Chapter 7 #2
CH: I’ll come watch, but I think I’ll stick with golf.
LH: Suit yourself! Where are you?
CH: London. Flying to Istanbul tomorrow night… Riley and I are doing a hot air balloon in Cappadocia!
LH: Oh that’ll be beautiful! Send pictures and BE CAREFUL!
LH: Otw to the YMCA now.
LH: Lmk when you arrive. I’ll pick you up! Love you!
CH: I will. Love you too.
No sooner had I sent the last message to Mom, my phone buzzed again. But instead of her name lighting up the screen, Gregg’s did. It hovers there like a spark ready to catch. My stomach lurches and I tap open the message.
GH: Hiya Cameron. No need to apologize! Sorry for the delayed response. I got home and made a few work calls, then passed out! Would you like to meet for tea? What does your afternoon look like?
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and an unexpected eagerness to reply rushes through me, leaving me confused by my own reaction.
CH: Hi! I actually just finished a run. I’m sitting on a bench in Kensington Gardens now.
Chat bubbles appear and pause, and a new message pops up within seconds.
GH: Kensington? You’re near! That’s perfect actually. There’s a small café I know near my house. Off Brompton Road.
GH: Do you need to go back to your hotel? I could pick you up or meet you?
I think for a moment before replying.
CH: No, I’m good. I’ll freshen up before going out tonight. I’m staying in Kensington. But I don’t give out the name of the hotel.
CH: You could be a psycho ;)
The chat bubble pops up almost immediately. He clearly is eager to respond.
GH: Can never be too cautious. But I assure you I am not a psycho :)
GH: If you’re free now, I could meet you in about fifteen minutes?
CH: Sure. Where is the place?
A small pin on a map blinks on my screen. I tap it open and try to figure out where it is in relation to where I am sitting. Brompton… right on the corner near that little square by the Victoria and Albert Museum. From this bench, it would probably take me ten, maybe fifteen minutes to get there.
CH: That works for me. See you in a bit :)
I’m waiting to cross the mess of traffic on Kensington Road when my own reflection catches me off guard in the polished side of one of London’s iconic red buses.
It jolts me right out of the fog I’d been stuck in.
Staring back at me is… well, a wreck. I’m jet-lagged, hair sticking up in places, and a sweat-soaked shirt clings to me in all the wrong places.
The bus rumbles off, taking that version of me with it, and the crowd nudges me forward across the street.
God. I’d normally never be caught dead meeting anyone looking like this.
My hair is damp, my clothes creased, and I’m not even sure what this meeting was supposed to be.
This isn’t a date, I tell myself firmly. It’s just tea. With a friend.
Friend? Yeah, okay, that feels generous. We are barely acquaintances. But the word date hovers annoyingly in my mind.
Why did I even think that? I cringe inwardly. Shit, that’s so embarrassing. It’s just tea. With a guy. A handsome guy.
I shake my head hard, trying to physically knock the thoughts out. Stop it, Cam.
Gregg is already there, sitting at a small outdoor table, looking perfectly casual and maddeningly composed.
I pause behind the shelter of a bus stop and watch him for a second.
A glass of water rests in front of him, the sunlight catches on the condensation sliding down the sides.
He looks like someone who doesn’t have to try to be calm, he just is.
His dark hair sticks out from under a Chelsea Football Club hat, and of course even that looks good on him.
The stubble along his jaw appears almost sculpted, and the teal polo with jeans?
You’re kidding me, right? Effortlessly put-together.
Confidence practically radiates off him.
Suddenly and unexpectedly, I feel steadier, which is a pretty strange feeling to add to the mix. Maybe it’s being in London, or meeting someone I barely know in a place so far removed from my normal life? Whatever it is, something inside me has clicked.
I step off the curb and jog lightly across the street.
Gregg notices me as I approach, and when our eyes meet, he smiles.
It’s warm, easy, and completely disarming.
He lifts a hand in greeting, and just like that, the nerves that had been churning in my stomach fall away…
replaced by a feeling I can’t quite name, but definitely feel.
“Hey!” Gregg calls as he stands, his tone warm and welcoming. “You made it.”
“Sorry for keeping you,” I reply, offering him a smile as I try and catch my breath. “The crowds really know how to slow someone down.”
“No need to apologize.” He gestures to the chair across from him. “I’ve had a pleasant time people-watching and getting some air. Besides, it looks like you’ve already been on a bit of an adventure.” His voice is teasing, but the look in his beautiful eyes is nothing but kind.
