She smiled. “I rest my case.”
I looked through the rack in front of me. Hopefully Darcy would do the same and get distracted. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore because it reminded me that we didn’t have long left—that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make plans for a future with this man.
“You could just invite him. Tell him that you don’t expect him to say yes. You never know, he might be offended if you don’t ask him.”
“I doubt it. He’s happy when he’s working. He’s not the type to enjoy making polite conversation with a bunch of strangers.” There was no way that Alexander would come to a Thanksgiving dinner in the country out of choice, and I didn’t want him to do anything just to make me happy. I’d start to rely on him, expect things from him, and that could only lead to trouble.
“Hey,” Darcy objected, focusing all her attention on me.
“Well, you are a bunch of strangers to him. Just because you’re all my favorite people doesn’t change that.”
“I don’t see what you’ve got to lose by extending the invitation to him.”
“You’re pushy for someone so little,” I said, narrowing my eyes.
She grinned proudly. “I know. I really want to meet this guy. If you can find love, it gives me hope.”
“It’s not love,” I scoffed. “It’s so not love, you lunatic.”
“What is it then?” she asked, holding an electric blue shift dress up to my body and shaking her head.
“It’s good sex.” But even I knew it was more than that. It felt like the real thing. Like something that wasn’t all about the moment, but something I could imagine in the future. “And I told you, he makes me laugh.” There were so many things I liked about Alexander. His integrity and the way he’d never said anything bad about his ex-wife. The way he’d said yes to my picnic even though I was sure it was his idea of hell. The way that if he was in the office he’d always call me just before I went to bed to wish me sweet dreams. The thoughtfulness of the gifts he had delivered to me at work. The way his grumpy, concentrating face turned into a smile when he saw me. He made me feel good. He made me feel smart. And he was loyal and decent. He’d never, ever do what David did to me.
It so wasn’t just good sex.
Fuck.
“So, invite him. He can make us all laugh.”
“He’s not a circus monkey.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll think about it. But only if we can go to Forever 21.”
I wanted to stop contemplating all the things I liked about Knightley. I hadn’t been looking for anything other than a kiss and a cocktail when I’d come to London. I certainly hadn’t been looking for a boyfriend or a career. I wasn’t here to find someone to introduce to my family. I didn’t want to get attached to someone I would pine for when I went home. But at the same time I was going to be out of London for four days and already I’d miss him. We didn’t have long left, and I wanted to make the most of the time I had with him.
I’d ask him to Thanksgiving. He’d say no because he knew the score. He knew everything we weren’t. Then it would be over with, and I’d stop thinking about him in terms of the future and keep him in the present.
Twenty-Six
Alexander
I’d finally agreed to have a junior barrister in my office. As usual, it had been a selfish decision—ultimately it would assist me in progressing the cases I took on if I learned to work with juniors.
I smiled at the knock on the door. Not only was she persuasive, Violet King seemed to know everyone’s movements at all times. She never came into my office when my roommate, Sebastian, was there. He’d left about ten minutes ago.
“Come in,” I replied.
She slipped in quickly. “You have to bark more when you say it. Otherwise people will suspect something. Anyway, how did you know it was me?”
I chuckled. “You’re ridiculous. What do you want?”
“I see Mr. Charm has returned. I’m going out for my lunch and just wondered if I could get you anything?”
I leaned back in my chair. “Actually, I’ll come with you. I need to stretch my legs.”
“I’m not going straight to get food,” she said, a slightly panicked look on her face. “I’m going to a museum first. But I’ll be back in an hour if you want me to get you something.”
It struck me that Violet had a secret life that went on without me while I was working. She’d mentioned that she’d gone to the Museum of London a couple of weeks ago, but this was clearly a regular thing. I found myself a little envious, both that she had the time to take herself off and spend her time as she wished and that her time wasn’t spent with me. “Why don’t I come with you?” I asked.
“To the museum?” She frowned as if she’d misheard me.
“Yeah. Where are you going?”
“Some dude’s house just over there.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Sir John something.”
“Soane.”
“So, you’ve been. You don’t want to go again, do you?”
Sir John Soane’s museum had been one of my favorite places to go when I was junior, concerned that I’d never have enough work or have the career my father did. It had been a welcome distraction, something that reminded me that building a career, a legacy, was a life’s work and not something that happened overnight. “I’ve not been for ages. I’d love to go.”
“You have time?”
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a junior now.”
She grinned. “Is he helping?”
I winced. “Jury’s out. I think we both need time to adjust. But I’m in the mood to carpe some of this diem with you.”
She grinned and blew me a kiss. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
It felt good to see her happy, even better that I’d been the cause. I couldn’t remember ever having this warm feeling in my stomach because I’d made Gabby happy. Perhaps because I never did.
I pulled on my coat, scarf, and gloves and headed out of chambers toward the Fields. A prolific architect, Sir John Soane designed and built his house as part home, part school, part showcase for his clients. It was stuffed full of interesting art and architecture.
I grinned despite the biting chill of the wind. Six months ago, the idea of going to a museum at lunchtime would have been ludicrous. The notion of having a girlfriend laughable. But here I was, heading toward Sir John Soane’s museum to meet Violet.
She came into view, leaning against the cast-iron railings, her nose buried in something she was reading. Her hair fanned out over the shoulders of her coat that was the same glossy black as the railings and contrasted with her pale skin, pinked by the cold. She had that timeless beauty that would have been just as revered in the eighteenth century when the house was newly built as it was now.
“I like your hat,” I said as I approached her, tugging at the pale pink beret she had on, which picked up the rosiness in her cheeks.
“Hi,” she replied, beaming at me. My breath caught. I was so lucky I got to spend my lunchtime with this woman.