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“I’m sorry.” My voice is just above a whisper, and my heart is beating wildly in my chest. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Whatever it was, I want you to keep thinking it.” A smile tilts one corner of her mouth, and she places a hand on my shoulder, leans over, and presses another damp, lingering kiss to my cheek.

She reaches into her bag and rifles for her keys, pulling out books, scarves, a tablet, and a small bag before she finds them.

“Thank you again for bringing me home.”

“Let me see you up.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and run around to open her door before she can say no.

She hands me my jacket, which I draped over her when we left the event. “No, it’s okay. I’m really tired, and it’s late. But thank you so much. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

She walks with a speed that belies her injuries and disappears down the path that leads to the back of the pub.

I wait until I see a light come on in the upstairs window before I drive off. I haven’t had a crush since I was in high school and fell for my chemistry teacher. But somewhere between seeing her for the first time and tonight, I’ve managed it again.

CHAPTER 6

KEEN VIRTUE

Jules

It’s wellafter supper time when I turn onto the top of my road. I’m still tired. The aspirin I took this afternoon is wearing off, and my nose is starting to throb. And after walking all the way home, I’m starving. But the prospect of eating alone only makes me slow my steps.

I left my iPad in his car and hoped that he’d see it and run after me and we’d kiss in the rain but not feel a single dreary drop while we got lost in each other’s lips.

When that didn’t happen, I spent the entire day at work and the Tube ride home imagining that he would be waiting outside the flat for me. He’d have my iPad tucked under one of his anatomically perfect arms and pull me into his lap for a kiss. And as soon as our lips touched, it would start raining and we’d sit kissing and getting soaked.

He wasn’t there. It didn’t rain.

But three days later, I’ve accepted he’s not going to come seek me out. I just hope he brings it to the pub with him on Sunday when he comes in for his regular afternoon meal.

But as I approach the small gate that leads to the residents’ entrance, I see someone leaning against the gate, and I quicken my steps, only to have my foolish romantic heart sag when I get closer and can make out that it’s Dominic.

“Evening, Dom.”

“Good evening. You hungry?” he calls and waves me over.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He frowns. “Why d’long face, child? Your nose bothering you?”

I shake my head and attempt a smile. “Long day.”

“I’ll have one of the boys run dinner up to you, okay?”

My heart lifts for the first time today. I press a kiss to his weathered cheek and thank whatever good luck brought him into my life. He and his wife, Jodi, own the Effra. He runs the back office, she runs the kitchen. They’re not quite old enough to be my parents, but they seem to like taking care of me. So I let them.

When I first arrived in London in 2011 to complete my A-levels, I rented a student house in Kensington Church Street, close to my college. The small savings account that my father set up and deposited into every month until the week he died had more money in it than it should, and I didn’t know how he’d managed to save it all. But there was enough in the account to pay the exorbitant fees that came with admission and board at what my research said was the best A levels program in London a thousand times over.

I’d never seen so much money in one place, and I was afraid to spend it. He told me the account was to pay for university, and if there was any left, a down payment on a house when I got married. What I found in that account was enough to buy a few houses if I wanted.

I didn’t think I’d ever marry the way he hoped. So I planned to use it for the other things he wanted me to. I paid for the besteducation money could buy and prepaid my rent for the year. And then determined I wouldn’t touch another cent unless I had to.

One of my classmates was a barkeep at a place in Kensington and got me a job there, too.

I’d never even opened a bottle of wine at that point, so I spent a few days practicing pulling corks and watched YouTube videos on pulling the perfect pint and mixing the staple cocktails served at pubs. I worked there until Conrad and I crossed paths again.

When he disappeared with what he thought were my lifesavings, I decided that a neighborhood off the beaten path where I could blend in was a better fit for me than the high-traffic tourist trap of Kensington.