Chapter 22
chapter twenty two
i heart ldn
London was another one of my first loves.
It was hard not to be. Romance practically hung in the air no matter where you were. It had a certain magic to it that kept pulling you back until you realised that you’d never find a city that made you fall in love quite like London did.
It was in the way the sun would set. It was in the freshly painted phone booths. It lingered in Kensington Gardens and flowed through every line of the Tube. It was a hive mind of love, and I felt it all over again when we landed last night.
And one of my favorite things was seeing other people discover it it too.
“Guys! Come on. It’s just a giant Ferris wheel. No—no, Finn, that’s a tour group. Do you want to get lost again?”
Although, honestly, I wished they’d fall in love with it in an timely fashion.
“But I want to go on it!” Finn called back, twisting around to look at me as he tried to wedge himself through the sea of tourists. Camera round his neck. Unfolded map stuck in his hands.
I shook my head and lifted my hands in surrender. “If you’re happy paying fifty quid to be trapped in a greenhouse with thirty strangers for half an hour, then by all means, be my guest.”
Common sense flickered in his eyes, and he pulled back with a sheepish grin, beginning to walk back over to me.
“He’s learning!” I beamed, looping my arms around his neck in a quick hug before tugging us back into the group. “Now I just have to make sure you don’t get scammed into buying overpriced keyrings—” My words cut off as my gaze dropped to the trinket in his hand. “What is that?”
His face lit up. “Key chain. Says ‘I Heart London.’”
I narrowed my eyes. “And how much did that masterpiece set you back?”
He turned it over, studying it like it was priceless. “Can’t remember. Fifteen pound, maybe?”
I dropped my head into my hands with a groan.
But I told you, that’s London. It makes even bad decisions look like love. It seeps into everything and sprouts from everywhere.
Rory, Goldie, and Daisy, after snapping a few more pictures with the Eye in the background, bounded over until they were standing by me.
“I love this city,” Goldie cooed. “I can’t believe you can call this place home.”
“It has its perks,” I smiled, masking the only reason why coming back here was actually breaking my heart. “But one of them isn’t the tourists who are just constantly lost and have no social awareness, so let’s get a move on.”
“Where to next?” Jess asked as he brushed up beside us, the group back together.
My shoulders lifted. “I don’t know. I kind of want to take you all to the places that remind me of you.”
I wanted to take Jess to Camden because I just knew he’d find so many vintage clothes that he’d never, ever stop thanking me.
The girls would love Notting Hill, and I knew they’d spend hours visiting every stall on Portobello Road that we’d probably sell them out.
Finn… well, I was in two minds about whether to just leave him on an open-top bus tour and come pick him up when it was over.
As I looked over at all my friends, I smiled—until I looked in the gap between Jess and Daisy, my eyes finding our big shadow.
And then this weird thing happened. My heart jumped.
It had done a lot recently. Wasn’t sure if I was dying at first. Until I noticed that it only happened when I looked at him. Happened again just now.
This wasn’t the reason Marcus had come to London. Chaperoning a bunch of college students was certainly not the most pressing matter on his to-do list while he was here. But something about him setting aside a day to do this made me smile every time I saw him hovering behind us.
I’d decided that going forward, he could be moody all he wanted, but I knew who lay underneath the black clothes and permanent scowl. And that person was one I was starting to like more and more each day.
There was only one place I wanted to take Marcus, and that was the National Gallery.
But for now, I was happy to play tour guide for my friends.
It took another ten minutes to round them up, our next destination in sight, when all of them got distracted by Big Ben. Before long, I was waiting on the sidelines, my photo duties done, watching them have the time of their lives.
I don’t think we could’ve chosen a better time for them to be coming to this city.
If it were raining, well, I’m actually positive that they’d still be having just as much fun.
But it was simple: London thrived in the sunshine, as did its residents.
The sky was the kind of cobalt blue that we rarely got, the trees were in full emerald bloom, and the sunshine made the Thames look…
well, still brown, but more inviting than it did in the rain.
In short, everything was perfect. And I was happy to hang back and admire.
Just like the newest member of our holiday.
Marcus stood a few feet away, half in the shadows, watching the crowd more than the scenery. Not tense, just alert. That constant low thrum of awareness I was beginning to recognise as uniquely his.
I drifted towards him, my disposable camera in my hand.
“You not gonna get in one?” I asked, bumping his arm gently with my elbow.
He stayed leaned against the stone, and I joined him. His dark signlasses hid his eyes, but I assumed that he wasn't looking at me as he grunted. “I don’t photograph well.”
I huffed a laugh, staring at hime regardless. “You say that like we’re taking mugshots.”
Marcus didn't move. “Same principle. Face, name, digital record.”
I laughed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I didn’t realise your identity was so secret.”
He shrugged, peering at our surroundings. “It kind of has to be with my company. I don’t think anyone outside of Romano really knows what I look like.”
“Really?” I asked, turning to face him slightly. “Why?”
Finally, he looked down at me, his black shades lifted to the top of his head. “For the exact reason why I’m here.”
