Page 43 of From London, With Love

“Are you sure?”

Mia sighs, resting a palm on my knee. “Yes, Lars, I’m sure. But let’s not discuss the details.”

We exchange small smiles, and all the while, Harper remains silent.

“Okay.” I break the silence, crossing my legs beneath me and settling in for story time like a kindergartener. “I need the complete rundown on your family tree, please.”

We spend the next hour gossiping about Mia’s family history, and I’m slightly embarrassed by how little I knew about her family. I learn Mia’s parents are still disgustingly in love after 35 years of marriage, and her other brother, Teddy, has a four-year-old daughter who’s the light of his life. Mia doesn’t offer up any information about the mother, so I decide it’s best not to ask any questions.

After one too many wines, Mia turns in for the night. Although the conversation felt okay, it was clear Mia wasn’t overly comfortable. I can’t say I blame her; I can’t imagine how I’d react if the roles were reversed. As night falls and the chill air begins to seep into our skin, Harper and I relocate to the lounge room, swapping wine for hot chocolate.?

“I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Mia because she gets a little defensive.” Harper pulls her feet up beneath the throw blanket draped over us. “Have you ever seen the headlines about the Oxford Street Playboy?”

Headlines? Oxford Street who?

“Uh, n-no, I haven’t.” I rub a hand across my forehead, smoothing the frown lines my confusion has created. “Care to elaborate?”

She lets out a sigh, her face taking on a sombre expression. “I suppose you would’ve known who he was that first day if you had. Carter has been known as the Oxford Street Playboy across most of the tabloids in the UK for a few years now.”

It all makes sense now. Of course he was too good to be a true gentleman. And far too skilled.

“That sounds unfortunate for him.” Trust me to make light of any situation if it makes me feel slightly more comfortable. “That doesn’t change anything, though.”

There’s a softness in Harper’s expression, one that isn’t seen often. “The man went down on you, so I imagine I’m right in assuming there’s something there? Perhaps more than you’ve let on?”

A sharp “ha!” bursts from me, startling Harper.

“Harps, you do not need to worry about me. My heart isn’t easily touched.”

“It’s too bad your vagina isn’t as untouchable as your heart.”

“Ouch.” I throw a hand over my heart with a dramatic flair that would rival Pumbaa’s iconic “Oh, the shame!” scene.

We break into a fit of quiet giggles.

Wiping a tear of laughter away, Harper gently places a hand on my blanketed knee and squeezes.?

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Lars.” She gives me a small smile. “If the media is to be trusted, he’s not exactly the relationship type.”

Harper and Mia have been friends for over ten years, so of course she’s seen more of Carter than what the papers show. But despite that, she’s still warning me to be careful.?

I pay little attention to the way something deflates inside me at that fact.

I take her hand in mine and return the squeeze, reassuring her.

“Harper, listen to me carefully. Whilst this may not be a one-time thing?—"

“I beg your pardon?” Harper glares at me with bewilderment.

“Did I forget to mention the part where Mr Dar—fuck, Carter—told me we weren’t finished yet when we were rudely interrupted? Oops.”

“Big oops!”?

I wave a hand casually. “Regardless. It’s only physical, whateverthis thingis between us. He might now be the relationship type, but then neither am I. At least not right now. Honestly, the less serious, the better. Plus, he’s now my boss, remember?”

Harper’s shoulders sag, her hand still wrapped beneath mine. “I just remember what it was like going through the heartbreak with you when that absolute wanker fucked you over.”

Oh, but of course, my ex. What a piece of work he was, and probably still is.

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