Page 33 of Love Affair in London (Once Again #12)

T ourists, workers, and people in business attire crowded the pub, but they found a recently vacated table.

Music Jared couldn't quite make out competed with voices, laughter, and the general shouting of customers trying to be heard over one another. He didn’t mind; it gave him an excuse to lean closer to Piper to catch her words and to breathe in her sweet scent.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize it’d be so loud in here.”

“I’m fine. It’s a pub, end of the workday. What more can we expect?”

A waitress with an armful of mugs zoomed by, slapping a menu onto their table and shouting, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Men and women lined the long wooden bar, standing or perched on stools.

Six or more crammed into tables meant for four.

A group of obvious tourists—shorts, T-shirts, and sunburns giving them away—rose from a nearby table, abandoning their empty mugs, as though the noise had driven them out.

Jared didn’t care about the commotion. Being with Piper made up for it.

He slid his chair closer so she could read the menu to him. “Do you want shepherd’s pie or cottage pie?” she asked.

“What’s the difference?”

“Du-uh. Shepherd’s pie is lamb. Cottage pie is beef.” With a grin, she added, “We could get one of each and share—unless you hate lamb.”

“I don’t have lamb often, but I don’t hate it. Let’s do both.” He liked the idea of sharing with her.

When the waitress returned, they gave her their order, adding a pint of ale for him and prosecco for her. Alone again, he asked, “Is bubbly always your drink of choice?”

“I’ve been known to have a margarita or a daiquiri.” Her eyes seemed to twinkle, even in the low lighting. “Or Chinese beer if I’m eating Chinese food. But I like champagne best.”

“What about wine?”

“I used to enjoy a good chardonnay—not so much red. But now, I prefer the bubbly.”

Considering the crowd, the waitress returned quickly with their drinks. They toasted without words, the gentle clink of glass on glass sealing the moment. The ale was good, as it should be in an English pub.

Huddled together, making conversation easier in the din, Piper cupped her ear. “I’m getting used to the noise level. I can almost hear you now.”

He draped an arm over her shoulders, his lips near her cheek. “It’s my excuse to keep you close.”

They talked about everything and nothing—her day at Hampton Court and Kew Gardens, his day of meetings. When she asked about his presentation, he replied, “Today was the short one. Tomorrow is my big one.”

“Shouldn’t you be reviewing what you want to say?”

“I’d rather have dinner with you. And I know this stuff like the back of my hand. It’s my product, my baby.”

“I was always nervous speaking in front of a crowd,” she admitted. “A small group is fine, but an entire roomful?” She shrugged, letting the gesture finish the thought.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that about you. You talk so easily.”

“I like people. Groups are different. Once I get going, I’m fine. It’s just those jitters the night before.”

Their food arrived—two steaming bowls topped with mashed potatoes, gravy bubbling through at the edges.

“Which is which?” she asked the waitress.

The woman smiled mischievously. “It’s a surprise.” And she was gone.

Piper smiled as she grabbed her spoon. “I guess we’ll have to taste-test.”

The waitress had, of course, placed the correct pie in front of each of them. The cottage pie was a delicious mix of tender beef cubes, rich gravy, peas, and carrots, topped with creamy mashed potatoes.

Piper pushed a bottle toward him. “Try a little HP Sauce for some spice.”

“What’s HP Sauce?” he asked.

“It’s like a steak sauce.” She grinned. “But way better than what we have at home.”

He poured a bit onto the beef and scooped it up with mashed potatoes. It was tangy, spicy, and slightly sweet. “That is good.” Then he teased, “Why aren’t you putting it on your shepherd’s pie?”

“The lamb is better on its own. You want to try?”

She offered him her bowl, and he took a spoonful. The lamb had a subtle, earthy flavor, distinct from the beef. “I like that too. But you’re right—it doesn’t need the sauce.”

He held out a bite of his own for her to taste. She didn’t hesitate, letting him feed her, her eyes closed as she savored. “Oh, that’s very good.” She gave him two thumbs up.

They fed each other spoonfuls, oohing and aahing dramatically. But it was good. Being with her was good.

The waitress arrived just as they finished. They declined dessert and coffee, then split the bill, Piper insisting. Outside, she sighed. “My ears definitely needed a break. Let’s grab coffee and sit by the river.”

They wandered through a complex of office buildings near the river and found a coffee house still open on the ground floor of one.

At a table outside, Jared settled into the bench seat.

Piper slid in beside him, snugging her sweater around her against the cool evening air.

He draped his arm along the back of the seat, gently playing with the ends of her hair.

