Chapter 19
Nineteen
Iremember crawling under the sheets and reliving each kiss with Art, but I have no recollection of falling asleep.
The next time I wake, it’s eight in the morning.
Despite only getting about three and a half hours of shut-eye, my body feels refreshed and raring to go.
Knowing I won’t be able to sleep again, I hop in the shower, and quickly dress in the only casual outfit I brought with me, my jeans and a blue chiffon blouse.
Pulling back the curtains, I look down on the high-end Tokyo shopping district of Ginza.
Many of the shops aren’t yet open, but there are plenty of people out and about.
I see a few people on bicycles. There’re men in suits carrying briefcases and students in the traditional sailor uniform school-aged children wear through high school.
I’m stuck by how much Tokyo is both alike and different from London.
A light knock sounds on the connecting door.
“Come in,” I whisper.
Art carefully slips through the door and keeps it from making too much noise. His sock is still there. When I get a full look at him, my breath hitches. It’s the first and only time he’s chosen not to dress in a suit. If you don’t count the riding clothing, that is.
Art is dressed in worn dark-wash jeans that conform to his massive hockey-player-sized legs and shapely bum.
He’s paired it with a faded Beatles T-shirt that hugs his chest. The phoenix tattoo is fully visible, and peeking out from under his shirtsleeve is another tattoo that I must’ve missed last night.
It looks like a whisk and a chef’s hat. For his love of baking perhaps?
“Good morning, Alice.”
He joins me by the window and wraps his arms around me. I smell the same gingerbread-and-honey scent as earlier. “Good morning to you too.” I rest against his strong chest.
“I heard you get up about a half hour ago and wanted to give you some time to get ready.”
“Are the three troublemakers sorted out?”
“Indeed, they are.”
“Good.” I tug slightly on his arm and look up at him. “Were you able to get some rest too?”
“A little, but what I could really use is some breakfast. Do you fancy going out this morning and doing some sightseeing?”
I inhale sharply. That’s one of the best offers I’ve ever received. Time alone with Art and the opportunity to finally see some of Japan’s architecture. “Do you mean it? Just the two of us?”
“I do. I spoke to Angela. She was more than happy to be able to have a lie-in and agreed to take the morning off, but she made me promise we’d switch this afternoon. We agreed that the security risk would be low enough to merit one protection officer.”
I let out a happy squeal, but Art places a finger on my lips, then points to the door. “Shh. Don’t wake her. We can’t let on that everything’s changed.”
I blush and giggle. “Sorry.”
He chuckles. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get our shoes and we can head out.” He releases me.
“It’s Alice. And are you going to be able to go like that?”
“Like what?” He glances down at his clothing.
“So casually? Without your, um . . . tools of the trade?”
“Our mission today is to blend in like tourists. I think this is the perfect disguise, don’t you?” He winks. “Don’t worry your gorgeous head over my ‘tools of the trade,’ as you’re calling them. They’ll be hidden on my body. Is five minutes enough time?”
“Perfect.”
The moment he disappears into his suite, I do a happy dance that would make Amanda proud. This is my first date with Art! Okay, maybe it’s not really a date, but it’s the next best thing. I’ll take it.
Running to the bathroom, I toss my hair into a messy bun, brush my teeth one more time, and layer on my signature Yves Saint Laurent pink-pearl lipstick.
Mum has pounded it into my brain that it’s the one cosmetic that should always be worn on a daily basis.
Smacking my lips together, I give myself a once-over.
I look and feel like a million pounds. For one magical day, I’ll finally be able to spend some time with the man I’m falling for.
“So what are you in the mood for this morning besides coffee? What do you usually eat for breakfast?” I ask.
We walk side by side down one of the side streets a few blocks from the hotel.
I trust that Art knows where we’re going, because if he’s relying on me, we’ll end up walking straight until we hit a dead end.
I may be good at problem-solving, but I have no sense of direction.
None of the people we pass stare at us. There are no whispers behind our backs. I’m in the Japanese bubble. I’m free.
“Coffee, fruit, and protein. Think eggs, avocado toast, cottage-cheese pancakes, things like that. It depends on what ingredients I have around my pantry and how much time I’ve allowed myself to whip up a dish. I try to work out right after I’ve gotten up.”
“Cottage-cheese pancakes?” I wrinkle my nose. “Those sound horrid. The texture alone is . . . bleh.”
