Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
I held up my umbrella. “Take this.”
“No, no. That’s okay. You need it and—”
“I have a few and I don’t mind getting a little wet.” I thrust the umbrella at him and offered him my hand, adding, “It was nice to finally meet you in person.”
Chance’s smile wobbled slightly. He opened his mouth and closed it as if he wanted to say something more.
He didn’t. He shook my hand, unfurling the umbrella as he stepped aside. “You too. Thank you for…dinner. And the umbrella.”
“You’re welcome.”
I held my breath when he waved and turned away, then waited till the shadows swallowed him whole before pulling out my cell.
Maxine answered on the first ring. “Tell me all about it!”
The sounds of raucous laughter and the hum of conversation drifted from her end of the line. “Where are you?”
“You don’t want to know, mate,” she drawled in her thick Cockney brogue. “But I’ll tell you anyway. Angie kidnapped me for karaoke. It’s bloody awful. But the drinks are a’right. Are you ringing from the loo, or are you on your way to his hotel? Don’t tell me he’s sittin’ right there. Come on, you have better manners than that, don’t ya?”
I snickered, feeling better than I had all evening. Maxine had that effect on people.
I’d met her at a Covent Garden pub shortly after my marriage blew up. I blearily remembered making a pass at her and getting a not-so-subtle brush-off. Because my luck was running strong, I naturally ran into her again a couple of nights later at a different pub. This time with her boyfriend. Yeah…ouch.
Long story short…I apologized, Maxine flashed her best toothy grin and accepted, then introduced me to her artist boyfriend, Tod, and their very loud and gregarious friends. It wasn’t an exaggeration to claim they’d adopted me. What started with occasional meet-ups at the pub or the local beer garden they all loved morphed into invitations to parties and picnics in the park. Suddenly, I had friends.
And they were interesting people too. Maxine was a former model turned photographer, Tod was a sculptor, Angie owned a dog training business, Becca was the chief pie maker for our friend Scott’s bakery. Most of them met at university, but I couldn’t keep track of the stories. I was just grateful to be part of their ridiculous group now.
Pre-heartbreak me wouldn’t have put up with all this goodwill bullshit. My high-stress job came with a high tolerance for pain. Yet at my lowest point, I knew that being alone wasn’t healthy for me. I hadn’t wanted to pack my suitcase and head home with my tail between my legs either, so I accepted their invitations. Three years later, I happily admitted I’d made the right choice. I was closer to some of these goofballs than I was to my university buddies.
“No, the date’s over. Chance went back to his hotel,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair before braving the elements, which were more of a persistent drizzle than a true rain.
“Oh, that’s not a good sign. Do you need a hug, love? Oh! You know what you really need?”
“I’m not going to a karaoke bar, Maxi,” I deadpanned.
She chortled merrily. “Fine, meet Tod, Becs, and Scott at the Anchor. I’ll drag Ang outta here soon. Ta-ra!”
The skies open up ten minutes into my fifteen-minute walk to Covent Garden. I was too committed to getting a cab at that point, and dodging tourists with umbrellas kept me from overthinking my dinner with Chance. I mean…there was nothing to think about. It was a gamble that hadn’t paid off, and that was life. Win some, lose some.
I couldn’t help thinking I was missing something, though. Maybe it was me. Maybe I hadn’t asked the right questions. Or maybe I’d assumed I knew him and hadn’t given him a chance. Maybe we should try again. We could meet for coffee or…something.
Nah, bad idea. Let it go.
I made a beeline for shelter under the eaves outside of The Anchor, shaking excess moisture from my hair like a wet dog as I reached for the door handle. I paused at the whoop of cheering and applause and glanced at the neon sign above the adjacent pub lit with the dreaded word…karaoke. Oh, boy. I’d bet ten quid Maxine and Angie were in the midst of a hokey duet, bumbling the lyrics as they misread the words prompted by the bouncing ball on the monitor.
Uh, hard pass.
I ordered a beer and joined Tod, Scott, and Becca at a high table with a sweet view of the football match on the flat-screen above the bar. They greeted me warmly, commiserated with me about my blah date, and moved on to more interesting topics like the game, the storefront Scott wanted to lease in Oxford, and Tod’s progress on the piece a wealthy American heiress had commissioned him to do earlier this year.