They’d barely gotten comfortable when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “It’s my son. Mind if I take it?”

Sliding away from him on the bench so she’d be out of view, she gestured for him to go ahead.

He swiped to accept the video call, and Liam’s face filled the small screen. “How ya doing, buddy?” Jared asked.

Calls from Liam were rare, especially when Jared was away. His son usually stuck to a stream of text messages, if he was in contact at all. Liam wasted no time launching into a dramatic preamble. “Okay, Dad, don’t freak out, or, like, go ballistic or whatever.”

Jared smirked, leaning back. “With an opening like that, I’m almost guaranteed to freak out,” he drawled.

Teenage girls had the reputation for being drama queens, but in Jared’s family, thirteen-year-old Liam held the crown. Piper raised her coffee to her lips, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Okay, fine, Dad, if you freak out, that’s on me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t.”

Liam finally spilled. “Mom’s seeing someone. Like, a guy. A boyfriend. For like a couple of months.”

Jared blinked, surprised. Not that Erica was dating—she had every right to—but that she hadn’t mentioned it to him. They were on good terms, after all. Still, he kept his tone neutral. “That’s okay, buddy.”

“Me and Scarlett should have told you. But, you know.” He shrugged the rest of his thought.

Jared understood. The kids hadn’t wanted to step into the middle of their parents’ crap. “I’m not upset about your mom dating, if that’s what worries you.”

On the screen, Liam rolled his eyes so dramatically Jared was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head. “Dad. You just don’t get it.”

“Then help me out here. Tell me what I’m missing.”

“Gawd,” Liam groaned, dragging the word out like a sigh. “The guy’s a total douche.”

Piper nearly choked on her coffee, hiding her laugh behind her hand. Jared stifled a smile of his own, wondering if he should reprimand Liam for the language. The boy had picked it up from Kick-Ass , a movie Jared reluctantly let him watch. “What makes you say that?”

Liam launched into a litany of grievances.

“When Mom’s out of the room, he orders me around—like, no ‘please’ or ‘thank you.’ He just expects me to do stuff.

And he’s always setting these little word traps, so I end up looking like the bad guy.

He’s such a narcissist,” Liam declared, diagnosing the man with the world’s worst character flaw.

Jared tilted his head. “A narcissist, huh?”

“Yeah, like, for real. And when Mom comes back, he’s all nice and fake again. So, like, maybe he’s got DID or something.”

“What’s DID?”

Liam huffed. “Dissociative identity disorder. Split personality. Multiple personalities. Du-uh.”

Jared held back a laugh. Liam’s flair for the dramatic often tempted him to crack a smile, but he didn’t want to minimize his son’s concerns. “Have you talked to your mom about it?”

Liam’s voice shot up an octave. “Are you kidding? How am I supposed to talk to her about it when she actually likes the guy?”

“What does your sister think?” Though Scarlett was two years older, the siblings were close, especially since the divorce.

“She called him a dickhead.”

Jared suppressed a groan, unsure which term— douche or dickhead —was worse to use in front of Piper. Though apparently engrossed in her coffee, she couldn’t help but hear.

Liam got to the reason for his call. “Dad, you need to talk to Mom.”

Jared snorted. “Your mom won’t appreciate me meddling in her personal life.”

Liam’s words rushed out of him. “But someone’s got to do it. She won’t listen to me or Scarlett. You’re the only one she might actually take seriously.”

Jared rubbed his temple. “If she likes this guy, Liam, she won’t listen to me either.”

“Then tell her she shouldn’t date until I’m, like, sixteen or something!”

This time, Jared couldn’t help but laugh. “And how do you think that’ll go over?”

Onscreen, Liam’s shoulders drooped in defeat. “I know. She likes him. She probably won’t listen to anyone.” Desperation edged his voice. “What am I supposed to do, Dad?”

Jared sighed. “Just try to get along with him for now, buddy. You can hang in there until I get home, right? We’ll talk about it more then, and maybe things won’t seem so bad.”

Liam groaned. “But Dad, they are so bad.”

Jared chuckled, shaking his head. “If it gets worse, call me. Otherwise, we’ll figure it out when I’m back.”

Liam nodded reluctantly. “Okay. I guess I feel better after telling you.”

“Good. Hey, shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

Liam shook his head. “Free period.” He glanced away, suddenly distracted. “Oh, gotta go. I see Jenny crossing the quad.”

“Jenny, huh?” Jared taunted, but Liam had already hung up.

Jared set the phone down, glancing at Piper.

She finally let out the laugh she’d been holding in. “Sounds like a lot to unpack.”