“You’re very good with children,” he told me.
I smelled Imogen’s head once more. “I told you I was.”
“It’s one thing to hear it and quite another to see it.”
I looked up at him. “Have you ever thought of having children?” I asked him.
“Loads of times.”
“And what was the verdict?” I asked.
“I’d love a few of them running ’round, yeah. They’re great.”
“Agreed,” I told him. “Here,” I said, gesturing for Oliver to take Imogen. “I’ve got to pee like a racehorse.”
“The loo’s just around that corner,” he told me, pointing through the kitchen into a den area and beyond to a short hall.
I rode my scooter with confidence since there was no other way to make the thing look cool. I rounded the bend down the hall and found the door to the restroom where I did my business and washed my hands. When I came back out, Sophia was waiting for me.
“I’ve been told to come fetch you for dinner,” she said with a gigantic purple smile.
“Was the candy good?” I asked her.
“It’s been lovely!” she told me, clasping her hands.
I giggled at how wonderful I thought she was. “How old are you, Sophia?”
“Ten.”
“Oh, that’s a great age,” I told her as I rolled back toward the kitchen.
“I think it’s just terrible!” she whined. “I can’t do anything I want to do. My parents think I’m a baby.”
“Oh, surely not,” I soothed her. “They’re only looking out for you. Besides, ten is great in other ways.”
“How so?”
“Well, first of all, people bring you bags of candy,” I told her, gesturing toward myself with a thumb.
Sophia laughed. “That is fun,” she conceded.
“The toys are fantastic too,” I added.
“True,” she agreed.
“Plus, and trust me on this, your friends are never as fun as when you’re ten years old. Every time is a grand time!”
Sophia looked at me with fresh eyes. “I do have loads of fun with my friends.”
“See? The world’s your oyster, Sophia,” I told her when we reached the kitchen.
“Here,” Oliver said, standing and helping me to my chair.
“Thank you,” I told him.
Eleanor watched us with keen eyes and I felt acutely aware of myself. I tried to see us as she saw us and guessed as to what she probably alleged. Her son had brought a girl home. The first since his wife had died. My heart plummeted to my feet as Oli scooted my chair in for me. I looked up at him, into his deep green eyes, memorizing his dark hair and gorgeous smile. My stomach flipped over and over. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t let me be.
During dinner, we discussed the weather and what our plans were for the next day. Oliver told everyone he’d planned on taking me into the village for a few hours to show me around, and inquired that afterward maybe we could all meet up for dinner.
“So where exactly are you from?” Eleanor asked when we were finished eating.
“I’m from Dallas, Texas.”
“Dallas! Oh, I do love that show,” she said. “They just don’t make them like that anymore.”
I giggled to myself. “They really don’t,” I told her.
“Weren’t you in Dallas for a few weeks?” Zoe asked Oliver. “Oh! Is that where you and Oliver became acquainted?” Zoe asked me without waiting for his answer.
“It is,” Oliver confirmed for me and set down his fork.
He looked over and smiled. “I’d actually pointed her out to Graham,” he said to everyone. I thought he’d be done there, but he continued. “I remember it vividly. I pointed her out to him and said, ‘That has got to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.’”
My heart hammered in my chest. “You didn’t,” I whispered.
The table got really quiet, including the baby, who must have read something in the atmosphere. She watched us intently. “I did, and Graham said he’d noticed you too and asked if he could have dibs.”
“What’d you do that for?” George asked.
“It was Graham,” Oliver explained.
Eleanor scoffed. “I’ve never liked him,” she said. Then, realizing what she’d said, turned to me. “I’m sorry,” she stammered.
I laughed and patted her hand. “No worries. I don’t like him at all either, so we’re on the same page there.”
She relaxed. “He’s just not a good boy,” she told me. “I’ve never liked how he treats Oliver. He takes advantage.”
Oliver sighed but didn’t defend Graham or himself.
“What happened between you and Graham?” Sophia asked.
