“So?” I frown.
“Tell me that’s not bending for love.”
More like bending for Eve’s manipulation.
“Punching Atherton out. Worrying about Eve. The donation to that dog sanctuary. Ha! You’re not as sneaky as you think!”
“Not sneaky at all, considering it went through accounts. It was a tax write-off.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t for love? To impress your love.”
“Idiot. I am clearly coming down with something. I need a doctor, not this pseudotherapist shit!”
“What you have, there’s no remedy for. Fight it, or give in—makes no difference. The bottom line is, there’s no escaping love.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I force myself to sit with his words, to stop denying them but rather feel what they do to me.
Fight or capitulate.
“Just be with me.”It’s what I asked her that night in the folly, my heart beating so hard that it hurt. A lot like now.“Be with me because you want me.”
I couldn’t look up at her, couldn’t take a denial. Instead, I turned my face and pressed my lips to her palm.
“I’m not asking you to promise me anything.”
“Be with me because you want to be.”
My heart spoke the words that my head was too fearful to give.
Because I love you.
I sit straight in my seat. “Well, fuck!”
Chapter 36
EVIE
As the summer days begin to shorten and the evenings cool, my connection to Oliver—our tentative relationship—takes a turn into ridiculously cute. We walk Bo together in the evenings, often stopping for an ice cream as we stroll through one of London’s royal parks. On weekends we drink coffee by the river, and after dark, you can find us drinking cocktails at exclusive rooftop bars.
We kiss on street corners, canoodle under lampposts, and sneak smooches wherever we can, not caring who might be watching. It’s like my life has become someone else’s Instagram feed with a filter that might well be callednew beginnings. It’s not a highly curated feed—there are no fakes. I’m not a woman standing in front of a man asking him to take a dozen shots just to get one perfect one. Each moment has its own kind of perfection, even the ones where steam of frustration seems to shoot from Oliver’s head. Moment after moment, everything between us just seems so natural.
Not to be confused with naturism.
My mind bends to that night at Kensington Palace. The night we gave in to our attraction and ultimately agreed to be together without fear of expectations. Oliver, my inadvertent hero, was so sweet, even if the sequence of events wasn’t exactly perfect.
Oliver’s sweet kisses and words. His tender touches with his handkerchief.
Then one of London’s finest tactfully clearing his throat.
My panic as Oliver unhurriedly righted my dress.
My hand in his as he shielded me from the officer’s torchlight ... nimbly stuffing my ruined panties into his pocket.
The frightening size of the police officer’s tactical weapon. (Not a dirty joke.)
And the imagined headline in my head: VET CHARGED WITH PUBLIC INDECENCY FOR HAVING SEX IN THE KING’S GARDEN—SHE’S TO BE DEPORTED!
That would be so much worse than a lousy Pulse Tok video.
