Chapter 18
JOHN
We got cleaned up and changed our clothes very quickly, but now Olivia is trying to convince me to cancel the driver and the reservation.
“The driver’s already on his way.”
“I really don’t think he’ll be disappointed if he finds out he’ll get paid to not drive us anywhere.”
I’m already pulling out my phone to text the driver because the woman who just let me come on her tits doesn’t want to eat dinner at a fancy restaurant, so obviously I’m not taking her to a fancy restaurant tonight. “Just so we’re clear—the restaurant in Mayfair is very exclusive.”
“Just so I’m being clear,” she says as she inserts little gold hoops into her earlobes, “it’s a beautiful summer evening, and I think we should wander around!
It was incredible being outside the Royal Opera House—so much good people-watching!
I heard so many languages and different kinds of accents.
Please?!” She bounces up and down, her hazel eyes wide and shining.
“I’ve always wanted to walk around London. Have you ever? For fun, I mean.”
“For fun? No, I haven’t.”
“I’m pretty sure we can walk from here to Southbank! We can grab street food on the way and just, you know, play it by ear.”
“You want to buy food off the street? Even if we aren’t in a hurry?”
“Yes, John. I want to stroll around one of the most famous, exciting, beautiful cities in the world on a summer evening and eat fish and chips. I want to take pictures like a proper tourist and go for a ride on the London Eye if we can.”
I can’t say no to this woman. What I find myself saying instead is “I suppose it would be a good idea to post more pictures of the two of us together before the fundraiser. In case Merrick actually checks my social media.”
She frowns. It’s more than a frown. She looks disheartened. “Yeah. Exactly.”
And that’s when I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
Because saying the thing that makes this woman believe I wouldn’t do absolutely anything for her is not right.
I need to work on that.
I will.
“I would love to walk the streets of London with you, Olivia. I’ll have Iris cancel the reservation.”
“It’s, like, nine thirty in the morning over there!”
“She starts work at nine.”
“John. Just cancel it yourself,” she says.
“I honestly don’t know if I can since Iris made the reservation.”
“Then be sure to—”
“Tell her how much I appreciate her. Yes, I will do that.”
Iris answers on the second ring. “Are you on your way to dinner?”
“Good morning, Iris! We have actually decided to go for a walk, so would you please, if you aren’t too busy, cancel the reservation and the driver?” There’s a long pause. “Hello? Iris?”
“Have you been kidnapped? Is someone holding you at gunpoint?”
“No.” I’m staring at Olivia when I say, “I just want to say thank you for everything, I appreciate you, and if there are times when I’ve forgotten to tell you how much I appreciate you or haven’t adequately expressed how fond I am of you…I’m sorry.”
Olivia’s smile widens. She gives me two thumbs-up.
“Shit. Are you dying?” my chief of staff asks. She genuinely sounds worried, so that’s kind of sweet.
“Just suffering from jet lag, if you can believe that. Have a wonderful day, Iris.” I hang up.
I change into a pair of comfortable shoes, and then I hold my hand out to Olivia, and we go for a walk.
We walk from Chelsea all the way down to Southbank along the river paths.
We pick up fish and chips wrapped in newspaper from a takeaway shop near the bridge.
We eat while we walk, and we eat on a bench, and I get tartar sauce on my shirt and don’t even care because Olivia wipes it off with the tip of her index finger and then sucks it off her index finger while staring at me.
She is naughty, she can do the splits, and she challenges me, and I don’t know what I was so afraid of. Loving her is the easiest thing in the world. At least, it is on the day she had my cock in her mouth twice.
I might be tired.
I’m tired.
We will definitely be taking a cab home.
But not until we ride the London Eye and whatever else this magnificent creature wants to do tonight.
Yes, we have to drive to the Cotswolds tomorrow. Yes, I have a meeting with Merrick. No, I don’t feel prepared for that meeting. But I don’t think I would have said I felt prepared to come all over Olivia Montogmery’s tits three hours ago either, and I crushed that.
The sun won’t set for hours, and I’m hoping we’ll be at home, in bed by then—fuck the protocol.
But it does feel like a summer evening. There are a lot of people out, but it’s relaxing down by the Thames.
And not just because I came twice today.
It’s very pleasant here. I’m glad we aren’t inside a posh restaurant in a posh neighborhood.
When we’ve finished eating, we stroll down to the Queen’s Walk, hand in hand. Olivia poses for pictures with Big Ben in the background. I ask a total stranger to take pictures of us in front of the London Eye—and I have never asked a stranger to hold my camera before. Never.
There’s a busker playing a keyboard on the other side of the Ferris wheel, in front of the railing. Olivia leads me toward him. He’s playing the intro to a song that I know by heart now, but it takes Olivia a few seconds to recognize the waltz.
She gasps. “I danced to this song!”
“I know. I was at the recital.”
Her jaw drops. Her mouth isn’t as wide open as it was when she took me into it, but she is surprised that I remember. “I can’t believe you—”
“I remember everything about you, remember?”
Her lower lip quivers, but she starts to sway.
She doesn’t get down on the ground to pretend she’s asleep, but she does the waltz steps, the glissades, the jumps.
I learned all the ballet terms two years ago.
I film her with my camera. It’s very different, seeing her do this as an adult woman, but I feel that shiver of recognition.
That knowing that I’m on the right track and with the right woman. The only woman.
I put my camera away and hold my hands out, silently asking her to dance with me.
“Really?” she says. “Now?” It’s the same surprised tone I used earlier in my garden. There are a lot of people around, but they’re all minding their own business. “I didn’t think you were the type who likes to dance.”
“I’m not the type who likes to dance, Olivia.” I snake one arm around her waist and hold her hand with my other hand. “Only for you.” I pull her in closer. “Only you.”
“Do you know the name of this song?” she asks quietly.
I wait for the busker to play the chorus before singing softly into her ear.
“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee.
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away…
That song?”
I pull back to look down at her. She barely nods, looking so confused. She doesn’t even look mad about the fact that she’s so confused by me. “I can’t believe you remember that recital.”
“A number of memorable things happened today, Olivia. But I’ll definitely remember this too.”