“Soph!” Zoe exclaimed.
“It’s okay. He went out with another girl,” I told Sophia, sticking to the kid-safe version of that explanation.
“He cheated!” Sophia shouted. “That is so wrong!” she exclaimed with ten-year-old vehemence. It made me smile.
“What a prat,” Archie said into his plate.
“Archie!” Zoe yelled. “Arthur, these children!”
Arthur laughed. “Nothing to do with me.”
So wrong, I mouthed to Sophia.
She folded her arms and pursed her lips then shook her head in disappointment. She looked straight at her uncle. “You don’t need friends like that,” she told him.
My hand went to my mouth to keep from laughing.
“Sophia,” he pleaded, “this is just how men are. We don’t kill friendships even when those friends act like idiots.”
“Wrong,” Sophia said, waving her little finger. “That’s wrong, Uncle Oli. Wrong.”
George was red in the face, keeping himself from laughing. So was Eleanor.
“Sophia,” Oli said, a fit of laughter bubbling up from his throat. “You shouldn’t talk to me that way.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophia apologized, realizing it might have been a little disrespectful, “but I think you should let go of that friend of yours.”
“I’ll think about it,” Oli lied to appease her.
He looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders. “From the mouths of babes.”
That night I’d had trouble sleeping, and it wasn’t because I was in an unfamiliar house. I was always one of those who could adjust easily to a new surrounding. No, it was what Oliver had said at dinner. That has got to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. His declaration had skipped over my skin with a shudder and continued to dance for hours.
The next day, Oliver took me into Bray Village. I had trouble looking him in the eye. He was too good looking for me not to be affected by him. I didn’t want to be any more confused than I had to be.
“There are only four three-Michelin-star restaurants in the United Kingdom, and two of them are here in this village.”
“Shut the front door! That’s so fancy!”
He snorted. “You slay me, Pen.” He mocked my accent. “That’s so fancee!”
I laughed. “Stop. It’s hard living among the English accent with a Texas one, no matter how mild it is.”
“Why? It fits you so well, Pen. I love to hear you talk.”
Another pang of satisfying shivers swam through my body at his admission. I attached my phone to his car jack and searched for a song, something loud, something distracting. I scrolled through until I hit Imogen Heap’s “Between Sheets” and hit play, but it didn’t help. The melody was too heady and filled the car with an angst I wasn’t yet ready to face.
We both reached the volume knob at the same time and our hands accidentally touched. His fingers on mine sent my thoughts and blood racing. My stomach rose to my head then fell back down in quick succession over and over, like a roller coaster without the bar fastened. It was thrilling, unbelievably thrilling. A thrill I’d never once experienced with Graham or anyone else.
I whipped my hand back.
“Sorry,” he whispered, avoiding eye contact and staring straight ah
ead.
The car was quiet save for the building music. The crescendo of the song matched my steadily climbing heart rate.
I turned my head slowly toward Oliver. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye every few seconds, and each time I would turn quickly back toward the windshield. A sort of cat-and-mouse game that made me tingle all over.
Oliver’s left hand went to the thigh of his jeans and I watched the movement closely. He wiped the palm of his hand down to his knee then brought his elbow to rest on the center console, letting his hand fall as close to me as possible without actually touching.
I swallowed. The proximity of his hand sent my head spinning. My own good hand gripped the armrest, my knuckles white with the pressure of my grasp. I kept ordering myself to relax, to calm down, but no matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t happening. My hand itched to touch his. I lifted it and made a small movement toward him, then I came to my senses and let it drop in my lap. Restless, I brought it to my hair and began to twist a strand around a finger over and over.
I felt Oliver’s eyes on me, heavy. Heavier than I’d ever felt a stare, too physical, too visceral. I entertained myself, or if I was being truthful, diverted my attention from Oliver, by going over how awful an idea it would be to act on anything with him. He was Graham’s best friend. Did I want to be the kind of girl who did something like that? Did I want to be that girl? Was I over Graham enough to give Oliver a fair chance? Did I like Oliver? Respect Oliver? Could I fall in love with Oliver?
