We make it up to the pedestrian bridge and my eyes go straight for the floor, which is over half covered in glass. You can see straight through it to the bridge surface below. Will I be walking over the glass surface? Absolutely not. I will skirt the edge and not look down.
I ignore the catch in my throat when the kids start walking, then jumping,jumping, on top of the glass. Eyes straight forward and focused on the exit to the stairs at the other end. In my research, I’d seen the glass floor, but I hadn’t anticipated reacting like this. I was fine in the Eye, but there’s something about a glass floor that has my brain saying, “It’s too risky!”
I take a deep breath.
“Are you alright?” Alex leans in to whisper. “Is the floor looking a bit dodgy to you?”
Typically, I’d feel embarrassed, but something about Alex doesn’t allow that. Before I know what’s happening, he has taken my hand and is hurrying us along.
“Want me to distract you?
Just him asking distracts me. What is even going on with this man right now? And why is he looking at me like I’m his entire focus?
“How would you distract me?”
“I could sing a song.”
From the corner of my eye, I see a teenage girl taking a photo of us. She’ll likely Photoshop her face onto me and then tape the picture to her wall.
“I think you draw enough attention without singing. I didn’t even know you could sing. Not that I know everything about you,” I add, not wanting him to think I went back to the hotel and googled him after we had ice cream. Of course I did, but I didn’t take a super deep dive. I’m not a weirdo.
“Oh, I don’t really sing. Or rather, I do, but only in the shower or in the car.”
“In that case, I think that’s exactly what I need to take my mind off the dodgy glass floor.”
Alex laughs at my dodgy use of dodgy and begins belting out that famous song from the musicalAnnie. He’s in the middle of the word tomorrow when my hand clamps down over his mouth.
“That sort of thing is illegal in enclosed spaces.” I pull him toward the exit, my eyes catching on my sister's smirking expression as I look back to make sure they know we are leaving. Of course they already know. He made a spectacle, and now my sister is mentally planning our wedding.
We’ve walked away from the bridge, and I’m not exactly sure where we’re going until Alex turns and says, “This is a great view of the bridge. I didn’t want you to miss it. Great for photos.”
He’s right. I hand him my phone. “Family photo time! Come on, kids.”
We line up in front of the bridge and Alex, with the flair of a Hollywood director, takes a few shots. He hands my phone back and I find he took a selfie while he waited for us to get ready. It’s a ridiculous photo, but he looks so good. I’ve had a thing for dark hair and blue eyes since I was a preteen and sawFrodoon the cover of a magazine at a grocery store.
No offence to Elijah Wood, but Alex standing here making small talk with my brother-in-law beats grocery storeFrodoany day.
I slide my phone back into my pocket as Alex steps back to me.
“Micah’s going to take a photo of us.”
“You want to take a photo with me?”
“Of course. I’d be a fool not to, and I need a photo of myself with the bridge. I’ll tell you about that in a minute,” he adds when I give him a questioning look.
We turn and he puts his arm around my shoulders, snuggling me into his side and I don’t hate it. It feels so good here and I’ve been missing something like this for years withoutrealizing it. Would it feel this good with someone else? I mean, probably. But maybe not.
I tilt my head toward Alex and smile while Micah takes exactly one photo. Alex should have asked Val to do it.
“It’s really good,” Alex says, handing me his phone. He’s right. It’s the most stunning photo of myself I have ever seen. I think maybe it’s my proximity to Alex, but still, I can’t help my smile. I’m not usually terribly photogenic, so this is a novel sight.
“I’ll send it to you,” he says when I hand him back the phone.
“Thanks. Want to tell me about why youneededa photo of yourself by the Tower Bridge?”
Val and Micah watch the kids play on the steps of the amphitheater we’re standing near, as Alex tells me about his aunt and her crazy stipulations on his grandfather’s box. I can’t believe her lawyer let her set this up.
“I’ve never heard of anything like this happening,” I comment.
