Page 50 of Holiday Romance
“Because I’m not an idiot? Leaving without a plan would be a really dumb move financially. And even with one, it could be a huge mistake. It’s going to take a few years.”
“A few…” He looks incredulous. “You’ve just admitted you’re unhappy and now you’re going to stay like that for, what? Five more years?”
“Notfive,” I mutter. Maybe three.
“Mistakes can be fixed,” Andrew continues.
“They can also be prevented.”
“I can’t believe you’re already talking yourself out of this.”
“I’m not!”
“You are. You’re—”
“Excusez-moi?”
It’s at that moment our waiter chooses to appear, his pen poised over his notepad with that stressed air all service staff at Christmas have. Yet another reason to dislike the holidays.
The man hesitates, taking in our matching glares as we turn toward him. “Encore une petite minute?”
My eyes dart back to Andrew who waits a beat before pushing his menu to the side. “You pick,” he says to me. “I trust you.”
“Even if I order you the sausage?”
He smiles a little at that. A temporary truce. “I trust you not to order me the sausage,” he amends, and lets me take charge, watching me thoughtfully as the rain falls in sheets outside.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I order him the pasta, followed by the mousse, and we spend the meal going over the plan to get to Dublin and not talking about mistakes or jobs or anything beyond what the next twenty-four hours will bring.
We head back to the airport with hours to spare and are the first people at our gate. Andrew doesn’t even risk going to the restroom, waiting until we board despite the fact he grows visibly uncomfortable as the minutes tick by. We take off five minutes early and there’s hardly any wait for his suitcase on the other side. Everything goes smoothly.
And doesn’t that just make me suspicious as hell?
“It’s like youwantsomething to go wrong,” Andrew says as I double-check the sailing for tomorrow one final time.
“We should make a backup plan.”
“This isour backup plan. We’re here. The tickets are booked. The weather looks good. We’ll be fine.”
“The train could break down.”
“Then we’ll get a bus,” he says firmly, and I nod despite the niggling feeling in my gut.
“Where does your cousin live anyway?” I ask as we make our way through the crowds outside Heathrow airport.
“He moves around a lot. But he’s in Notting Hill right now.”
I perk up at that. “Like the movie?”
“Exactly like the movie. You’ve been to London before, right?”
“Mam took my sister and me for a weekend when we were younger. We almost got separated on the Tube and I’ve never recovered from it.”
“Sothat’swhy you scream every time you take the L.”
I nod. “People think it’s the screeching sound of the tracks, but no.”