My throat dry, I swallowed once more, and glimpsed at him.
Yes, my brain automatically replied.
No, you don’t, Penelope. You don’t. Stop, Penelope. Stop.
It was all moving so fast, too fast. I brought the side of my thumb to my mouth and chewed at the nail, something my mama never let me do. Remembering her, I let my hand fall back down.
“Something wrong?” Oliver asked from his side of the car.
I jumped slightly and laughed, sounding a little insane. “Uh, yeah? Why?” I asked, my eyes wide. Oh my God, he knows. He can tell!
“You seem a little jumpy.”
“Jumpy?” I asked, trying to keep my body as still as possible. “No, no. Not jumpy.”
His brows pinched together and he fought a smile. “Why are you sitting like a statue now, then?” he asked.
We parked and he turned off the car. It fell silent. His hand rested on the door handle, but he wasn’t getting out, he was staring at me.
My hand went to my face. “I’m an idiot is all. Carry on,” I told him.
He got out and retrieved my scooter for me then met me on my side of the car.
“Your chariot awaits,” he said, grabbing my hand.
Why do you have to be so charming?
He helped me onto the raised sidewalks and we strolled from shop to shop, always close enough to touch, but not actually touching, save for the occasional and accidental bump into one another. I found myself longing for those as the day progressed, and it was starting to scare me.
We’d made plans to meet up with his family at one of the local pubs for dinner and had an hour to kill. I’d expressed an interest in visiting an antiques shop because I’d grown fascinated by English teacups and had started collecting them since I’d first come over. Oliver found a gorgeous shop near the pub and we looked around. I eyed a blue flowery set with a petal saucer and stemmed cup. I hemmed and hawed over buying it in my mind, but ultimately decided it was just a little out of my price range, so I set it down and moved on to the next.
Oliver had gone off on his own, and I found myself loathing the distance. Come on, Penny. Calm the hell down! This is Oliver. Oliver. Oliver, sleep-with-anything-that-moves Oliver.
The memories of all the girls I’d seen him go home with poured a bucket of ice water over me like nothing else could. When Oliver found me again, I felt more like myself again. I smiled at him.
“Ready for dinner?” he asked when we met up.
“Ready,” I told him.
He lifted a bag in front of me. “For you,” he said.
“You bought me something?”
I took the bag. Inside was a small box. I stuck my hand in and peeled up the lid.
“You so obviously wanted it. I couldn’t let you walk out of here without it,” he told me.
It was the little teacup I’d admired when I thought he wasn’t looking.
Uh-oh.
We met up with Oliver’s family at the local pub and since we were fashionably late, most of them had already arrived. All, actually, except for Arthur.
“He’s at the office,” Zoe explained, buckling Imogen into her high chair.
Oliver pulled my chair out for me and I sat. “What does he do?” I asked.
“He’s a barrister in London,” Oliver explained.
“He should be here soon, though,” Eleanor said. “So,” she said, eyeing my bag. “What fabulous thing have you purchased in our little village?”
“Oh,” I said, bringing up the bag and taking out Oli’s gift. “Oliver bought it for me. I collect them.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Eleanor exclaimed. She picked up the cup and examined it from all sides. “Just gorgeous, darling. Good on you, Oliver. A very sweet gift,” she told her son.
Oliver beamed with pride at his mom and my stomach flip-flopped again.
Everyone at the table took turns gushing over Oliver’s gift, and I found myself delighted by his reaction to all their praises. He reminded me of a little boy who’d won a soccer tournament or something. I could see myself becoming infatuated with him, could feel it. The anxiety that gave me was palpable.
Dinner was wonderful, certainly nothing like the pub meals I was used to. It felt more like a restaurant experience than a pub experience. The boys retreated to the bar and had a few pints while the ladies talked. I played with Imogen and Sophia. Archie stuck by his dad’s side, playing some kind of game on his phone.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Eleanor began, “how do you like London?”
