Chapter 5
Five
Piper’s first week in London had a distinct undercurrent to it, summed up by the words Emilio had said to her: I need you to keep to yourself. As it turned out, she hardly had to try at all. He was like a ghost. A phantom. A presence in the house that Piper tried
not to take it too personally. He was a busy guy, after all. He’d made that clear. But for someone whose schedule was so overloaded,
he did have downtime.
His room was right beneath hers and she could hear him watching TV at night. It took her a while to figure out he was watching
the British version of The Office. Piper and Gabby had watched an episode once, but it was far more cringey than the American adaptation and Piper couldn’t take
it. She had a low tolerance for cringe. Emilio apparently enjoyed it since she could hear him laughing, a curious sound coming from her grumpy housemate. She was certain she’d never see Emilio laugh in real life. He wouldn’t dare
be so unguarded with her.
All alone and needing to occupy herself, she’d taken Gus on at least two walks a day during her first week. Sometimes it was
as many as four—rain, shine or drizzle. There was a lot of drizzle. She’d also taken an afternoon nap with Gus every day,
a luxury she loved, although Gus did snore.
Most things Gabby had asked her to do for the wedding were done, and she’d dutifully checked in like she said she would. Gabby
gave her the silent treatment for three whole days before she got over herself and called Piper back.
“Are you done being mad at me?” Piper asked.
“I didn’t expect you to bail on the wedding preparations,” Gabby said. “You stood there in Moondance Bridal and said I shouldn’t
worry about the wedding, that you would help me. You were on a plane to England the next day.”
Piper choked back an exasperated breath. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, but I had to take the opportunity. I’ve finished
everything you asked me to do, and I’ll be home in less than five weeks.”
She sighed. “But that sounds like forever. I like having you here. You’re so much better at telling Mom to back off.”
As if Piper would ever have the nerve to tell her mother such a thing. “All I do is distract her. It’s not the same.”
“If you decide you hate this job and want to come home, no one will think any less of you.”
The thought had occurred to Piper since she had a lonely and drizzly existence right now, but she really wanted the money
and she was already so attached to Gus. “I’ll keep you posted.”
Also during the first week, Piper read three cozy mysteries, decided to start doing planks and watched the entirety of a YouTube
series about an American couple renovating a massive French chateau, which only ended up making her very envious of other
people’s adventuresome lives. She also stayed busy with baking. She’d whipped up three batches of her secret recipe dog treats,
which had helped her meet a few dogs in the neighborhood, as well as their human owners.
And because caring for only one dog left her with an unusual amount of downtime, she’d gone down the rabbit hole of Emilio’s
career. The highlights were already in her head from having seen the races on TV, but it hit differently now that she knew
him. It really was astounding to watch the highlights of his on-track performances from last year. He was unstoppable. For
the other drivers, a frustrating force to be reckoned with. It was a real shame that he'd lost all that, merely because he’d
spoken up. Of course, she couldn’t bring up the topic. Emilio had been clear. They would never talk about Vermillion.
Not that they were talking about anything. There hadn’t been a single conversation. She’d at least expected a little chitchat.
A check-in here or there about Gus and how he was doing. At the very least, she thought he might ask if she was liking London
or whether she’d figured out how to navigate the neighborhood. At the very, very, very least, she thought he might inquire about what in the heck she was baking in his kitchen all the time.
But none of that had happened, and frankly, it was hard not to be annoyed. Busy was one thing, but what had happened to basic
human communication? They were supposed to travel to Italy tomorrow for the race at Imola. Shouldn’t they talk about a departure
time or what she should pack? Interact on a minimal level? She thought so. And since they seemed to have opposite schedules,
her only move was to force an interaction. Which was how she found herself up at 4:30 in the morning.
“This is so dumb,” she muttered to herself, tugging on her leggings, then wrestling with her sports bra and a workout tank.
“I shouldn’t have to wake up before the sun to talk to my boss, but apparently that’s what’s necessary in this household.”
She tucked her phone into the side pocket on her pants and ducked into her bathroom. She pulled her hair back into a high
ponytail and brushed her teeth. She couldn’t ignore that she was already starting to pit out. There was something about London
that made her sweat. It was so damp. And that was saying a lot since she came from a place with ridiculous humidity. But early summer in England was sweaty.
