Chapter 13
Thirteen
Jenna, my best friend since childhood, asks me to have lunch with her in Covent Garden a few days later.
It’s now mid-July. She’s in her final year of studies at the Westminster Ballet School’s Upper School and one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.
I’m sure she’s going to become the next rising star in the Westminster Ballet company, although she’s modest and will tell you otherwise.
We’re seated outside at a restaurant that’s near the London Transport Museum.
A set of tall shrubs hides us from view, but we can still see the crowds of tourists working their way through the many stalls of the Apple Market and Jubilee Hall.
A street musician plays an acoustic guitar, providing a fun and lively atmosphere.
Angela is on duty today and has taken the table across from us.
She’s rereading one of the Bridgerton novels on her tablet, before the latest telly series drops later this week.
She’s tried to convert me to watching it too, but as I’ve told her, I refuse to until I’ve finished the books first. They’re always better than a telly series.
At least, that’s the stance I’m taking until proven otherwise.
“Spill the beans, Alice! I’ve been dying for the details all week! How did it go?” Jenna asks.
“It was an utter disaster,” I admit. Thinking about Eric still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Jenna’s hazel eyes widen as she stirs her bowl of gnocchi around slowly. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“No, it was. Trust me.”
She arches her eyebrow in challenge.
“Okay, maybe my date with Eric didn’t start off as a disaster, but it certainly ended that way.”
“Tell. Me. Everything.”
I lean forward in my seat and speak in a low tone.
“It all started with a casual lunch together at Charlie’s.
We picked up the conversation right where we’d left off at the I Love Lucy event .
. .” I don’t leave out any details. Jenna listens with rapt attention.
“. . . then after I told him to leave, Art and I rode back to the stables and took care of the horses.”
“Blimey, I can’t believe he did that. How did Amanda react?”
“She was mortified and kept apologizing. I still feel semi-guilty that all that effort she put into the date was wasted.” I reach for my water glass.
“And Edmund? Did he go into protective older brother mode?”
“Uh-huh. Eddie was like a volcano. He marched into his office, slammed the door shut, and ripped Eric to bits over the phone. Even with the door closed, I could clearly hear everything he said. I’ve seen him get angry once or twice, but this time, even I was scared.
Needless to say, they’re no longer friends. ”
Jenna lets out a low whistle. “I would not want to be on the bad side of your brother. Or your father. They’re both downright terrifying.”
“Agreed.” I take a heaping bite of my lasagna and chew slowly.
“Where do you go from here?”
“Amanda is begging me to give her another chance. She’s promised that if I agree to another date, she’ll make sure the bloke is properly vetted before we go out, but I don’t know.” I sigh. “I’m not too keen on another date anytime soon after the experience with Eric. What do you think I should do?”
Jenna takes a moment to study me. “I think you should tell Amanda exactly what you’re telling me.
I think you just need some time to process and move past the whole experience.
Say you’ll keep her offer in mind for the future, and when you’re ready, you’ll let her know.
I know it wasn’t easy for you to agree to a date in the first place. ”
Jenna was one of the few people who was able to get through to me when I hit rock bottom after the media storm. She’s the one who suggested I travel during my gap year.
“There’s something else you’re holding back. Isn’t there,” she states more than asks.
“There is.” I never have been able to hide anything from her.
“Well, get on with it.”
I glance in Angela’s direction. She’s still engrossed in her book.
“This is a state secret. It has to stay strictly between us.”
She zips her lips closed and holds up her hand to show she promises.
“There is somebody I like, but it’s complicated.” On cue, the guitar busker begins to sing Taylor Swift’s “Lover.”
“Who?” she whispers.
“Arthur,” I admit in a barely audible tone. I can’t believe I’ve just said his name aloud.
“Your personal protection officer?” she mouths to me.
“Yes.” I cover my face with my hands.
“Oh, Alice. It had to be him?”
“I know. I’m in so much trouble. I see him every day and it’s a battle of my wills to keep my mind focused on what I’m doing. He’s in all my thoughts, and lately, all my dreams.”
Last night, for instance, I dreamed about Art and I going for a ride together in clothing from Jane Austen’s time.
The top hat. The form-fitting jacket. The breeches.
