With Love from London(8)

“Yes, everything about her was beautiful.” My eyes met his again. “She passed a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, touching my shoulder lightly. The warmth of his hand spread down my arm.

“She’s at peace now.” I paused, searching the snow-dusted garden below, unsuccessfully, for any sign of daffodils. “January isn’t just the coldest month of the year. It comes with a…feeling—like the whole world is in a slump because Christmas won’t come again for—”

We spoke at the same time: “Another year.”

His eyes searched mine with a contemplative smile. “You know, if we keep finishing each other’s sentences like this, I may have to…” His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the night sky. “Look at the stars up there, fighting to be seen through all these city lights. It’s like a battle between two opposing forces: eternity versus modernity.”

I smiled up at him curiously. “Eternity for the win?”

“Eternity always wins,” he continued. “And that is the greatest comfort, isn’t it?”

I wasn’t entirely sure of his meaning, but I liked it, nonetheless.

He gestured toward the city while I listened, enraptured. “Man built all that, invented it, created it. And as remarkable as it all is, the stars were here first.” He took a deep breath. “They’re wiser.”

I stared at him with amazement, as if he were voicing ideas that had always stirred inside of me though I’d never put a name to them.

“Nature, God, whatever you want to call it—it’s bigger than us. Bigger and more powerful than anything we can do or dream.”

I nodded. “So you’re saying what will be, will be, not because we willed it, but because it was a part of a plan?”

“Yes, or a really good novel.”

I felt his gaze on my cheek, but I continued to stare at the night sky. “Then you believe this was all meant to happen? Everything in there, and us meeting like this tonight?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“And then what?”

“Well,” he replied, eyes fixed on mine. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up becoming your best friend or even…the love of your life.”

“Well, aren’t you presumptuous,” I said teasingly, while simultaneously noting the undeniable shift in my heart.

“Who knows,” he continued. “Maybe we’ll never see each other again, and this will be a pleasant memory.”

“Béarnaise sauce on my sleeve and all,” I added with a laugh.

He grinned at me. “I like a woman who can laugh at herself. It’s a rare trait.”

“Oh, is it?”

He nodded. “We English are much too serious. That’s why I decided to get a tattoo. But if you ever meet my mother, you must deny everything.”

“A tattoo?”

He paused and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt until his strong shoulder emerged, revealing what looked like the outline of a…violin.

I shook my head, astonished. “Do you play?”

“Never even picked up a bow, but I always wanted to have music in my ear.” He smiled. “Get it?”

I nodded. I’ll be the music in your ear. Even though he couldn’t hear my thoughts, my cheeks burned hot despite the cold air on my skin. When the wind picked up, I cinched his jacket around me a bit tighter.

He noticed, taking my discomfort as a cue to change the subject.

“So, how long do you plan to hide out here, exactly? A week? A month?”

I grinned. “As long as it takes.”

“If you’re waiting for the room to clear out, it won’t. I’m sure you’re aware that many of them have suites here and stay up late drinking and playing cards.” He registered my disappointment, then eyed the garden beneath the balcony. “Fortunately, I have a plan. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”

My eyes widened as he led me to the left side of the railing.

“See that,” he exclaimed. “A ladder. The building is being reroofed this week. All you have to do is climb down, then you can sneak out the back. Voilà.”

“Voilà, except that I’m terrified of ladders. What if I slip?”

“My dear, what’s worse? This ladder or the wolves in there?”

I weighed my options, then nodded decisively. “I’ll take the ladder.”

“Good,” he said with a smile. “I’ll go first so I can help steady you from the ground.”

I watched as he hoisted his strong frame over the railing and climbed down, his muscles flexing under his freshly pressed shirt. “Now,” he called up to me from below. “Your turn.”

My heart beat fast as I followed his lead and hurled my body over the railing, just as he had done, but the result was entirely less coordinated. I set my foot on the first step, ankle wobbling a bit, but managed to steady myself.

“You’re doing great,” he said. “Take it slow and steady.”

I was suddenly struck by the absurdity of the moment—my grand escape from a disastrous date—and I began to laugh, which was when I lost my footing and slipped.

“I’ve got you,” he said as I tumbled back and downward, landing in his arms.