Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 126154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“We’ll talk later,” I mouth and she nods.
I stir the fucking soup with a hard on until it’s time to fucking go.
Melissa
He’s good on the streets.
He doesn’t say much, but he’s genuine.
There isn’t a hint of snobbery as he hands out hot meals. There isn’t any smug self-satisfaction in the way he works so hard.
I feel humbled.
I feel a fraud.
But I’m not a fraud, not entirely. I really do like it here.
I love the way the people are so kind. I love the way the people on the streets communicate from the heart, without any stupid sense of importance. I love the way it feels to help people and have them appreciate it, genuinely appreciate it.
It’s late by the time we wipe down the counters back at the kitchen, stacking up all the trays ready for next week.
I get ready to leave with no assumptions, ready to make a sharp exit if Alexander seems uncomfortable.
He takes my arm as we get outside, angling me in a different direction to the others as we all say our goodbyes.
I wait until they’re out of earshot before I speak, and I can’t help myself, the apologies come tumbling out of my mouth before I’ve even properly said hello.
“I’m so sorry! I had no idea! Frank said come, because of Wednesday… and I wouldn’t have thought…”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m sorry. My work makes me suspicious. It was unexpected, it’s as simple as that.”
“I won’t come back,” I say. “I’ll tell Frank I can’t make it…”
His eyes are piercing. “Why would you do that?”
I shrug, and I feel like shit for doing this. The whole thing feels like a bad idea going horribly wrong.
It probably is.
I can practically hear Dean’s warning blaring in my head.
“Because of you… because I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable…”
“You think I’m uncomfortable?”
My eyes meet his, and I hate how they feel watery. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” he says. I’m sure I don’t look convinced and he sighs. “Amy, it was a shock. I’m allowed to be shocked, aren’t I? You must be shocked too. This is… unusual.”
“London’s a small place,” I lie.
“So it appears.” He takes his hands from his jacket pockets and sighs again. “Please let’s just start over.” He takes my hand and places something in my palm, and I know what it is straight away.
“You really carry it?” I say as I hold the stone up to the streetlight.
“It’s lucky,” he says.
I smile. “How do you know that?”
“Because you told me.”
I wish his cap didn’t hide so much of his face.
“I guess there must be something in all this hocus pocus,” he adds, “because it brought you here.”
“And that’s lucky?”
His smile tickles my tummy. “I like to think so.”
I hand him back the quartz and reach in my jeans pocket for the fire opal. I can’t believe I’m doing this as I present it in my palm.
“It’s lucky,” I tell him. “It brought me here.”
We stare at each other for an age. I don’t move, and neither does he, trapped in no man’s land on this grubby street corner with nobody else around.
“I should get going,” I bluff, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes,” he says. “You will.”
I’ve only taken two steps towards the underground before he calls me, and his voice gives me tingles all over.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” he asks as I turn around.
I shake my head. Another lie.
He looks as though he’s struggling. Looks like a sailor lost at sea.
I wait.
Give him space.
It works, just as I know it will.
“My gemstone collection,” he says. “I could show you, if you like.”
“Now?” I ask, and my heart races. I feel it right through me.
“If you have time.”
I smile, and I go to him. I link my arm through his, and rest my cheek against the scratchy denim of his shoulder and he doesn’t pull away. I love how he doesn’t pull away.
“All the time in the world,” I say.
Chapter Thirty
Alexander
As I stand with Amy’s arm through mine on that street corner, I’m not just waiting for the cab I just ordered, I’m waiting for my common sense to come piling back in to tell me this is a fucking stupid idea.
She doesn’t even ask where we’re headed as the taxi arrives, just piles herself into the backseat and shuffles along to make room for me. She doesn’t even move fully to the other side – her body stays pressed to my side, her thigh tight against mine as she buckles herself in.
It’s a comfortable silence. Strangely comfortable.
Resting my hand on her knee feels like the most natural thing in the world, even though it shouldn’t be.
I’ve no idea why I feel like I’ve known her my whole fucking life, but I like it. I like it too fucking much to stop.
I pay the driver as we arrive outside mine, and if she’s shocked by the grandeur of the place she doesn’t show it.