Page 48 of An American in London

“We all have layers, Tuesday.”

My heart booms in my chest as he says my name. I don’t know why, but hearing it from him feels like a revelation every time.

“You think I have secret layers?” I ask.

“Maybe. Or maybe they’ve been buried awhile so you’ve ... forgotten them.”

He looks through me, right into my soul, and I entertain the notion that he’s right. Maybe I’ve suppressed a romantic side of myself—the side I got from my mom. After she died, I wanted so desperately to move on from the pain of losing her, I pushed away things that reminded me of her. Maybe I pushed away more than I realized.

London is bringing out the romantic, sunset-seeking, Daniel-De-Luca-loving part of me. The me I was before I lost my mom. Ben sees it—that version of me. The wholeness of me, the parts that have been dormant for a very long time.

The duchess finishes the messages she’s sending and turns back to us. “Right, let me show you the exact spot they had all the cameras set up,” the duchess says. “I used to bring everyone Battenburg and homemade digestives just so I had an excuse to see what was going on. Bythe end, I had my own chair. They even had my name put on it.” She lets out a throaty laugh. “It was such fun. Although I’m not sure the duke has ever forgiven me for spending so much time away from him. He likes me close by.”

Her phone rings and she pulls it from her pocket. We all come to a stop. “Speaking of. I have to get this, but it’s just over there—by the tree with the stone at the base.”

I pull Ben over to the pear tree the duchess indicated. “They left it.” I drop his hand and crouch down to read the inscription. It’s exactly the same as the one in the movie. “It’s a dedication to his beloved sister who died in childbirth, who loved the orchard when she was alive. When Avani Tudor first moves into the house as duchess, she finds it. The love the duke has for his sister makes the duchess finally see he isn’t the monster everyone thinks he is. Oh, Ben, it’s like it’s real.”

It’s beautiful. A smooth stone, weathered with lichen and time. The words have started to fade. It’s just a name and the dedication,She loved it here, so I love it here.

In a second, I’m transported back to a fall afternoon with my mom. We’d stopped for gas, and someone mentioned the trees over by Trent’s farm were looking pretty. We drove over and kept following the fall colors until we were fifty miles away, then watched the sun go down, eating gas-station beef jerky and sitting on the hood of the car. It’s stupid, but this trip has brought every memory of my mom racing back in a kaleidoscope of color. I miss her so much.

She would have loved to be here. I would give anything to have her back, just for this moment. And maybe a few moments more. Even though it’s been years, it feels like I need her more than ever.

She’d be able to reassure me I could find plenty of joy in life without knowing what my future holds, without the job or Jed or the fancy apartment. None of that stuff would have mattered to her. She’d hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. Right now, that’s all I need.

“We’re talking about the duke and duchess in the film?” he asks.

I pull the corner of my sweater over my thumb and dab at my eyes. “Yes.”

“Are you okay?” Ben pulls at my elbow, but I shake him off.

“I just need a minute.”

But instead of pretending I’m not crying and backing off, he crouches down beside me. “Are you upset about the sister dying?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, you’ve found it. Good.” The duchess rushes over, and we both get to our feet. “I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you. George has got himself into a tizzy, and I need to go back to the house.”

“No problem at all. Is there anything we can do to help?” Ben asks, saving me from having to speak.

She waves her hand in the air. “Nothing at all. See you inside for lunch at twelve thirty. Make sure you visit the walled garden. It’s on the other side of the house.”

We stand side by side in silence as we watch the duchess head back to the house.

I pull in a breath and steady myself, refocusing on the here and now. “This is a bit of a wasted morning for you,” I say. “No duke or duchess to impress. We can go back to the house if you want to catch up on emails or something?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, ignoring my deflection completely. “Is it your mum?”

“I’m fine,” I say with a shrug. “I just ... I just miss her sometimes.”

His large hand smooths up my back even though there’s no one to notice. “I’m sorry.”

“She died a long time ago, but she would have gotten such a kick out of me being here. Even the bit where I’m fake-engaged to a hot, moody Brit. She’d think it was a huge adventure.” My voice wobbles as I finish my sentence. Ben steps in front of me and envelops me in a hug. Instead of pushing him away and telling him I’m fine, I sink into him and just let myself breathe.

He smells delicious, like wet pine forests and cinnamon. He feels safe, like a big old oak tree that’s been here for three hundred years. How can I feel so comfortable with him when I’ve known him just a few days?

“I’m usually stronger than this,” I say, needing him to know I’m not always such a crybaby.

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