Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
I needed to unthaw before I investigated, though. And this was nice.
Giles and I spent twenty minutes or so talking about San Francisco. Apparently, his sister and her husband lived in the Sunset District and he’d fallen in love with the city when he’d visited them last year.
“The parking is better in that area than downtown. That’s for sure,” I commented.
“And the transit system is good. I was able to explore the nightlife in the Castro, and I quite enjoyed it. Do you know, I’m thirty-two and I’d never been to a gay bar till last year.”
His lilting tone made the statement sound like a question. I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I smiled.
“Never too late.”
Giles chuckled. “The city was quite illuminating. And it’s such a pretty place, with rolling hills and ocean views…gritty yet grand in its own way. I need a change of scenery and frankly, I like the idea of a slice of anonymity that comes with being in a city…even a small one.”
“It can be lonely,” I replied, unthinking.
It was true, but I wasn’t sure why I’d said it. I wasn’t warning him away. It was more of a case of unconscious word vomit, aka the desperate need to unravel my thoughts and confide in someone, anyone.
Maybe that was why I’d connected so much to Scott. We had nothing but that flight in common and the fact that we were both a little…lost. I was looking for a new direction, convincing myself I’d made the right choice by changing careers, while Scott was looking for—actually, I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I sensed his unrest and I empathized.
Or maybe I’d unwittingly taken advantage of his kindness in a moment of airplane stress and turned it into something more than it was. All the more reason to get him out of my system posthaste.
I turned to Giles with an apology on the tip of my tongue, but something in his expression stopped me.
“One can be lonely in a crowded room. I’m lonely here sometimes, and this is home.” He sipped his tea thoughtfully, then set it down, his fingers still curled possessively around the white cup. “I may be wrong, but I think we control our own happiness. San Francisco isn’t a metaphor for escape for me. It’s just a place I want to immerse myself in while I’m free to do so. I don’t want to look back and regret things I hadn’t done or tried.”
Yes. That was so very much exactly what I felt, but with a little more angst and ennui. Normally, that was the sort of segue that would have encouraged me to kick up my feet and settle in for an hour-long discussion about bucket lists and philosophical ponderings of life, but I suddenly felt restless.
“I noticed there are a lot of bakeries and bookshops here. Do you think they do well?”
Giles cocked his head, possibly confused by my abrupt topic change. “They must do all right. Especially with tourists. And on Saturdays, it’s more crowded in town than usual. Let’s have a walkabout, shall we?”
“Sure.”
The streets were congested from the abbey to New Bond Street, but they were positively packed on Milsom. I scanned the wide cobblestone street, admiring the well-preserved Georgian architecture and colorful shop windows.
As we meandered through the crowd, Giles resumed his duties as a tour guide, pointing out the grand stone edifices.
“This section was built in 1762, and these buildings were townhouses. Most are now used as shops and…”
I listened with half an ear, taking in my surroundings like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to pop inside bookshops and peruse stores laden with British goodies to buy things I didn’t need, like Union Jack tea cups. I wanted to read the plaques affixed to every other building, listing all the famous people who’d lived here or walked these very streets hundreds of years ago. Like Jane Austen.
I made a mental note to reread her books ASAP when a mint-and-white awning caught my eye. I moved instinctively toward it with Giles close behind, stopping short to peer into the window at the glass shelves filled with delicious-looking baked goods under elegant glass domes. Lemon scones, fruit tarts, and elegant cakes topped with fancy chocolate designs…
This was it.
Scott’s Bakery.
My heart beat double time as I peeked into the window, hoping he’d walk out from behind the counter and—
What? Kiss me in the middle of his shop in front of his customers and employees like some romantic hero in the closing scene of a rom-com? Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. But I was here now and I could hardly contain my curiosity.
I tapped the glass and turned to Giles. “I’m going inside. Be right back.”
He marched to the entrance and held the door open for me. “I’ll come too. Those macarons look lovely.”