9. Chapter Nine - Lexie
Lexie
"I've decided to stop the pity party," I tell Bailey proudly as I rush back into the store from my lunch break.
As I took a short stroll down the shore of the Thames, I couldn't help but realize that even though I've lived in London for a fair bit now, I've barely seen anything of it.
“You know, Derek wanted to spend our free time together, and while that was perfectly fine, of course, it didn't leave a lot of room for going out and experiencing the city.” Bailey shoots me a curious look and sets down the book he’d been holding in his hands. “I mean, he was more of a homebody, trying out restaurants was the only exception and arguably, that was still part of his job. Finding new recipes, checking out the competition, you know?” Bailey nods eagerly, but I can’t help but think he’s making fun of me.
“So, we spent most of my free time together. Except for when, you know, he was cheating on me.” Bailey bites his lip to refrain from bursting into laughter.
“But details, details. Anyway, I can't believe that the only thing I've seen of London is the exact same route I used to walk every morning.”
It dawned on me as I walked a part of that route on my way back here, surprised to see it in full daylight. I might have been living in London for half a year, but damn it, I haven’t even visited any tourist spots. When we decided to move here, I did all kinds of research for things I wanted to do, buildings and shows I wanted to see, events I wanted to experience.
All of those got lost. First in the stress of moving here, then in the dullness of everyday life, and finally in the breakup. It’s time to put a stop to that.
"Oh, thank God," Bailey says and shoots me a grin, but then his expression slowly slips into a neutral one. "Where does that change of mind come from?"
"You know, it's been two weeks since I confronted Derek like a rabid animal," I tell him with a deep sigh. "It’s time to put it behind me. I’ve put the physical distance between us, and it’s about time I kick him out of my mind as well."
"Atta girl," Bailey cheers and lifts his hand for a high five, which I give him. "I was going to give you one more week before staging an intervention. We can make it a ‘moving on’ instead. I’ve already sent out invitations."
I shake my head at him, then round the bakery counter to find my apron and put it on, noticing in the glass’s reflection that Bailey immediately pulls out his phone once I have my back to him.
Not making a sound, I turn around, watching him curiously as a smile tugs at his lips the moment he presumably opens his notifications.
"Now, what is it you're smiling at on your phone?" I raise my eyebrow at him, throwing his words right back at him.
"Nobody," he counters, shooting me an exaggeratedly innocent look.
"Fine, don't tell me.” I shrug my shoulders, pretending to be disinterested as I try to form the apron bands into some kind of knot behind my back. “Sucker," I mutter under my breath with an exaggerated eye roll and make myself a coffee.
The lunch rush is just about to start, and from my experience, tested over the span of one or two weeks, I've perfectly calculated the best time to drink my last coffee before it starts—without having to leave the counter to find our toilet in the middle of it.
"Make me one too, please," Bailey shouts, and I grab his mug from the counter. It's bright blue with little daisies printed on it, and I don't know what it is, but it encapsulates Bailey's personality perfectly. Simple and innocent, yet very lovely.
"So, Bailey, you're the native," I start as I bring over his coffee with cream and hazelnut syrup, just the way he likes it. "It's about time I experience London. Tell me, where should I go?"
"Oh, God. Honestly, I think you're asking the wrong person," he says with a chuckle and takes a big sip of his drink. "Oh, fuck, that burns."
"Coffee fresh from the machine is hot. Surprise," I say dryly and lean against his bookstore counter.
"Why are you the wrong person to ask?" I tilt my head curiously. He’s lived here all his life, shouldn’t he know the best spots to go?
"I tend to avoid the tourist spots as best as I can. How am I supposed to give any recommendations?"
“So you never went there, not even as a child?”
“That was twenty years ago, when I was maybe eight years old. Would you seriously count on that experience?” He rolls his eyes at me. “I’m sure a lot has changed since then.”
I blink at him once, then twice.
"I hate it when you're logical and right," I tell him, making him burst into a chuckle.
"I'm just honest," he says. "I mean, I could tell you to go to Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and the London Eye, but those aren't exactly the inside spots you're looking for, right?"
"Right," I point out. "Just think back, Bailey. Anything fun you've done here? Really channel those childhood memories. What should I do here that I can’t do in the US? Any fancy movie spots I need to visit?"
I take a sip of my own drink, but it’s still hot as fuck and I burn my tongue on it. Not that I’d admit that out loud.
"Come on, Bailey, think. Now that I don't know how long I’ll even get to stay in London, I need to make the best of it."
"Okay, let me think," Bailey says and scratches his chin, his eyes looking far above me into nothingness as he tilts his head. He almost looks like that thinker statue by Rodin, very philosophical and profound.
"Oh, I got one. There's a floating bookshop."
"A floating what now?" I raise my eyebrow at him, confused. I mean, how would that work?
"It's a bookshop on a boat," he explains, his eyes meeting mine again. "On the Regent's Canal. Lovely area, right behind King's Cross. Speaking of, I'm sure you know all the Harry Potter spots?”
"I know of them," I point out with an absentminded nod. "Not really a fantasy fan, so I never got into Harry Potter, but the research I did for spots here made me wish I was."
"Shame." He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Because if there are movie spots to be seen in London and it’s greater area, it's definitely Harry Potter."
