What are you talking about? This is amazing.”

“Then let’s see you take another bite.”

Claire would rather jump in the frozen Thames. “I will in a minute. I just want to savor what I’ve already eaten.”

He blew out a quick breath through his nose in a sort of scoff. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She eyed him for a minute, considering continuing in her lies before she looked back at the sandwich. What was the point of lying about it? Such food didn’t deserve any false praise.

“Fine,” she said. “I give up. It’s awful.”

Liam smiled with his mouth closed as he chewed, then swallowed. “It’s the relish. I’ve heard it’s an acquired taste, though I have yet to acquire it myself.”

She eyed her sandwich again with as much disdain as her stomach was sure to be feeling right now, having to actually house a bite of the disgusting food.