‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head and continue, but as I lift the bag to drop it into the bin, a warm palm wraps around my wrist and holds it firm.
‘Wait.’ Miller’s low timbre strokes my skin and pulls my eyes to his. Without another word, he claims the bag and takes the two half-eaten salads out, then places the carrier in the rubbish bin before turning and striding over to the homeless man. I watch in astonished silence as Miller reaches him and drops to his haunches, handing the two bowls over, followed by the fleece blanket. Tentative hands accept Miller’s offering and a heavy head nods its thanks. Tears pinch at the back of my eyes and very nearly fall when my perfect part-time gentleman lays a palm on the man’s knee and rubs a reassuring circle into the dirty leg of his jeans. Miller’s actions are delicate, caring and knowing. They are the actions of someone who understands. He’s telling me his story slowly, but with no words. They are not needed. His actions speak volumes, and I’m shocked by them, but most of all saddened.
That lost little boy was still lost.
Until I found him.
I watch closely as Miller rises to his full height and slips his hands into the pockets of his expensive suit trousers, then slowly turns to face me. He just stands there, regarding me carefully as I draw another gut-wrenching conclusion. An orphan? Homeless? I bite painfully on my lip, anything to prevent the threatening sorrow from gushing from my eyes at the sight of my beautifully broken man.
‘Don’t cry,’ he murmurs, closing the distance between us.
I shake my head, feeling silly. ‘I’m sorry.’
My forehead meets the crook under his chin when he’s near enough, holding my distraught body up, and strong arms surround me in his safety. ‘Give him money and he’ll likely buy drugs, alcohol or cigarettes,’ he tells me quietly. ‘Give him food and a blanket, then he’ll sate his hunger and keep warm.’ He kisses the top of my head and breaks away from me, quickly wiping the stream of tears trailing down my cheeks. ‘Do you know how many lost children there are on the streets of London, Olivia?’
I shake my head a little.
‘It’s not all opulence and grandeur. This city is beautiful, but tainted by a dark underworld.’
I absorb his quiet words, feeling ignorant and incredibly guilty. I know he speaks the truth. And I know because not only have I skimmed the edge of it, but also because Miller has been immersed in it his whole life.
His eyes remain focused on mine, a million messages passing between us. Him telling me. And me understanding. ‘I’ve had a wonderful afternoon, thank you.’ He ghosts my eyebrow with his thumb and leans in to kiss my forehead.
‘Me too.’
He smiles and takes his customary hold of my neck, turning me and taking us towards the exit of Hyde Park. ‘We’re going to get caught in the coming downpour if we’re not careful,’ he says, looking up to the sky.
Following his indication, I see the grey clouds have now turned black, and then the huge splash of a fat raindrop on my cheek confirms that Miller is probably right. ‘We’d better run,’ I say quietly. Miller’s suit is already a pile of creases. Sodden material to boot will tip him over the edge.
And with that thought, the heavens open.
‘Oh shit!’ I gasp as I’m suddenly pelted with cold, giant raindrops. ‘Bloody hell!’ It’s relentless, pounding the ground at our feet and splashing up our legs, the sound deafening.
‘Run!’ Miller shouts, but I’m so shocked by the sudden chilliness attacking me, I can’t figure out if he’s alarmed or laughing. But I do run. Fast. Miller grabs my hand and pulls me, and I look up through my wet hair to see his dark waves flattened against his head, water beads coating his face and emphasising his long, dark lashes.
The sight makes me stop dead in my tracks and causes Miller to lose grip of my wet hand, our skin slipping apart. He skids to a halt and turns the most incredibly bright blues onto me. ‘Olivia, come on.’ He’s saturated, wet through, totally drowned. He looks obscenely handsome, if a little panicked.
‘Kiss me,’ I demand, remaining static, ignoring the pounding of rain that’s now making my flesh numb from the cold.
His stunning brow furrows. It makes me smile. ‘What?’
‘I said kiss me!’ I shout over the thundering rain, wondering if he really didn’t catch it.
He laughs a little, widening his stance, and then casts his eyes around us and relaxes in his standing pose. I keep my eyes on him. Nothing will pull them away. I wait for Miller to absorb our surroundings, now unbothered and unaffected by the relentless rain.