“Not James Bond?” a familiar voice says from behind me, and I twirl around with a grin on my face. Immediately, my eyes land on Jackson, who’s just letting the door fall close behind him, swiping a stray curl behind his ear.
"Hi," I greet him with a big smile that makes his stern expression soften. It’s not too often I’d seen him smile yet. Well, a grimace that resembles one I see quite often, but a genuine smile? Those are rare for him.
"What are we talking about?" he asks, and from the corner of my eye, I see Bailey making kissy-faces.
"I need to do some sightseeing," I inform him and take out my phone to quickly open my notes app and jot down 'Floating Books’ and ‘James Bond.'
"I haven't seen the movies yet, but my dad used to be really into them,” I mutter as I type, leading to a collective gasp. “So yeah, maybe I should make sure to check out some of the movie locations."
"Do you have any other idea for sightseeing spots? Because Bailey here says since he’s a native, he can’t give any recommendations," I continue to explain. I shoot him a glare, then turn back around to Jackson. "Do you have any spots that you think I have to visit?"
"Honestly, no." He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Truth be told, I haven't really gotten around to sightseeing yet either.”
“You should do it together then," Bailey points out, and my gaze darts to him, eyes narrow and lips tight.
"What?" He raises his arms defensively. "Isn't that way more fun than walking around Buckingham Palace alone?"
"He's got a point," Jackson says with a chuckle.
"Also, it adds accountability," Bailey continues, but he’s losing me right there.
"Accountability?"
"Well, I know you. You're easy to talk yourself out of fun stuff. ‘Oh, I have to close up,’ or ‘But I’m kind of tired today.’ At least you pulled those cards the last times you evaded video calls from your friends in the States. But if you're planning with someone else, you might actually follow through."
"When did I ever—"
"Oh, please, don't start." Bailey rolls his eyes at me, and I cross my arms in front of my chest and raise my chin at him. "Here’s another example: You've been telling me ever since you started working here that you wanted to see the Jack the Ripper murder spots. And you haven't done that until today."
I grimace. He’s got me there.
"I hate to admit it, but you're right," I deflate and quickly pull up my phone again to add that to my newly created itinerary. "That's definitely going on top of the list."
"Jack the Ripper?" Jackson asks, amused, and I nod. "That's a choice.”
“I'm just curious," I point out with a grin. "And yes, I know it's not going to look the same as it did back then. And I also know I'm not going to solve the mystery of who Jack the Ripper was.” But I’ll be damned if I'm not delulu enough to think that I'll find some sort of evidence, even all these years later.
"Even if not, you'll have seen some cool parts of London," Bailey adds, and I look at him thoughtfully. “And just in case Jack the Ripper’s ghost thinks you get too close to the truth, you have a strong man to protect you.”
"Well, the London Eye is on my list," Jackson quickly changes the topic, right as I try think of the best way to step into Jack the Ripper’s shoes to get revenge for that comment. "My brother said it's a must-see."
"Oh, did he?" Bailey asks and raises an eyebrow. "Or does he just want you to throw your money out the window?"
"Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him." Jackson grins.
The two of them continue to banter, but all of my focus is on Jackson.
He looks great. But I knew that before. No, there is something different about him. Nothing I could pinpoint, but he seems more… free. I can tell there's been a shift. While I finally realized that Derek was weighing me down in some ways, it seems a similar weight has fallen off Jackson’s shoulders.
And it suits him. Really fucking suits him.
"Okay, I’m adding London Eye to the list," I finally say and jot it down right in second place.
"What else?” Jackson wonders. “My sister said I'm supposed to check out the Bridgerton house, wherever or whatever that is. And I've been wanting to use one of those water taxis over the Thames,” he adds, and my eyes quickly dart from my phone screen to him.
“To go where?"
He shrugs and gives us a sheepish grin. "I don't care. I just want to ride one of them."
"I'm not sure if that sounds fun or scary," I admit, but add it to the list nonetheless, ignoring Bailey, who’s gnawing on his lip to keep from grinning. Oh, he’s way too happy about this turn of events.
He keeps suggesting dating spots to add to our list and I keep shutting them down until I hear customers come in and quickly slide my phone into my apron.
"Sorry, guys, I’ve got to get back to work," I excuse myself but stop halfway through the counter. "Jackson, did you want anything?"
"No, I'm good," he says and puts on his cap, pulling the shade deep into his face. "Just wanted to come over and say hi."
"Okay?" I say, but it sounds more like a question than an acknowledgement. But I don’t have a clue what else to answer. That's oddly sweet.
"Alright," he says and suddenly has a sheepish expression. "But now that I’m here, do you have a box of pastries left? Like 50?"
"That's definitely more than one box," I tell him up front and internally count the pastries still here in the display, then mentally the sheets we still have in the back. "I’ll have to count, I'm not completely sure we have that many left."
"If not, don't worry," he quickly adds. "It's just the two-week anniversary of our asshole director getting fired, and I felt like celebrating." Then he turns completely red. “And I might have sang your praises a bit too loudly so everyone’s really eager to try out pastries from here.”
"No pressure at all,” I say with a wink, noting how Bailey makes a swooning face behind Jackson, and I know I’ll never hear the end of it. “Give me a second."
I quickly hand out the customers' orders first. They are regulars, and I've already prepared their lunches before I went on my short break.
So I quickly hand them over, then hurry to the back to see how much we have and get to packing them all together for Jackson.