Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to work out what I’m really trying to say.
“I find it hard to trust people,” I confess. “I was with my ex since before I was famous. We were together since high school and I found out he was selling stories about me.”
“Wow,” he says. “For the money?”
“Honestly, he never told me why, and I didn’t stick around to grill him, but I don’t think it was for the money. It’s not like he was short of…anything.”
I hadn’t thought too much about the why. I’d been too busy recovering from the what. I don’t say any more, and it’s like Beau knows I’ve reached my limit of confessions, because he doesn’t ask me anything else.
“My mum always says everything seems better with a full stomach. Let’s eat.”
“Your mom? Are you close?”
“Yes, and I’ve learned that ignoring her comes at a price. She’s smart and wise and I make a point to follow her advice wherever I can.”
I’m not sure many men would be so comfortable admitting as much, but the more I talk to Beau, the more I’m persuaded that he’s not like many men.
He unzips his backpack and pulls out packaged Pret A Manger sandwiches. “I couldn’t arrange dinner in here without a ton of people being involved. I thought you’d cope with Pret sandwiches rather than that.”
I laugh. “You’re absolutely right.” He’s so thoughtful and has really considered me in all of this. It’s not until witnessing it that I realize how it wasn’t like that with Matt. We always had dates at fancy restaurants because that’s what he liked.
I smile and glance down at the bench picnic he set up. There’s a positive array of sandwiches.
“We have a selection because I didn’t know which you’d like. Everything from falafel to good old chicken and avocado.”
“Looks great,” I say, and I mean it. Yes, I’m used to getting dressed up and going out to fancy restaurants. Matt really enjoyed the latest and greatest New York eateries. But right here, nestled in between the Impressionists, sitting opposite a man with eyes that light up a room, and who might be the best listener I’ve ever met, I’m having the best non-date of my life.
NINE
Beau
We’d not even kissed, but Vivian was my first thought when I woke up this morning. My second thought was she shouldn’t have a fake boyfriend unless it was me. I could absolutely guarantee that I wouldn’t betray her. She might not be so lucky with a stranger.
I’d texted her a couple of minutes ago to let her know I was close, and she said she was already in the queue at Coffee Confidential. We’d agreed to meet twenty minutes earlier than usual to give us more time in the park.
I push the door open and see her already standing at the pickup station. She waves, beckoning me over.
“I already ordered yours,” she whispers.
A slow grin unfurls on my face. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Least I can do after our non-date on Saturday. I had a really good time.”
“Me too,” I reply, taking in her blue sparkling eyes that seem to be brighter than usual this morning.
After she told me a number of times that she wasn’t ready to date, we weren’t dating, and our evening constituted a non-date, I hadn’t asked to kiss her. But it didn’t stop me wanting to. Even after what had happened with Coral, something about Vivian drew me to her, over and over, even though we were so different and on such different paths. Maybe the built-in end date for anything between us—since she’ll eventually return to the US—makes it easier to think about here and now, with her, and nothing else.
“Adele,” someone behind the counter calls out, sliding two cups onto the counter.
“I just got why you call yourself Adele.”
She glances at me as we turn and head to the exit.
“Because of the singer, right? You’re trying to be funny.”
“What do you mean, trying to be funny? I’m downright hilarious.”
I chuckle. “If you say so,” I say, holding the door for her.
All of a sudden, she freezes as someone walks by and does a double-take when he sees Vivian. They don’t stop and Vivian charges ahead in the other direction. I follow her but glance back at the guy who seemed to recognize her.
I catch up to her at the crossing.
“Is he following us?” she whispers.
“Not at all. He’s long gone. He probably just thought you were his ex or something.”
“Or he was paparazzi.”
“Do they get up this early?”
“Believe me, they’ll do anything to get a shot they want.” There’s a tinge of bitterness to her tone that I haven’t heard before.
“And does it matter if he photographs you?”
“Usually I would just accept it. It’s only, no one knows I’m in London. I’d prefer to keep it that way for now.”