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“That’s what she said,” I quip. This time when he laughs, it’s a full blown guffaw.

Serious Theo is attractive. Laughing Theo is devastating.

“Now go,” I tell him, pushing at his chest. God, it’s like pushing at a tank.

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. “For today, for tonight. For tomorrow.”

He kisses me one more time, this time lingering long enough for his palm to settle on my back and pull me against him. And yeah, apparently I’ve already made all of him hard. Go me.

And when he leaves, I’m still smiling. It feels like I’m walking on air as I close the door behind him.

God, I like him. Very much indeed. I just hope we don’t get interrupted tomorrow.

A missed call from my mom lights up my screen when I check my phone, along with a message she must have sent when she was sent straight to voicemail. Not to mention a whole lot of Instagram alerts that tell me half the people who know me have liked a post I’ve been tagged in.

It’s an hour later and I’m wrapped in the fluffy Hunt Hotel embossed robe, my hair damp from the bath I’ve spent the last forty minutes luxuriating in.

And while I was in there, one of the staff came into my room to turn down the bed and leave a chocolate on my pillow. They also turned on the Christmas tree lights. I take a seat in the plush armchair that faces the window overlooking the river and read my mom’s message.

Patrick called me. Said something about Instagram, and that he’s worried about you. I told him you were living your best life and to leave you alone. I hope that’s okay. – Mom

I bite down a smile. That’s so my mom. She’s restrained but if you hurt somebody she loves, she’ll make sure you know it. I hit the phone icon next to her name and she answers almost right away.

“Hi honey.” Her voice is full of warmth. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine, honestly,” I tell her. “I’m sorry Patrick called you. You should block him.”

“Gah. It was nice to be able to tell him what an asshole he is. Can you believe he had the gall to call me?”

“We both know you didn’t call him an asshole,” I say, amused. Because my mom doesn’t use that sort of language. Not with anybody she doesn’t like, anyway. For them she reserves icy politeness.

She lets out a huff. “Okay, I explained very nicely that men who treat women that love them badly deserve everything they get. Including diseases on their…”

“Mom!” I laugh. “You didn’t say that either.”

“It doesn’t matter what I said,” she tells me. “All I care about is you. And how you’re doing. Are you enjoying your time in London?”

“I am,” I say softly. “I’m not sitting here moping, I promise.”

“Oh, that’s good. What did you do today? Go anywhere interesting?”

“I went to a little girl’s birthday party,” I tell her, deciding the brief version would probably be the best option. I don’t have time to explain Theo. Or the words, right now. And knowing my mom she’ll ask too many questions I don’t have the answer to.

“You did?” Yep, she sounds pleased. “Where? Whose little girl?”

“It’s a long story,” I tell her. “But it was fun and she’s gorgeous. So that was good.” I pause. “And how are you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. Everything’s great here. I finish work for the holidays in a few days. All my gifts are wrapped. Yours are waiting for when you come back.”

I picture the tiny plastic tree she’s had ever since I was little. No matter how tight things were, she always made sure there were plenty of gifts under there for me.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

She snorts. “Of course I did. You’re my girl.”

She was always big on Christmases. Birthdays, too. Maybe that’s why Beckett’s talk of not putting the holiday decorations up until after Daisy’s birthday made me melt.

“I miss you,” I tell her.