Page 21 of An American in London

We lock eyes but neither of us speaks. Eventually, Ben looks away.

“Nick has accepted the invitation for me and my fiancée,” Ben says. “The plan is to arrive on Friday evening and leave on Sunday night.”

Two entire days? I’m not sure I can fake anything for that long.

Ben must see the concern written on my face. “The other thing about you being American is if something goes wrong, we can put it down to your nationality.”

I sit back in my chair. “Because all Americans are idiots?”

“No, because there’s an inevitable cultural divide. It’s easier to pass off little inconsistencies as misunderstandings when we’re from different countries. That means there’s not so much pressure to get everything perfect. And if we say we’ve only been together for three months, that gives us some wiggle room too.”

Wiggle room? I start saying “wiggle” over and over in my head. It just seems such a strange word to come out of sensible Ben’s mouth. “No one’s going to believe we’re already engaged after three months.”

“Of course they will. When you know, you know. I decided to put my bachelor years behind me when we met because I knew instantly you’re the woman I want to build a life with. You’re the one I want to be the mother of my children. I’m a man who’s used to seeing value and locking that value down as soon as possible. They’ll understand that.”

“Wow,” I say, feeling less than charmed by his cool, calculated assessment of marriage. “I feel like a pile of stock certificates.”

“It’s an analogy, Tuesday. I’m sure you have them in America.”

Jeez, he’s brusque. Butsopretty.

Melanie was right when she said I’d do this for free if I’d met him under more ... romantic conditions. And if I hadn’t just had my heart ripped out by my college sweetheart. I need to stop overthinking and just say yes already.

“So when do we start?” I ask.

“I’ll call you in forty-eight hours.”

“But I’ve made my decision.”

“I want you to be sure you’re getting what you need from this.”

I’ve said yes. What more does he want?

“I’m good. When do we start?” I ask, a little more forcefully.

He holds my gaze for a second, two, three, then says, “Now.” He folds the manila file and stands. “I’ll have my lawyers draft a contract by lunchtime. Then you can be certain you’ll get your money. I have a car waiting outside. Let’s go.”

Chapter Nine

This month is going a little differently from the last. First, I’m on a different continent and in a different time zone. And second, instead of being Jed’s fiancée, I’m shopping for engagement rings with a British guy I mistook for a movie star just a week ago.

“Wait, this is Bond Street?” I ask as I finally spot a street sign. One of the weirdest things about London is it’s hit or miss whether or not you find a street sign, and I don’t get it. Why don’t the British like to know where they are? “This is where Tiffany is!” Daniel De Luca only made one Christmas movie, and it has some pivotal scenes on Bond Street, including a proposal in front of Tiffany.

“I believe it is,” Ben says. “But that’s not where we’re headed.”

I told Ben to get any old ring, but he insisted we come and pick one out. He said the duke would never believe he’s romantic enough to have picked it out himself, so we might as well pick one out together. Plus, the experience gives us a genuine story of a shared experience. Win-win.

“Will we have time to get a pictureoutsideTiffany’s?” I ask. Multitasking at its best: enjoying some DDL time while pocketing thirty grand.

Ben doesn’t respond. His driver pulls to a stop at the side of the road.

He gets out and holds the door open for me. I slide across the seat and can see the Tiffany-blue flags a few buildings up. “I gotta get a picture,” I say. “I’ll just be a second.”

Before Ben has a chance to stop me, I chase up the street and tip my head back as I take in the imposing black brick building. It’s so different from the New York City Tiffany, but somehow this one looks like the flagship. It’s such a perfect fit—traditional and beautiful and part of history.

I spin around and find the exact spot Daniel De Luca proposed to Rachel Joshi. The setup was a little cheesy, but Daniel always has a way of pulling it back from full fondue. It must be the British sense of humor or something. Maybe it’s just his accent. I shuffle to my right a little and bring up the camera on my phone. Even if it was years ago, I’ve seenThe 14 Days of Christmasat least a hundred times, so I know the exact angle I’m trying to get.

“You want me to take it for you?”

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