Page 50 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

I shrugged, squinting as I glanced at the enormous Ferris wheel from our vantage point on Westminster Bridge. “It was…fine. It was on a date with someone who ended up being a good friend.”

“Becca?”

“No. Her name’s Angie. Bec set us up, then followed us with Maxine and her boyfriend, Tod. Those four idiots trailed us all over town. We knew what they were doing, so we made it good. We walked fast, ate McDonald’s, sipped gin out of Starbucks to-go cups, and topped off the night on the Eye. We didn’t even make it to the top before Angie went pale. I had to call them over to help when she ralphed—” I pointed to a nearby empty bench and chuckled. “Right there. It was a ridiculous night. I kept telling myself that I should be mad, but it was so over the top, it was funny. We’ve all been pretty tight ever since. And we still laugh about that night.”

Theo smiled. “You’re lucky to have close friends on two continents. You’ll never be lonely.”

He tugged my elbow, pulling me toward the ticket queue. I was too busy protesting all the reasons I didn’t want to go on the damn tourist trap to ask what he meant about being lonely. Was he lonely in San Fran? He didn’t talk about specific friends and he didn’t live near family either. Did he have good people in his corner looking out for him?

But I let those questions slide. I bought tickets for a glorified amusement park ride instead and slipped my arm over his shoulders, pointing out familiar sights to keep his mind off his nerves as we climbed into the clouds on a drizzly gray day.

I kissed him at the top of that stupid wheel, pouring everything I had into the connection, chuckling when he swayed like a willow tree and looked at me as though I might be strong enough to hold this metal ring in the air should it fall around us. And you know, at that moment, I definitelyfeltthat strong.

The next day, not so much.

Sightseeing was exhausting.We schlepped umbrellas we only used once or twice and walked for miles, popping into countless museums, a few churches, and the Tower of London. We stopped for lunch at an Indian place I loved in Piccadilly, shopped on Regent Street, and stopped for tea so often that I teased him that he was turning British on me.

We eventually made our way back to my place, opened a bottle of wine, and sat facing each other on opposite ends of my leather sofa with our feet tangled, going over the finer points of the day.

“Did you hear that kid burp in The National Gallery? That was a frat-worthy belch,” I commented, swirling my wine lazily in my glass.

“Rude. His poor mother was mortified,” Theo admonished, kicking my foot.

I snickered. “I used to do stupid things like that too. My poor mom would go bonkers and tell my teenage self that girls didn’t like rude boys who burped.”

Theo grinned. “Did other teenage boys approve?”

“Of course, but belching wasn’t my go-to mating ritual.”

“Good to know,” he snorted. “Did your parents know you were bi then?”

“No, I didn’t come out till I was…” I paused to do the math. “Twenty-five.”

“Oh. I’m surprised you waited so long.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully. “Were you worried they’d disapprove?”

“My parents? Oh, hell no. They’re very chill, very accepting. Honestly, I think Mom would have loved to plan a big gay wedding.” I swung my legs off the sofa and was about to stand when I noticed he’d gone still. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, but you said, ‘would have loved.’ Were you ever close to walking down the aisle?”

I studied the burgundy liquid before draining my glass and setting it on the coffee table. “No, I don’t think so.”

Silence.

It was as if he knew I was lying and was waiting for me to clarify my need to twist reality.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

And now I felt like an ass. I heaved a sigh and tried to formulate a nicer way to tell him I didn’t like talking about that chapter in my life.

But I heard myself blab, “I had a secret boyfriend for seven years. I thought he was the one.”

Theo’s eyes widened till they were the size of small saucers. “Oh. Okay.”

“Technically, five years were a secret, and the last two were an experiment in coming out that ultimately failed. I was tired of hiding and pretending to be roommates and great friends who did everything together.” I gave a wan smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes. “I wanted something he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Meh. Don’t be. It was over seven years ago. I want to say I understood his reasons for ending things, but…I was pretty devastated and—”