Page 22

Angelique

I stare up at the weathered sign of Sugar & Son, the ice cream shop in Marlow that I used to visit with my father before he died.

The sun-faded letters, the chipped edges of the hand-painted board…

it hasn’t changed. Not even a little. It’s like the place has been held in time, waiting for me to come back.

My throat tightens, heat pressing behind my eyes as memories rush in—my father's laughter echoing through the small shop, the way he used to pretend to taste test my cone and then steal a bite. I wish he was still here.

“You wanted to go on a trip to Marlow… for ice cream?” I ask, my voice catching slightly as I swallow the knot forming in my throat.

“This is just the first stop.” Reign rubs the back of his neck and follows my gaze up to the sign. “We can leave. If you’re not up to trying this place out.”

“No,” I say, too quickly. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go.”

I push open the door before I can change my mind, and a soft chime rings out as we enter, the smell of sugar and waffle cones wrapping around me. It’s too much and not enough all at once. My skin prickles with unease at being in such a familiar place after so long.

Reign steps in and stands beside me at the counter, both of us staring up at the hand-written chalk menu. I already know what I want—double chocolate ice cream in a chocolate cone. My usual. My father used to joke that it was the one constant in the universe.

“Do you know what you’re getting?” I ask, my voice low, trying to sound casual.

Before he can answer, a man walks out from the back, wiping his hands on a towel. He stops mid-step when he sees me, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features. He blinks hard, then rubs his eyes before blinking again.

“Is that really you, Angelique?” Phil, the shop owner, asks while pulling off his apron and hurrying around the counter.

I brace myself as he reaches for my shoulders and pulls me into a hug before I can step back. My whole body goes rigid. My skin crawling with the contact, the sensation overwhelming and suffocating.

I hate how common touch is—how no one even thinks twice about it. A pat on the back, a hand on your arm, a friendly hug. It feels like a violation now. But to the world, it’s just a normal gesture.

I glance at Reign, noticing how he’s watching the interaction closely, brow furrowed, posture subtly shifting. When his eyes find mine and he sees the discomfort there, he clears his throat loudly.

Phil steps back immediately, startled. “Sorry,” he mumbles, tossing a glance between us before retreating behind the counter and slipping his apron back on. But his gaze keeps drifting to me like he still doesn’t believe I’m real .

“What can I get you, sir?” he asks Reign, but Reign looks at me.

“Ladies first,” he says, gesturing with his hand.

I step forward. “Uh, I’ll have the double?—”

“Double chocolate on a chocolate waffle cone?” Phil finishes for me, his smile stretching wider.

I nod, offering a small smile as Reign watches the exchange, his jaw ticking as his eyes jump between us.

“I’ll get the cookies and cream,” Reign says after a beat. “In a cup.”

Phil rings us up, and Reign pays for us both.

Then we step aside and watch as Phil scoops our orders, his movements still practiced and fast. I want to ask him how his son is doing, but I can't bring myself to start up a conversation with him today.

I wasn't prepared to come to this place, of all places.

He hands Reign his cup first, then turns to me, cone in hand. “I haven’t seen you since—” He stops short, the sentence dying on his lips.

Since my father’s funeral.

Phil clears his throat. “Well, it’s been a while,” he says instead. “Are you back in Marlow now?”

I nod. “I just moved back from New York.”

A broad grin spreads across his face. “Good. It’s nice to see a familiar face again. I hope you’ll stop by more often.”

I give a polite smile, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes, and glance at Reign again. He catches my silent plea right away and moves to the door, opening it for me.

“Let’s go,” he says.

I turn back to Phil, offering a quick wave before stepping outside, the cool air hitting my hot skin. The shop door closes behind us, and I exhale slowly, the tightness in my chest loosening just a little .

“You’ve been here before?” Reign asks after a moment.

I lick my cone, the chocolate familiar and rich, before I nod. “My dad used to bring me almost every week.”

