Page 12 of From London, With Love

“Here you go, lads.” Olly’s northern accent thickens on the last word. We thank him, receiving a salute in response as he makes his way over to the next customer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Teddy finally replies in a sing-song voice.

I stare daggers at my brother, which only causes him to chuckle. Knowing I won’t stop until I get an answer, Teddy lets out a sign before he continues. “An old friend I haven't seen since high school. Her name is Margot, if you must know.”

“Interesting.” I take a sip of my beer.

“Interesting?” he questions, another laugh on the tip of his tongue. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, brother. You looked quite cosy, considering you haven’t seen each other for about 13 years.”

“You want to play that game, little brother?” Teddy takes a swig of his beer. “How’s Molly?”

I’ve been waiting for this question. My first date with Molly was awkward at best, at least for me. The conversation felt stilted, and I had no idea what to talk to her about.

Molly, apparently, felt differently. A few days later, she’d asked me if I wanted to grab a drink, and I almost felt obligated, given how shit our first meeting was. It had been a little while since I’d been on a real date, and it showed. We caught up, I apologised for the terrible date, and we laughed itoff.

“I wish I knew how to answer that question,” I respond honestly, rubbing my thumb along the neck of my beer bottle. Teddy narrows his eyes on the action.

“You’re doing the thing, Cart. What’s up?”?

I exhale a small breath before looking at my brother. “Molly is great Teddy, she is, but something is off. We’ve been on numerous dates these past few months, but it’s nothing more than friendship on my side.” It feels good to give a voice to my thoughts. “She’s nice enough, and obviously beautiful, but there’s nospark.” I continue.

“Hmm,” Teddy hums, his eyes boring into me like he can see through my skin and directly into my thoughts. A man of few words at the most inconvenient of times. Feeling a little vulnerable, I break eye contact and instead take in my surroundings.

The pub’s stone wall interior reminds me of a cottage; the fireplace below the mantle really sells the vibe. The heavy wooden door is adorned with wrought iron features, looking like it came straight from a Scottish castle. The bar runs the length of the left-hand side, and bottles of every spirit under the sun line the wall behind it. Provincial-style wall sconces provide a majority of the light, giving it the sort of ambience you’d expect in the Cotswolds. There’s just something about the cosy pub that brings me comfort.

My eyes return to Teddy. With his arms crossed on top of the table and brows dipped in thought, he looks every bit the wise older brother in this moment.

“Any words of wisdom, or just hums?”

Teddy straightens before leaning into the low back of his stool. With his arms now crossed against his chest, he gives me a small smile.

“She could be the most wonderful person you’ve met, but itmeans nothing if you don’t feel a connection on a deeper level, Cart.”

Damn him and his fucking wisdom.

I suppress a laugh. Not because what my brother said is funny, but because he’s unnervingly spot on.

Trying to lighten the mood, as usual, I respond, “Shit, Theodore, no need to go all therapist on me.”

My words have the desired effect: Teddy’s facial expression warps into a harsh scowl. It’s not that he doesn’t like his full name; he just prefers Teddy when it comes to the people he holds close. Theodore makes him feel like he’s in trouble.

The scowl pointed in my direction only deepens when I let out a chuckle.?

“Way to deflect, you shit.”

My chuckle turns into a deep belly laugh at this, and it only takes a few passing seconds before Teddy joins in.

Sitting at my very empty dining table the following morning, I rest my head in my palms, running my hands over my face once, twice, before clasping them together and resting my chin on them. An internal deliberation begins to take place between my head and my heart.

The last thing I want to do is lead Molly on, but I fear that’s exactly what I’ll be doing if we continue to see each other.

But on the same token, the old saying goes, ‘good things take time’, right?

What if Molly and I could have something special, and I’m about to fuck it up because I didn’t let it play out long enough?

Five minutes later, I come to a decision. There’s a 50:50 chance I’ve made the wrong one, but at least I’ve chosen.

---