Chapter 5
Five
I swipe to unlock the screen and see it’s Liz.
Mentally, I face-palm. I’ve forgotten we’re supposed to meet for dinner.
Hoping I can play it off without her knowing, I say, “Hiya, I’m on my way now.
Mr. G kept me a little longer than I’d anticipated.
” I make a U-Turn, jog up the steps for the street level, and power walk along Piccadilly toward Covent Garden.
She huffs on the other end. “Should I go ahead and order for you?”
“Please and thank you.”
“What are you in the mood for? Your usual?”
“Um . . . no. I’m feeling more adventurous today. Let’s do the unagi bento box.”
“Do you want a side of edamame to go with all that?”
I grin. “Yes, please.”
“All right. It’ll be here when you arrive. I’m in the back corner near the dragon statue.”
“Got it. I’m just passing Fortnum and Mason now, so give me twelve minutes.”
Liz tells me to take my time, but I still feel a twinge of guilt.
Disconnecting from the call, I slip the phone into my pocket and soak in the scenery around me.
Piccadilly is usually an area Londoners tend to avoid since it’s always brimming with visitors, but that’s something that draws me to it.
I enjoy seeing the high-end shops, window displays, and architecture, and knowing that history has happened here.
Take the Princes Arcade, for instance. I pause and glance into the window of a shop with an oversized vintage travel case, several pairs of men’s dress shoes, bowler hats, and ties. This is one of the places where men’s fashion literally took off.
Back in the eighteenth century, dandies—men who liked to dress flamboyantly—used to flock to this area to purchase the latest silk jackets, breeches, gloves, and other accessories.
I can just picture a trio of gentlemen, stopping to chat with friends en route to their clubs.
This is just one of the many reasons I’ve fallen in love with the city and can’t ever imagine myself moving back to Canada.
Continuing my walk, I pass the bright illuminated screens of Piccadilly Circus, a few theatres, and finally end up on Monmouth Street, about a block from Leicester Square.
Mame’s is a mom-and-pop Asian fusion restaurant that’s tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Liz and I discovered it by accident our second year when we were looking for a place to escape the rain.
Lin, one of the restaurant’s owners, is chatting with a couple at the outside podium. “Annyeong,” I say, walking past her. It’s one of the few words I’ve picked up from my dad. She manages a brief wave.
Dad tried to teach me Korean as a kid, but unlike Cam, I was never able to retain anything.
It drove him mad, especially when my grandparents came to visit.
The best I could manage was a couple words like “hello” and “goodbye.” I hated it when my brother would show off and enjoy watching me struggle.
At least with mom’s relatives, I fared a little better.
When you grow up in Canada, where French is a required subject and you hear it spoken all around you, there’s no excuses not to know it.
Not to mention there is a lot of French used in ballet.
Maybe it’s not that I couldn’t learn Korean, but that I wasn’t as motivated.
Entering the restaurant, I’m hit with the scent of fresh veggies, spices, and meat.
The music is soft, but just loud enough to block out the buzz of conversations happening around us.
I weave around the eight circular tables in the center of the room and slide into the back booth where Liz is waiting for me.
“It’s busier than I’ve seen it in a long time.”
“Lin said they were featured on a popular foodie blog. She’s been fielding calls left and right ever since, asking for reservations. They’re booked up for the next two months.”
“Wow.” I slide my handbag off my shoulder and set it down next to me. “I mean that’s great for Lin, but sad that we might not be able to have a secret hideaway much longer.”
“No, we might not.” Liz nods as she reaches for her tea. Her leg is bouncing up and down with nervous energy.
I sigh. “What do you wanting to know?”
“Everything! Start again with the bit about your sketchbook. What was this accident you alluded to earlier?”
I reach for a pod of edamame. The skin is rubbery underneath my fingers as I work on prying the case open to reach the precious snap peas. “I spilled coffee on it at Horse Guards Parade.”
“Min!” She face-palms. “How could you let that happen?”
“I was being robbed,” I mutter in a low tone.
Liz’s body jerks. “Hold on? You were robbed? Are you okay? Why didn’t you ring me straightaway?”
“Physically, I’m fine. I couldn’t call anyone because my phone was broken.”
“But you picked up my call on the way here.”