I laugh and drag a hand through my sweaty hair. “Yeah, I guess I’m not exactly presentation-ready. But I figured a dress code wasn’t necessary.”
Gregg’s smile widens. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look just fine.”
I sit down, noticing the glass of water already waiting for me, and something inside me shifts.
Maybe this wasn’t a date, or maybe it was something hovering in that strange space between.
Either way, I let myself settle into the moment and be curious, unsure, and oddly hopeful about where it might lead.
A server appears at our table with a cheerful smile, two menus tucked under their arm. After a quick glance at the offerings, Gregg and I both order an Earl Grey tea and decide to share a plate of scones with clotted cream and jam, because if you’re in London, you might as well lean all the way in.
Once the server leaves, I lean back in my chair and let out a small sigh of contentment, and, surprising myself, jump right in.
“Alright, Gregg,” I say, giving him a playful smile. “Tell me something interesting about yourself. But something I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”
He tilts his head, thinking, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows. “Hmm. Well… I’ve been on safari in Kenya, and slept under the stars right in the middle of the Maasai Mara.”
My eyes go wide. “That sounds incredible! I bet it was breathtaking.”
“It was,” he agrees, with warmth. “There was something humbling about being surrounded by so much, like, untamed beauty. The wildlife, the quiet of the savannah at night… It was unforgettable. One morning we even woke up to a roaring lion!”
I let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s a story for the ages. The wildest thing I’ve woken up to is my neighbor’s chihuahua yapping through the wall of my apartment.”
Gregg chuckles richly and genuinely. “Fair enough. Your turn.” His eyes sparking with curiosity. “Tell me something I wouldn’t guess about you.”
I drum my fingers on the table lightly, pretending to think deeply. But I settle for my easiest Fun-Cameron-Fact. “Okay, you’ll never believe it, but I can probably quote the entire movie Titanic from memory.”
“Titanic?” Gregg blinks, leaning forward with an amused grin that made me want to roll my eyes and smile at the same time. “That three-hour monstrosity? Seriously?”
“Absolutely,” I say with mock seriousness. “And it’s a cinematic masterpiece. Not a monstrosity.”
“It is a monstrosity of a film,” he maintains playfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen more than a few scenes.”
“Okay, one, you need to see it all the way through. And two, how is it a monstrosity?”
“Well, for starters.” Gregg settles into the debate like he’d been waiting years for it. “It’s far too long of a picture. And it’s cliché. We all know the ship sinks in the end, and I’m sorry, there was room for, what’s his name? There was room for him on that door.”
“Jack?”
“Yes, Jack. There was room for him at the end.”
“Okay, some valid points,” I admit with a shrug. “But Jack had to die.”
“And why is that?” he asks dramatically. “She literally says, ‘I’ll never let go,’ and then lets him go!”
“Because he had to die for Rose to become her own person. To make her own life,” I explain my take, watching him process it. “And you’re taking that line way too literally. She’s telling him she’ll never let go of her promise to never give up. She’ll never let go of the railing she climbed over.”
“Hmm.” Gregg drums the table with two fingers, smirking. “Thank you for your film analysis, Professor.”
“It’s one of my favorites,” I concede, grinning. “And actually, the line is, ‘Thank you for that fine, forensic analysis.’”
Gregg laughs. “See, I have no idea what that means. What’s your favorite scene?”
“Probably the part when Rose is in the lifeboat.” My voice drops before I can help it. “And she jumps back onto the ship. It’s an instant where she chooses love over safety.”
Gregg studies me, like he’s just uncovered a layer I didn’t mean to expose. “And here I thought you’d say the drawing scene,” he teases lightly.
“I have layers, Gregg.” I roll my eyes, laughing.
Our tea arrives, and the server places a small platter of perfectly arranged scones between us. I reach for one, breaking it open gently so it doesn’t crumble everywhere.
“So,” I say, trying to sound casual. “What brought you to New York? Business, I’m guessing?”
“You’d guess correctly.” Gregg nods as he spreads a generous smear clotted cream across his scone with ridiculous precision. “I have a project I’m working on here, but I needed to meet with some American investors.”
“Well, I hope all went well.”
“I certainly think so.” He glances up at me. “Do you enjoy living in New York?”
“It’s chaotic,” I admit. “But in the best way. It’s never boring.”
“Do you get much time to enjoy it, though? With your job, I imagine you’re always on the move.”