Reign doesn’t respond and when I look up, I realize he’s stopped walking.

I turn back to face him. “What's wrong?”

He’s staring at me, his expression unreadable. “That place was special to you and your dad?”

I shrug, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah. I guess it was.”

He looks at me a moment longer, then nods once, a subtle dip of his chin, as he starts walking again, leaving me to catch up.

I look over at him as we walk. “Where are we going now?”

“To watch the swans.”

I blink. “The swans?”

He glances sideways. “Swans move the way you need to imitate for the ballet—controlled, but not stiff. I figured watching them might help you get it right.”

A few minutes later, we find a quiet patch of grass near the river, tucked slightly away from the walking path.

A family with twin toddlers and a golden retriever passes behind us, but otherwise, it’s just the soft sounds of water, the rustling of trees, and the slow, graceful drift of white swans gliding across the Thames.

We sit down, the grass cold through my jeans, so I tuck my knees up to my chest and hold my cone with both hands. Reign stretches his legs out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other, and begins eating his cup of ice cream.

He finishes the whole thing in record time, and when I glance over at him mid-lick, his eyes are tracking my mouth as I swipe my tongue across the side of the cone to keep it from dripping.

He licks his bottom lip once, slow, then his heated gaze jumps up to meet mine, a thousand words behind the way he looks at me, and I freeze, pulse stuttering.

The air feels charged between us and I’m positive even the swans have noticed, so I quickly look away and focus on my cone, finishing it in a few fast bites before the tension makes me explode.

He looks back at the water, his voice quiet when he speaks again. “Why don’t you like being touched?”

I blink, surprised, and I stare at the grass in front of me as my fingers curl into the fabric of my jeans.

“It just… it feels invasive,” I say eventually.

He’s quiet for a while before speaking. “But you let Lando touch you.”

I glance at him. “That’s different.”

He says nothing, but I can see the question in his eyes.

“I’m used to him,” I explain further. “I know him. We’ve been around each other forever. He’s… safe.”

Reign nods once, like he’s storing the information away. Then he turns fully toward me, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on mine.

“You used to let me touch you.” The words leave his mouth with ease, and I feel my mouth drop open slightly.

“I…that…” I’m at a loss for words as my face grows warm. “That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before life happened,” I say, dropping his gaze and turning my attention back to the swans. “Before my dad died, before I moved to New York, and before?—”

“Before whatever happened in New York, happened,” he finishes for me.

I look at him again now, holding his gaze. “Exactly,” I reply.

His eyes drop to my mouth for a moment, and then he looks back up at me before nodding.

“I get you don’t want to tell me, at least not now, but I hope you remember I was one of the safe people in your life.”

“You ghosted me,” I say as I stare out at the river, not wanting him to see any of the emotions warring inside of me. “I called and texted you for over a year, and not once did you pick up or reply.”

He’s quiet now, but I can see from my peripheral that he’s staring at me, so I continue.

“We spent every single day together for an entire summer.” I laugh to myself at how ridiculously pathetic I sound. “We were almost something, and then suddenly we were nothing.”

“Angel…”

“The worst part is that I checked my phone for months. Every single notification that I got, I’d hoped it was from you, but it never was. So, yes, maybe once upon a time I thought you were a safe person, but I realized I was wrong about you when you decided to leave me when I needed you most.”

The swans float nearby, one extending its wings out fully, the move smooth and graceful. It raises its wing high enough that my attention snags on the Marlow Bridge behind it instead.

Would I die if I jumped from that high up? Would it hurt or would I be numb to the pain?

I visualize myself standing at the edge, staring down at the swans from that perspective instead, arms held out as I slowly tip forward and? —

“Let me make it up to you,” he says, cutting into my thoughts.

When I look at him, I can see regret written all over his face. I want to ask him why he did it, why he abandoned me, but maybe now isn’t the right time.

“And how do you plan to do that?” I ask instead.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner.”