And that meant she was, too.
She tiptoed downstairs, carrying her shoes and socks, and put them on while sitting on the couch in the living room. Then
she crept into the hall like a ninja to lay in wait for Emilio to emerge from his room with Gus so they could go for their
run. While she was there, she quietly did a few affirmations, a habit she’d gotten into while coming to terms with her broken
engagement. “Coming to England was a good idea.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself. “There are things here that bring me comfort by reminding me of home.” Like spending all my time with dogs. “I need to see if they sell clinical strength deodorant here.” Amen to that, sister.
It was easy to wonder if she was making a poor decision by ambushing him in the downstairs hall and inviting herself on his
run. She might end up pissing him off. But the truth was he had been so grumpy with her the day they arrived. It couldn’t
possibly get any worse.
Just then she heard two sets of footfalls upstairs—human and canine. She waited as they came down the stairs. When they turned
the corner, Gus trotted down the corridor for her, filling her heart with glee and her brain with dopamine. At least someone
was excited to see her.
“Good morning, sir,” she said to Gus, ruffling his ears. God, she was so in love with this dog. He really was the sweetest
thing ever.
“You’re up?” Emilio’s voice dripped with astonishment.
“I thought I could go on your run. With you and Gus.”
He hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn’t begin to understand her simple statement. “No. You won’t be able to keep up.
If I have to leave you in an unfamiliar place, how will you find your way home?”
She dropped her head to one side. Resistance was expected, but did he really dislike her that much? “My phone. I can find
my way back from anywhere.”
“I prefer to run by myself.” He stepped closer, into the soft light from the transom window above the back door. How was he
so handsome two minutes after rolling out of bed? There was a pillow crease across his cheek, and his hair was pure chaos.
For that matter, how was he so appealing when he was being such a dick?
“I picked up my entire life to fly across the Atlantic to care for Gus, and although he has a sparkling personality and I
generally prefer to hang out with dogs, he’s not able to tell me about the better parts of living in London. So I’d love it
if you could humor me and take me for one run and show me around a little. We can talk about Gus. And leaving for Italy tomorrow.” Now that she’d started, she had
one more thing to get off her chest. “At the very least, I’d like you to show me where to find a decent cup of coffee. Because
Google lies. The Roast Office does not deserve a 4.7 rating. Their coffee stinks.”
He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “The Brits aren’t the best arbiters of coffee. That’s not a secret.”
“True.”
“But I can show you a place.”
Well, damn. She could’ve solved this problem six days ago by simply getting her ass out of bed. “I can come on your run with
you?”
He marched toward the back door, and she was the only thing standing in his way. Her brain sputtered at the sight of his approach.
“Is this your way of saying yes?”
“Yes.” He slipped past her, leaving her with a lasting reminder of what it was like to be that close to him, then grabbed
Gus’s leash and clipped it on. He flipped the latch and started down the steps into the garden. She spilled out into the backyard
behind them.
Piper knew her time with Emilio was limited, so she started with one of her many questions. “Can I help you unpack? The moving
boxes make the house seem cold,” Piper said. “And you’re paying me a semiridiculous amount of money, but I’m not anywhere
close to being busy.”
“No. You cannot help me unpack.”
“Oh. Okay.” She wondered how long it would take him to notice that she had unpacked the things in his kitchen. And reorganized it some. And recycled the boxes. What could she say? She was bored.
He opened the small gate in front of his house and let Piper past. Gus hilariously followed her rather than staying with Emilio.
“Don’t say I’m paying you too much. It’s not about what you do. It’s about the things that I don’t need to worry about.” Just
like that, he took off down the sidewalk, and Gus followed.
“Oh. Okay. I guess we’re starting now?” She hustled to catch up. “That’s fair. I’m just not used to being paid so handsomely.”
“How do you have a job that doesn’t pay well?”
She was shocked he’d asked her a question. Was this turning into an actual conversation? “It’s a labor of love. I mean, I
can pay my rent and buy groceries, but there’s not much left over after that.” She declined to tell him about her crappy car
or the fact that she’d had to move back in with her parents.