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He didn’t respond as the waitress returned to their table. Claire had never received faster service in her entire life.
“There you are,” the woman said, placing Claire’s tab on the table beside her and handing Liam’s directly to his hands.
He took the folder with a nod and a, “Cheers.”
Good grief. Why didn’t he just marry the girl if he loved her so much?
“Did the two of you enjoy your date?” the woman asked.
Wow. Hint, much? Claire had a mind to pretend she was dating Liam, but unfortunately—no, fortunately, he wasn’t Claire’s to claim.
“Oh, we’re not on a date,” Claire responded when Liam remained silent, taking his card back and slipping it in his wallet.
The woman’s face brightened, and she shifted to face Liam directly. “In that case.” She pulled out a small slip of paper from her shirt pocket and slid it across the table with her red nails. “Call me sometime.”
She gave a little wink and sauntered to the opposite side of the restaurant.
Claire watched her with half-hooded eyes. “Wow.”
“What?” Liam asked, looking up from where he signed his name on the receipt.
“Nothing. Just…” She motioned to the slip of paper with the girl’s name and number still on the table. “I guess this sort of thing happens to you often, then?”
He glanced down at it, then a half-smile spread across his lips. “Perhaps.”
She stared at him, then rolled her eyes. Men. They were all the same.
And yet, when they left the restaurant and Claire secured the buttons on her coat, she spied Liam discreetly tossing the slip of paper into the garbage at the side of the restaurant.
She narrowed her eyes, her mind swirling. He’d just…thrown it away. But why? The girl had been so obviously into him. And she wasn’t unattractive, by any stretch of the imagination. How—why—was he not interested in her? Did he not like brunettes? Was he more into blondes?
Her stomach did a funny turn.
“What?” Liam asked, pausing as he straightened the collar of his coat.
Only then did Claire realize she still stared at him.
He must not have realized that she’d seen him toss the number. Instead of confronting him about something she had no business to, Claire shook her head and tore her gaze away.
Night had fallen long ago, bringing with it the frigid cold of early winter. Claire tightened her scarf around her neck and tucked her hands into her coat pocket as she followed Liam in silence down the street. Their way was lit by streetlamps, Christmas lights draped over shops and fresh greenery, and glowing lights from cars and buses beeping their way down the busy road.
People passed them by on the sidewalk, bundled up against the cold, carrying red and green shopping bags and gifts wrapped with flawless bows.
Claire loved this time of year. Everyone seemed to put their best foot forward, sharing extra smiles and greetings and well wishes. But something had always occurred to taint her outlook.
Parents. Boyfriends. No family.
Not this year, though. This year was going to be different. She’d taken charge of the narrative, was unwilling to allow anything to bring her spirits down—her parents being MIA, Melody being sick, Liam being coerced into spending the day with her.
After all, why should any of those things dictate how she felt? She was in England, for heaven’s sake. Not on some cruise, not being cheated on, not being looked over by her parents’ work.
Instead, she was walking around London near…Near what exactly?
She glanced around, hoping to see a landmark or any recognizable buildings, but she found nothing.
“Where are we?” she asked. “I mean, in regard to, like, a well-known site.”
“The Tower of London is just down there,” Liam responded, pointing to a street they approached.