“Speak for yourself. My pancakes are delicious.” He playfully elbows my shoulder. “I’ll make you a batch, then you can decide for yourself what you really think of them.”
My heart jolts at the possibility of us being together as a couple.
I picture Art standing in the kitchen of my renovated flat, happily baking to his heart’s content with the top-of-the-line appliances he’s picked out.
He’ll be in jeans and a T-shirt and don a frilly pink apron over his clothing to keep it clean.
He’ll be my teacher and help me survive on more than the standard uni diet of microwave meals and takeaway.
“Deal.” Even if this is a daydream, at least I can pretend it’s real.
“What do you like to have?”
“Either cereal or yogurt, granola, and berries. It’s like a dessert, but it counts for breakfast.”
“Is dessert what you think about most of the time?”
“Uh-huh. It’s the first thing I look at on a menu.”
“Then it’s a good thing I enjoy baking. With me around, you’ll have an endless supply of desserts.”
I lace my fingers through his and squeeze. “My hero.”
“I think we make a left at the next street.” He fiddles with his glasses and presses them higher up on his nose. “Yeah, it’s a left.”
“Can you read what the street signs say?”
“Sometimes. I tried to learn a few things for the trip, but sadly not many of the lessons stuck.”
When we turn the corner, the sleek, high-end shops give way to a lovely green space filled with towering leafy green trees, a Zen rock garden, and a koi pond.
It’s too late in the year for the cherry blossoms to still be in bloom, but if we’d been here a few months earlier, I wager it would’ve been a sight to behold.
A few tourists occupy benches as they munch on their own breakfasts, but otherwise, the park is deserted.
We pause as I take my mobile out and snap a dozen or more photos.
“We’re nearly there; it’s just on the other side of the courtyard,” Art says.
“This isn’t a park?” I sputter.
“No, it’s all part of this office building.” He laughs.
“Entryways like these should be mandatory in London,” I muse, taking notes of how the structures around us seamlessly use elements of Japan’s ancient past and greenery to give the illusion that this building has been here forever.
“I agree with you. Except I don’t know if people would be willing to sacrifice the space or the money for it.”
“You’re right. Space is at a premium in London. But a girl can dream.”
A set of glass doors opens with a whoosh. The air is nice and cool. I hadn’t realized until just now how humid it is outside.
“Here we are.” Art pulls open a door to a cafe with a pink-and-white striped awning. “Ladies first.”
Inside, it’s a whimsical world resembling a fairy garden.
Artificial trees as tall as me are covered in fake moss and bright purple wisteria.
Some of the trunks contain holes large enough for an owl to fit into, while others contain medium-sized wooden houses with red-and-white mushroom roofs and toadstool chimneys.
All the trees are interconnected by wooden bridges.
As I take a closer look at one of the black holes, I’m greeted by a pair of eerie glowing yellow eyes.
“Eek.” I jump back, bumping into Art’s chest. “What is this place?”
He lets out a deep roaring laugh. “Welcome to one of Tokyo’s infamous cat cafes.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, I notice that the ground contains about a dozen different felines who are lined up in a row, eating their morning meal. There are blacks, grays, whites, calicos, orange and whites, tuxedos, and striped tabbies.
“I hope you don’t mind cats. I know you’re a dog person, but the puppy, owl, and hedgehog cafes didn’t open this early. This one was the closest and had the best reviews. All their animals are rescues that are up for adoption.”
I rise up onto my toes and peck him on the cheek. “This is brilliant. I’m not just a dog person. I’m an animal person.”
“Phew.” He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “I booked us in for a thirty-minute visit. We can either play with the cats first or eat first.”
“Let’s eat first, then we can play.”
A few minutes later, a hostess seats us at an emerald-green table in the back area of the café, tucked away from the cats.
The lighting is much dimmer. The walls are painted hues of dark-green to resemble a forest. Each table contains a glass lantern, lit by a tealight candle.
We’re left alone with a laminated menu, thankfully written in both English and Japanese.
Art orders a stack of blueberry pancakes and a side of eggs. No surprise. I decide to be more adventurous and have a go with the matcha-flavored ones with some extra whipped cream and strawberries on top. We order a pot of Earl Grey to split.
“Have I surprised you?” He rests his elbows on the table.
“Yeah, you have. I never would’ve thought to visit a cat café. What made you think of it?”