Sometimes I forgot how much was at stake with his life.
It was easier to roll my eyes and write him off as a moody control freak, but standing this close, seeing the shadows carved into his face…
I got it. The shades weren’t there because he wanted them there.
They were his armor, the only way to keep the world from clocking the storm behind his eyes.
Everything that was on the line without them.
I shrugged, looking up at him. “It’s a shame.” He looked at me, questions knitting in his brows. “I think you’d photograph really well.”
Correction: he’d paint well.
He was all the sharp angles and chiseled jawlines a painter could dream of. A stone statue in human form. A muse an artist would kill to find.
He smiled a little, just enough to show the shadows of his dimples. “That’s quite the compliment from someone who called me… what was it? An overbearing lamp post?”
My head hung in shame before lifting to find him and smiling on instinct. “That was one time. And also before I really saw you.”
Our eyes held long enough for me to think back to the only thing I thought about when I looked at him recently. I wondered if it was replaying in his mind too.
Before I slipped and let my eyes drift down to those lips, I remembered the camera in my hand. “Just one.”
I shook the thing in his face as he groaned. “No way.”
“Oh, come on! I’m the only person who’ll see this.
It won’t kill you.” Before he could protest, I lifted the camera in front of us, hoping it caught the beauty that was Big Ben just in the background.
“Smile!” I beamed, looking into the camera and stretching my arms out to capture as much as possible.
I couldn’t tell whether he was smiling or not—for all I knew, he was probably flipping me off or scowling just to get back at me when I had these developed.
The shutter went off and the flash lit up. I lowered the camera and spun around to face him. “Did you smile?”
His grin was filled with sarcasm. “Nope.”
I rolled my eyes and nudged him, earning me a laugh that made me shiver.
“Would you like me to take one of you two?” An older woman’s voice, posh and cheerful, stopped before us. Her hair was like spun silver, and her dress dotted with little daisies that matched her crossbody bag.
I turned to Marcus, eyes wide, then shifted to face the lady, my smile all kinds of giddy. “Actually, that would be lovely. Thank you!”
Marcus turned to me, face screwed up with annoyance. “Some days I think you actually might want to see me dead.”
“Always with the dramatics,” I whispered in his ear before handing off my phone to the lady and nestling myself next to Marcus.
I slipped my hand around his back, and I don’t know what gave me the confidence, but I held onto his side, my fingers feeling each and every one of the muscles beneath his white tee.
He was refusing to lift his arms around me, and I felt it—that hesitation.
Unlike when he’d cradled me into the car last week, this was casual. This was just us.
“Closer,” she called. “Act like you like each other!”
I let out a soft laugh and held my arm tighter around Marcus’ waist, saying ‘fuck it’ in my head and leaning my head against his arm. I felt him pause—just for a second—then slowly, I felt him release a breath as his arm settled around my back. Solid. Warm.
He leaned in a fraction, barely an inch, like standing next to me would kill him.
I couldn't help my eye roll. “Just act like you like me,” I murmured, re-hiking my smile for the camera.
Marcus' voice was low, close to my ear, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. “Ask me to do anything but that.”
I looked up at him. “Why?”
His eyes sank down to me, every shade of brown swirling, deepening, holding me frozen as he whispered, “Because it's killing me pretending that I don't.”
Before I could check to see if my heart was still beating, a voice cut me off.
“There! Just adorable!" I blinked before turning to face her, taking my phone from her hands. "Have a great day, sweethearts.”
My smile twitched in her direction, and I tried my hardest to not make it obvious that what he'd just said hadn't affected me. And so, without thinking, I glanced down at the screen.
The image stared back at me.
Blue sky.
Big Ben.
My smile wide, my eyes on the camera.
But Marcus…
I blinked as I stared at him.
Half of his smile was curled, and his eyes—they were undeniably on me.
We looked… together. His arm draped around me like it belonged there, my head tilted instinctively toward his. It didn’t look posed. It looked real.
Too real.
It's killing me pretending that I don't.
The whole moment felt like a flash bang in my mind, and my eyes blinked like it would erase it.
I turned the phone toward Marcus, the gentle breeze wrapping around me.
“We… uh, make a decent fake couple,” I swallowed, trying to keep my voice light.
He barely looked at it. “You should delete that.”
“But you’re actually smiling.” I looked up at him, lifting my hand to my head, blocking out the sun. “This may never happen again.”
His hard stare didn’t break, but his jaw tightened. “Hilarious.”
Silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. His eyes lingered on mine, steady, unreadable. And for a heartbeat, it felt like something unspoken passed between us, something neither of us was supposed to admit.
My chest tightened, my fingers twitching like I might reach for him if I was stupid enough. He looked like he might say more, like the truth was right there, ready to slip free, before he caught himself.
His gaze shifted toward the group ahead, where Finn was shouting my name.
“You’re being summoned,” he said, voice steady, like nothing had passed between us at all.
But I knew better.
Something had.
I quickly tapped the heart beneath the photo, tucking the phone back into my pocket before glancing at him over my shoulder, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Still not deleting it.”