Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
My heart stops. What if his appointment is with the owner of the building? What then? Think, Matty.
I sip on my tea. “Oh yeah?” I ask casually. “Tell me about your day.”
Florian smiles easily, like there’s no trouble at all on the horizon. No tempests. No teapot. I consider him, my fingers wrapped around my mug, and I hold my breath. “I need to head out of London. First to Greenwich,” he says.
My shoulders ease slightly. Thank God. Not Brighton. “What’s in Greenwich?”
“My brother, right now, at my parents’. And obviously my parents too. But they live in different homes. Gabe’s flat is actually not too far from mine.”
I blink. Florian obviously must have a family.
He wasn’t hatched, at least not as far as I know.
He definitely looks more human than avian, and he doesn’t seem to be some kind of shifter as far as I can tell.
But it’s hard to imagine him with other people or the idea that Florian once was a kid, growing up.
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“I do,” Florian confirms. His expression is suddenly hard to read, like the corporate veneer has slid over his face like when we first met. “My twin. Gabriel.”
“Hey, I have twin little sisters back home. That’s amazing you’re a twin too.
” I brighten, despite myself. I always feel happier when I think about the girls.
At Florian’s now curious look, I continue.
“The twins are ten, Maggie and Jess. And Leila, who’s fourteen.
The hard part about being away in Brighton and London is missing seeing them grow up.
But they just have to say the word, and I’m there, back in Glynde, for them. ”
Florian smiles, his expression easing back into more of the Florian I’ve come to know. “Would this be by Glyndebourne Opera House? And twins are great.”
“Yeah, twins are cool. As for the opera house, it draws people in from all over, especially in the summer. Which is great business for our pub. We also offer picnic kits for people to take to the opera too. They always sell out.”
“You must have seen so many operas,” Florian marvels.
“Actually, none,” I confess. “I was either working to help my parents out at the pub, or my parents were working and too busy to go. There’s never a night off when you own a pub. Plus hotel. I was either helping with the pub or the girls.”
“And I thought I worked a lot,” Florian says wryly. “You must go see the opera, Matty. It’s stunning.”
“I have been to the ballet at the Royal Opera House in London,” I offer.
“I actually have a friend I grew up with from the village who made it into the corps de ballet after going to the ballet school, Michael. His family’s still back in the village, running a bookshop, so he comes home too, and we catch up then.
We actually dated a little at one point, but our lives took us to different places.
Anyway, all this to say I’ve at least seen dance, if not opera.
Even though the opera’s down the street from my parents’ home. ”
“Well, that’s something that you’ve made it to the ROH,” he chuckles. “I can’t imagine what it’s like having little sisters, but they’re lucky to have you as their older brother to watch out for them.”
“It goes both ways. I learn a lot from them too. I’m biased, but I think they’re pretty great.” I smile, and then I feel bittersweet as I think about the Rose. I refocus on Florian again. “Do you see Gabriel often?”
A shadow falls over his expression. I can see him trying to choose his words carefully. “It’s complicated,” he says at last. “But I love him. He’s my brother, after all. He’s had some… challenges, shall we say.”
“Right.” I peer at Florian, wondering if I should ask or how much. It’s a little unusual that he would go see his brother first thing on a weekday morning, but I don’t want to pry. “And you’re seeing him today?”
“Yes. I need to pick him up to take him to the doctor.” Florian checks his watch, all business again. “Speaking of which, can I give you a lift to the tube?”
“If it’s not a bother…”
“Not at all.”
It doesn’t feel like the right time to ask about what I saw on the computer downstairs.
I’m not sure when, exactly, is the right time for bringing it up that I happened to be snooping around.
But the snooping seems less important than the fact that he’s looking at a property listing to redevelop the Rose.
Which would mean disaster for so many of my friends who show work there and have studio space.
Like Noah. Studio space is hard to come by, and it’s not cheap.
I finish my toast and tea. We clear the table and soon head out to Florian’s Mercedes.
“I really could walk to the station.” I glance over at him. He looks like summer personified in his linen suit, sunglasses on. He opens the sunroof.
Florian shakes his head. “Least I can do.”
The morning traffic is out in force. Classical music plays faintly in the car.
I give him a sidelong glance, feeling anxious again. If I don’t tell him what I think, I’ll be betraying my friends. But I could be wrong. He could have just happened across the listing and was looking at it out of interest.
“Thanks for last night.” Florian smiles over at me. “The art lesson was great. And everything else.”
My guts twist. Of course he’s not going to make this easy.
But then, even if he says he’s buying the Rose, we still agreed to a fake boyfriending pact, and the gala is the last event.
Then, we’ll go our separate ways, and it won’t matter.
Except the way my stomach dances tells me it does matter.
Very much. Because, somehow, Florian matters to me.
Which is both an incredible and alarming thought.
“I had a great time too,” I confess, gazing at him. Watching the smile spread on his face is everything. “Your home’s amazing.”
He shrugs. “Just because of work, that’s all. Too much work.”
I swallow hard. Judging by the GPS, we’re not far from the station. “May I ask you something? And first off, I’m sorry for asking.”
His eyebrows lift, and he glances over for a moment. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I saw your computer screen in your office this morning,” I confess in a rush.
As if I say it really fast, it never happened and Florian won’t mind.
“It was on and I looked in the room to see if you were there and you weren’t but then I saw the photo on the monitor of the Rose & Crown and I had to go closer to look and it says it’s up for redevelopment, and you’re not going to buy it for real and knock it down to build flats, which seems like a really wild thing for a fake boyfriend to do—”
“Hold on.” Florian blinks, glances over again, alarmed.
My mouth shuts. We’re back to classical music and no more word volcanos from me, like a school science experiment gone wrong, spilling everywhere.
I clench my jaw and hold my breath. Oh God, what’ve I done, when everything was going so well, and I can’t believe I couldn’t just let things be. I can’t even manage a fake boyfriend.
Florian’s pink-cheeked, and my face is burning too. He pulls up past the station. “I—don’t have time to talk. I’m sorry.” His words are brusque. He looks irritated.
I don’t want him to look irritated.
“I just don’t understand why you’d look up the Rose—”
“There was a sign on the door,” Florian says, exasperated. “Obviously, you missed it. And the purchase was already in progress before I met you. We’ll talk another time. I’m already pushing it for my brother’s appointment.”
“Florian—you can’t be serious!” My hand’s tight on the door handle. I swallow hard. My eyes are hot, and people are walking up and down the pavement in front of the station like everything’s normal in the world. “How could you? My friends depend on the Rose for their work—”
Florian just looks at me. Hard. His lips tug down, and he very much has his king-of-the-boardroom look going on. And I’m totally intimidated.
“Matty. Please.” His tone is crisp. “Another time.”
“I—sorry. Fine.”
Except it’s really not fine at all.
I slip out, and he pulls off, and all I want to do is cry as I watch his black Mercedes disappear into an endless stream of London traffic. Like my heart’s been torn out of me.