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Richard would always say on their dates, “I’m not flirting, Claire, I’m just being friendly.”

Yeah, friendly. Then he must have just been being “friendly” by inviting his ex to stay with him overnight at the Christmas Lodge, too.

Clearing her mind from her gloomy thoughts, Claire reached for her small purse atop her coat on the chair beside her, only to discover the purse wasn’t there. Her stomach plummeted as she shuffled aside her coat and cast her eyes to the chair beside her, across the table, and all around the floor without a single sight of the purse.

Had she left it on the Underground? Or had someone swiped it without her noticing?

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked across from her.

She frowned. “I can’t find my purse.”

His eyes roved across the table. “Did you have it with you when you left my mum’s?”

Mum. He was so wonderfully British.

Focus, Claire.

“Yeah, but…” Wait. Had she had it?

She closed her eyes, picturing the moment she’d attempted to leave Tasha’s in a mad dash so Liam wouldn’t feel obligated to join her. Then, as clear as day, she visualized the purse she’d left behind on the table beside the couch.

Dang it all. She’d taken her traveling Oyster card out of the purse for ease of access, housing it in her coat pocket instead. If only she would have left it in the purse, she could have realized she’d actually left both at home earlier.

Slowly, she met Liam’s gaze with a wince. “I think I left it there.”

“It’s no problem,” he said at once, reaching for her tab.

There he went again, being all benevolent.

“Well tell me what it costs, and I’ll just Venmo you the money.”

“It’s fine. Really.” He slipped his card into his own black folder, then a few pound notes into hers.

She pulled out her phone, shaking her head as she tapped on the app and waited for it to load. “No, come on. I’m gonna pay for my own meal.”

The waitress returned, and Claire didn’t notice—or rather, tried not to notice—as the woman’s coquettish smile and lingering gaze landed on Liam before she left with the payments.

Annoyed that Liam still hadn’t told her the cost—or was she annoyed that he’d smiled at the waitress again?—Claire tapped impatiently on the table. “Come on. How much was it?”

“Uh, seven hundred quid,” he exaggerated.

Quid. That had to mean money, right?

She dropped her chin. “You’ll be sorry when you wake up to find that much money in your account tomorrow.”

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips as if in confusion. “No, I believe you’d be the sorry one in that situation.”

She laughed, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Fine. I think it was twenty pounds, so I’ll just pay you that.”

She looked down at her phone, only to discover the app had delivered a “Failure to Upload” message.

She growled in frustration. Stupid crap service.

“Having some trouble?”

She glanced up, amusement playing on his lips.

With a wave of her hand, she slipped her phone into her back pocket. “It’s fine. I’ll just pay you when we get back to your mom’s house.”