All the Regency-era clothing fit him so well.
He was just like Matthew Macfadyen, my favorite Mr. Darcy.
Everything in the dream seemed so real. I could smell the lavender of the field.
Feel the damp morning fog upon my skin. We were just about to kiss when my alarm went off.
“And you can’t tell anyone or else he’ll lose his job,” Jenna says.
I nod, hunching my shoulders. “I’m caught in an ugly catch-22.”
“All things aside, let’s say there weren’t any restrictions holding you back from telling Arthur how you feel. Are you convinced he’s the right lad for you?”
I lift my head slightly, “I’m about sixty-five percent sure.”
Jenna finishes her meal and pushes her plate to the side. “Then it seems to me that we need to figure out a way to get you to be one hundred percent sure.”
“How am I going to do that? And what happens if I do become a hundred percent sure? Or if he doesn’t feel the same way I do?”
“We tackle one thing at a time. First, we need to be sure about you. Because if you don’t end up really liking him, then there’s no point in worrying about the consequences.
I know you said you weren’t keen on going out on another date, but in this case, I think it’s a necessary evil to help you confirm to yourself where your heart stands. ”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.” I push my plate aside; I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
“I promise you won’t have another experience like last time.
I have two lads in mind who I know would be complete gentlemen to you if you were to go out with them.
One of them is a dance classmate of mine named Alfie, and the other is a friend from school named Oscar.
Both are the type of blokes who would make you feel more like you’re hanging out with a friend rather than out on an actual date.
” Jenna locks eyes with me. “There’s no pressure.
This is your call. If it’s something you decide to do, just send me a text. ”
My head is telling me to listen to Jenna’s advice.
I’ve only been around Art for a few weeks.
My feelings in that time have grown from wanting him out of my sight to counting down to the moments we’re able to spend time together.
There are still so many things I don’t know about him.
Is he even single? Would he even consider dating a woman like me?
The muscles in my stomach clench. What if he sees me as too young? As a child? Or maybe he considers me an entitled brat. I mean, he’s told me we’re friends, but was he just saying that? Or did he mean it?
I hear his voice in my head from last week. “I state the facts as I see them.” My pulse increases. Art wouldn’t lie about being my friend. He doesn’t mince his words. He says exactly what he means. Could our friendship grow into something more?
I lick my lips. “I’ll do it.” Butterflies flutter inside my stomach.
I vow to myself here and now that this time, I’m going to be in control of the situation.
I’m going to ensure I put myself out there and test my heart.
I have to know . . . Is what I’m feeling the beginnings of love? Or is it just a passing infatuation?
Jenna reaches across the table and places a hand on mine. “You’ve made the right decision. My father is fond of both Alfie and Oscar. If you need a character reference, he’d be happy to provide it for them.”
Hearing Jenna say that her father approves of them takes a small weight off my shoulders. I value the words and opinions of Dr. Evans equally to those of my own father. “I trust you.”
On Thursday, Art and I travel to my flat to see how work on it is progressing.
It’s been about two weeks since my parents gave the green light for construction to begin.
The timeline for the entire project is supposed to be twelve weeks, which I think is ambitious.
In my opinion, it’s more of a sixteen-week project.
But I’ll leave that in the hands of the project manager.
“Ma’am, I’m not letting you go in there without the proper safety gear.” Art shoves a hard hat, safety glasses, and a yellow construction vest into my hands.
“I wasn’t planning on not wearing any. That’s why I wore steel-toed boots today.” I point to my feet. “I’m going to be an engineer; these items are going to become my uniform. You and Angela better get accustomed to it too.”
“Mmph.” Art closes the boot of the car and places his own helmet and glasses on his head, and a vest over his suit jacket.
“Um . . .”
“Yes?” He cocks his head to the side.
“You may want to remove your jacket. There’s a lot of dust floating around, and I’d hate to see it get covered with bits of debris.
It looks expensive.” He’s wearing another black blazer today, but this time with a light-blue dress shirt and a silver tie.
Blue’s quickly becoming my favorite color on him.
I love how it accentuates the flecks of green and gold in his eyes.
“It’s just a men’s basic blazer from Primark.”
“Hmm, I had you pegged as a Savile Row gent.”