Royal Holiday (The Wedding Date, #4)(58)

And tomorrow, she would leave. That thought gave him a lump in the pit of his stomach. No, he couldn’t think about that right now; he was going to concentrate on today. He turned over the bacon in the pan and poured out their coffee, just as Vivian came out of the bedroom.

“I made us a quick breakfast,” he said. “Just toast and coffee and bacon, but don’t worry, I have good ideas for food for later.”

She picked up her coffee cup and grinned over it at him.

“I wasn’t worried,” she said. She sat down at the table and took a sip of coffee.

He brought the food and his coffee over to the table and joined her.

“Traffic and parking are going to be a nightmare today, so I thought we’d take the tube everywhere.”

She took a bite of toast and nodded.

“Do you know what I haven’t done yet . . . ?” She shook her head and trailed off. “No, never mind, there’s a lot I haven’t done yet, and I only have one more day, so it doesn’t matter.”

He put his coffee cup down.

“What if you told me anyway, though?” This was slightly dangerous; suppose she brought up going to Windsor or Wimbledon or somewhere else that would take the whole day? But he still had to ask.

She looked up at him, a sheepish smile on her face.

“I haven’t ridden on the top of one of those red buses. I know, it’s so dorky, but I’ve seen pictures of them my whole life, and Maddie and I were going to do it, but we ran out of time . . .”

Now this, he could manage.

“That’s easy. And I haven’t done that in a while, either. It’ll be a treat for me, too.”

The smile that spread across her face made him so happy, he knew he would have said yes, no matter what she’d asked for.

Thirty minutes later, they were on the upper deck of a bus, with very few other people.

Vivian looked around and grinned as they trundled through London.

“I still can’t believe these are just the normal way people get around this city. They’re so cool.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I don’t care if it makes us look like tourists; I’m going to make you take a selfie with me.”

He groaned, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

“If we must. It is your last day, after all.”

She handed him her phone.

“Your arms are longer. You take it.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and angled the camera to get some of London going by in the background. They both smiled into the phone for the photo, then—maybe because he’d been overcome by sentiment when he’d said, “last day,” he took her by surprise and kissed her on the cheek. She let out a giggle just as he took the picture.

“There.” He handed the phone back to her. “Are you happy?”

She nodded.

“Very.” She looked at the photos and smiled up at him. “Are you?”

He touched her cheek with his thumb.

“Absolutely.” He gestured to her phone. “Send those to me, won’t you?” he asked her.

She grinned and nodded.

They decided to go to the Tate Modern, mostly because it was on this bus route. After a few hours of culture, they headed to Borough Market, an outdoor covered marketplace with tons of stalls selling different kinds of food. Vivian’s eyes widened as they walked inside, and he grinned. He knew she’d like it here.

“I thought we’d have dinner at my apartment tonight, since anywhere we went would be a madhouse. We can eat lunch here, then pick up all sorts of supplies for tonight,” he said.

“That sounds perfect,” she said.

They wandered around the whole market and stopped at stalls that sold cheese, charcuterie, bread, jam, chocolates, oysters, and all sorts of meat pies, and bought all the above and then some. They ate until they were bursting, and then bought cake for dessert.

The tube ride back home was unusually boisterous. Most of the time, Londoners didn’t interact with one another on public transportation, but there were too many excited people on there for it to be a normal day. Okay, excited wasn’t quite the right word; most of them seemed half-drunk already, but in the happy, giggly way, which made both him and Vivian laugh, too.

When they walked into his apartment, Vivian helped him put the food away, then threw herself on the couch.

“I can’t bring myself to regret that last sausage roll,” she said, “even though it might kill me.”

He lay down next to her. Thank goodness this couch was roomy.

“My problem was the dumplings. They were delicious, but did I need all twelve?”

They looked at each other and laughed.

“Yes, obviously, you did,” she said.

Later that afternoon, they took a sunset walk down to the Thames. Vivian would never get over how early sunset was here at this time of year. It was also very cold, but between how well she was bundled up and Malcolm’s warm hand in hers, she didn’t care.

Despite how dark it was this early, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. It obviously wasn’t just Malcolm, but he’d made this vacation such a dream—so relaxing, and fun, and interesting. And the way he looked at her sometimes . . . well, those parts had been an added delight.

When they got back to his apartment, she immediately shed all of her outer layers, then paused and stared at her half-packed suitcase. Malcolm came out of the bathroom and saw her standing there.