You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(45)

“Thank you,” I tell her, lifting my beer to her like a toast. Jordan does the same, murmuring his thanks.

“And let my words soak in like this beer which will eventually soak into your brain. Dwelling on the past gets you nowhere. Focus on what’s happening between you two at this very moment.” With those wise words, she leaves.

“Want me to tell you what I like about you now?” Jordan asks after he takes a sip of his beer.

I nod, bracing myself. Do I really want to hear this?

Um…yes.

“I like that deep down, you’re still the same Amanda that I’ve known since I was five.” He takes another drink, and I can tell that’s all he’s going to say.

“What do you mean?” I ask after too many beats of silence. I take a drink of my beer, hoping the alcohol will eventually calm my sudden frazzled nerves. “You said just a few minutes ago that I’ve changed.”

“You have.” He points the top of his beer bottle at me. “But you’re also the same.”

“So are you,” I tell him. “Different, yet the same.”

A single brow shoots up. That same sexy move he’s done since he was my teenage dream. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“A good thing,” I say without hesitation.

“I think it’s a good thing too.”

“We agree, then, that we’ve changed yet stayed the same?” Not sure how that’s possible, but I get what he’s saying.

“I totally agree.” He smiles. Drains half his beer in one pull, then sets the bottle on the table between us. “Want a burrito?”

“I’m ordering street tacos.”

“You can’t go wrong with their tacos.” His gaze never leaves mine. “I can’t believe you’re here. With me.”

My heart trips over itself at his raw admission. “I still can’t believe it either.”

“We leave in a few days. Are you excited?”

“Yes.” Excited. Nervous. “It probably won’t be a long enough trip to explore London, but I hope we see as much as we can.”

“We will,” he says with all that Tuttle confidence. “We’ll have a few days to check everything out. I’ve arranged a tour guide.”

“Really?” I pause in my questions when a server appears, ready to take our order. I order tacos and Jordan orders a burrito, and then the waiter’s gone, leaving us alone once again.

“It’s a company that will take us on a private tour to all of the best landmarks in the city,” Jordan explains, knowing that I was waiting for more information.

“A private tour? So we won’t take a hop on/hop off bus?” I wrinkle my nose, fighting the disappointment that wants to take over me. I’ve done some research the last couple of nights, reading articles about the best sights to see in London and how exactly a person can see them all I figured our best option was one of those hop on/hop off buses.

I should’ve known Jordan had a plan already in place.

He shakes his head. “The private tour will be better.”

“But the bus looks like so much fun.”

“I can’t ride one of those buses with a bunch of tourists, Mandy,” he says. “People might recognize me.”

“Oh.” I didn’t even think of that. We haven’t dealt with that sort of thing since he’s come back into my life, and I wonder why. I tend to forget he’s supposed to be some big-time celebrity. “Don’t you ever get recognized around here?”

“No one cares who I am here.” He waves a hand around, indicating the restaurant. “A lot of the players hang out at Santana Row, so no one bothers us there either. “But when I’m anywhere else, or when any NFL team goes to another country for an exhibition game, I’m guessing they’ll be looking for us. Especially in London—the British tabloids are rampant. Or at least I’ve heard.”

Mind blowing. Seriously. “Wow, I guess you’re right. I didn’t even consider that could be a problem.”

“It’s something I’ve had to learn to deal with,” he says just before he finishes his beer. “I think I want another one.”

“Do you need to get drunk because we’re on a date?”

“You still make me nervous,” he says, like I should expect that.

But I don’t. Big, strong football player nervous because of me? I didn’t know I wielded that much power.

I ignore the nervous remark. That could open up another discussion entirely. One I might not like.

“So tell me.” I lean across the table, my voice lowering so no one else can hear me. Not that anyone in this busy restaurant is paying us any attention. “Did you really go out with Gigi Hadid?”





I can’t help it. Amanda’s question makes me laugh.

Loudly.

A few heads turn our way as I continue laughing, and Amanda’s looking at me like I might’ve lost my mind. Her question is ridiculous. Of course I haven’t dated Gigi Hadid. I met her once at a party about a year ago. She was perfectly sweet. Perfectly beautiful in that odd model like way. Better in photographs than in person, if I’m being truthful.

“Jordan,” Amanda finally says when my laughter finally starts to die. “That was a serious question.”