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“Everything’s fine. Can you talk?”

The man behind the register passes me the bag of clothes, sliding the receipt inside it. I nod him a thanks and step out.

“I can, what’s up?”

“I sent your proposal to Tim at North Atlantic Quarterly. He wants you to go ahead and write it. The contract could take a few days, and it’s payment on publication, but it’s a go.”

I grin, feeling stupidly giddy. “Oh God, that’s great.”

“I passed your email onto him. I hope that’s okay,” he says. I walk out into the throng of people. I decided to shop in the mall near St Paul’s Cathedral, thinking it would be quieter than the one on Oxford Street, but really it’s just as crowded here. Only less with tourists and more with locals and finance people who work in the offices nearby. “But keep it on the downlow for now,” Sam tells me. “I don’t want anybody at Meridien to know that you’re moonlighting. Let’s not give them a reason to push you out before you’re ready.”

“Of course. Thanks Sam, I really appreciate it.” I can’t hide the grin on my face.

He clears his throat. “Tim also mentioned a vacancy they have coming up for a staff writer. He hinted that if the feature goes well, they’d be interested in taking you on. I think he was feeling me out, checking to see if I’d let you go. I made it clear I’d never stand in the way of your career.”

My chest tightens. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”

“Nothing kind about it. You deserve it. Now go and enjoy the rest of your vacation. And make sure you write a kick ass article once you’re back from your travels.”

He hangs up and I start thinking about research angles and timelines for drafting. If I make some notes over the next few days, I should be able to get the article written and edited within a week or two of being home.

And then I barrel into a man without noticing he’s there.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” I babble, trying to keep hold of my bags.

“Georgia?”

I look up. “Caleb,” I say, a grin pulling at my lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Coming back from a meeting. I work over there.” He points at a shiny office building next to the shopping mall. “Why are you here?”

“I had to go shopping,” I tell him. “Trying to capture my inner Princess of Wales.”

He frowns.

“I’m going to Ravensmere with Theo this weekend,” I explain. “I need some clothes to take.”

Caleb blinks. “Theo’s taking you to the party?”

“You know about it?”

“I was invited. Wasn’t planning on going but if Theo is, I probably will.” He looks at his watch, then at me. “Got time for a drink?”

“Isn’t it lunchtime?”

“Yes. But it’s almost Christmas, which makes it practically mandatory to start drinking if you’re a Brit.”

“Who am I to buck tradition?” I ask. “Let’s drink.”

He takes me down a little alleyway to a redbrick building that looks like it’s been here for centuries. A little forlorn sign hangs from a rusty hook, proclaiming we’re walking into Lantern and Ledger. It’s just as quaint inside as out. Low beams cause Caleb to duck as he leads me to the bar, where he orders me a glass of wine, and himself a pint of beer.

There are two open stools next to the bar, so we take them. He’s wearing a dark navy suit, tailored perfectly, but he still looks like a bit of a bruiser underneath.

“So,” he says when the barman puts our drinks down on the counter. “You and Theo.”

I take a sip of my wine. “Is this going to be another grilling?” I ask. “Because I already had one from his mom yesterday.”

“You met Penny?” The seriousness melts away from his face, replaced by an amused grin. “And you survived.” He winks. “I love Americans. Full of grit.”