I ran my fingers over the soft skin of Imogen’s hand. “It’s been amazing,” I told them, which wasn’t a lie. I added a caveat. “Everything but what’s happened with Graham and me, that is.” I laughed to break any tension I might have caused.
“Yes,” Zoe agreed sweetly, patting my hand. “I’m sorry he did that to you, love.”
Eleanor nodded her head then asked, “Penelope, dear, do you think you will stay in London?”
A sardonic brow raised on Zoe’s face. “Mum, what are you playing at?”
“Nothing,” Eleanor sang innocently. “I was just wondering if London could be a place she’d ever consider calling home, is all.”
“I’m not sure,” I told her honestly. “As cliché as it sounds, home is wherever my heart is. If my heart was in London, there would be my home.”
Eleanor’s face grew a little smug smile as she stared down the tip of her nose at her daughter, who only rolled her eyes at her. Had I really just said that? Both Zoe and Eleanor were staring at me prospectively.
“When I’m older, I’m to move to London,” Sophia chimed in, brushing the hair of one of her Barbies. I was grateful to her. She took the heat off.
“Oh, are you?” Zoe asked.
I signaled for Zoe to place Imogen in my lap and she did so. I kissed her baby cheek.
“Yes,” Sophia confirmed, “I’ll have a smashing time bumping around the city. I’ll go to all the fancy restaurants and see all the shows.”
“And the ballet,” I added.
“Oh yes! The ballet, of course.”
“You could live with Uncle Oliver,” I told her.
“Oh no, no, no,” she cooed. She set her tiny brush down on the table and started to braid her doll’s hair. “I’ll have a great big flat so my friends and I could have sleepovers.”
“Naturally,” I agreed with a nod.
My phone buzzed, indicating an email. “Excuse me, ladies,” I told the women and glided
on my scooter toward the entrance of the pub. I rolled outside and stood in the sun. I’d gotten a little chilly inside and used the excuse of checking my phone to come out into warmer air.
I unlocked it and checked my latest email.
From: Kaley Skarsgard
Subject: Advertising Opportunities
Date: March 18, 2016 11:03:50 AM EDT
To: Penelope Beckett
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Miss Beckett,
I represent FACE Cosmetics in New York. We ran across your blog and were wondering if you’d be open to us advertising with you? We thought a few beginning vlog ads as well as dynamic ads on the blog itself. We were also wondering if you’d be interested in pulling together a vlog using our brand that has viral potential.
Please get back to me at your earliest convenience if you are interested.
Thanks so much,
Kaley Skarsgard
Advertising Executive for FACE Cosmetics
Holy. Cannoli. FACE Cosmetics was only the fastest rising makeup company in the United States. Was I interested? Hmm, let me think. Yes, I was interested!
I did a little shimmy as best I could in my casts and turned my scooter around just in time to run into Oliver.
“Oli! Oli!” I practically screamed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing! Oh my God, it’s so amazing. I just got an email from FACE Cosmetics in New York and they want to advertise with me! Can you believe it?”
Oliver’s face split into the biggest grin. “Yes, Pen, I can believe it. Such fantastic news!” he said, kissing my cheek. I found myself leaning forward as he dragged himself away and wishing he’d kept his lips on my skin for just a moment longer. “Come on, let’s share it with everyone. Have a bit of a party since we’re already here.”
Feeling a bit drugged in the moment because Oliver kept his hand on my lower back, we made our way to his family’s table. We spread my potential good news amongst ourselves and ordered celebratory pints for the adults and ice cream for the kids.
Eventually the pub started to fill in with a night crowd and Zoe and Arthur took their three sleepy kids home. George and Eleanor, Oli and I, moved to a booth and chatted for an hour before they too grew tired and left us to our own devices.
Penny in London Page 9