“One of the tech guys at the museum worked their magic to get it to turn on. It’s only a temporary fix though. I’m going to get a new one tomorrow. The screen shattered, and he said something’s wonky with the chip. There’s no telling how long it’ll function.”
Liz looks me up and down, confirming I’m telling her the truth, and that I really am all right. Knowing she won’t let the issue drop until I bring her up to speed on all the details, I recount the story again from the beginning.
I clear my throat. “Everything started when I decided to be a nice person and return a spur I found on the ground that belonged to a soldier . . .”
By now, I’ve relived this several times over. I’m tired of it and ready to move past it, but thankfully, Liz is patient and doesn’t ask me anything until I finish.
“. . . so I left the museum and then I met you for dinner.”
“That’s a lot to take in.” Liz’s eyes are wide. We were both so wrapped up in the story, neither of us has noticed that our food has been sitting in front of us, growing cold. I reach for my bento box and immediately help myself to some of the rice and a piece of fried eggplant.
“Was the soldier bloke cute?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Out of everything you could possibly ask me, that’s your first question?”
“Yes. Priorities.” She slides her tea to the side and uses her chopsticks to help herself to her sushi. “It sounds like you spent a good amount of time chatting with him, which is more than you’ve done with any guy in the last year. I had to bribe you to go out with the last chap.”
I glare at her. I thought we’d agreed never to mention that again.
Liz didn’t tell me until it was five minutes before my blind date that it was her much younger cousin.
With an eleven-year age gap, it felt like I was acting as a teenager’s chaperone rather than going out on a date.
But the most humiliating part was when we ran into some of his friends, and they decided to ditch me.
After that, I swore I wouldn’t let her set me up on another date again.
Not that I’ve given much thought on going on any dates.
These last couple of months, between squeezing in the last couple of required school classes and working on my senior project, there simply wasn’t any time.
But now that I’ve graduated, I really don’t have any excuses.
When I’m not working at the gift shop, I’m technically free.
“Yeah, he was pretty cute.” I picture Sam removing his helmet and the fuzzy auburn-brown peach fuzz hiding underneath. I recall those warm chocolate-brown eyes that came to life when we were alone in the stables.
“Oh, you’re thinking about him. Darn it. Did you get his name and number?”
I blanch. Liz knows I’m not the type of person who makes the first move. I ignore the second part of her question. “His name was Sam. Sam Baker.”
She cracks a cheeky grin. “Did you remember what regiment he was with?”
“Um . . . his coat was a navy blue with a red collar.”
“Then he’s with the Blues and Royals.” She snaps her fingers together. “My oldest brother’s flatmate is a former member of the Blues. He’ll know who this Sam is, and if we’re lucky, maybe he’ll come through with a mobile number—and let us know if Sammy-boy is single.”
“No, Liz.” I vehemently shake my head. “I don’t want you asking your brother for any favors.”
“I suppose you’re right. He can be a tad overprotective.”
I snort. That’s the understatement of the year.
All Liz’s brothers are like a pack of wolves when it comes to protecting their sister, and by default, me.
The last guy she dated was scared off when he showed up with their middle brother to our flat to “borrow” a DVD he apparently loaned Liz.
They ended up staying until Liz returned home and walked the guy to the Tube stop. She never heard from him again.
Growing up, I’d always wondered what it would be like if Cam and I had been close.
Our relationship is more like that of cousins who only see each other once a year than that of a brother-sister.
There’s an eight-year age gap between us.
We didn’t have much in common. He was always doing things with his friends or studying for exams, while I spent all my time in the dance studio.
Maybe I should call him one of these days.
My thoughts circle back to Sam. “If I pursue this guy, I want to do it on my own. Not that I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to go through with it,” I quickly add.
“I’m afraid if I don’t push, you’ll just sit back and do nothing.
” She rests her head against the back of the booth.
“I know you’ve been off dating, but once you get back in the saddle again, maybe you’ll find it’s something you enjoy doing.
You just need the right horse.” She snickers at her cleverly worded puns.
I roll my eyes, take a bite of rice, and chew slowly. “If you must know, I, er . . . plan to swing by Horse Guards again tomorrow before the changing of the guards.”
“You do?”