Page 26 of Tender Offer (Chance at Love #3)

Madison

“ I cannot believe you didn’t pack me in your carry-on. Look at that view!”

I pan my phone around Westminster from the open living area.

Tammi’s eyes grow two sizes at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the panoramic backdrop with Westminster Abbey and Big Ben in the distance.

This high up, I’m on top of the world. A giant would have to scale the building to reach me, and he wouldn’t need to duck inside.

The height alone in this apartment is wild.

“This is sick.”

Tammi kisses her teeth. “Sick is Smokey Jr., sneezing with an uncovered mouth and snot hanging like an ornament. This is luxury.”

It hasn’t hit me that I’m in London for three months. My common sense is still in customs at JFK, waiting to get over jet lag and tell me I’m making a mistake. I don’t give clients this much of my time, but I folded at Preston’s proposal.

Wonder why.

I got cold feet over the weekend. A month ago, I was cursing his existence when it collided with mine at full force. Now, we text all the time. It was a plot twist I never saw coming, one that frayed my resolution to never speak to him again.

Preston is more than an attractive face with a mouthwatering body to match. Underneath his charm is a calming presence, pulling me to him. Scabs from the hurt I’ve carried fall away with each message we send.

Did I make the wrong choice coming here?

Tammi sits on the other end of the video call, a world away. After Kojo told me to wave my ass at Buckingham Palace like a Union Jack flag, I called her for advice. She was my last line of defense who did the opposite of encourage me to keep my butt at home.

After a lecture longer than a Sunday sermon about why I waited so long to tell her about Preston, I spilled it all—Ravenous included. Tammi asked every question under the sun, for “praying purposes,” while I stared at two empty suitcases.

I expected her to hold a grudge on my behalf. To my surprise, she challenged me to focus on who Preston is today, not who he was fifteen years ago.

His father is a different story. If I never see him again, it would be too soon.

So here I am. A five-hour time difference away from my life, in a penthouse that costs more than a small village, second-guessing for the sixth time whether or not I should be on this continent.

Jewel got so annoyed with my constant texting, she told me she’d respond next month. After I “got myself together” and stopped stressing. Her words.

“Want to talk about it?” Black curls press to Tammi’s chocolate brown cheeks under an ivory winter hat.

“You’ve said enough.” I roll my eyes and continue with the virtual house tour.

“See him with fresh eyes and an open heart” is what she told me after I chickened out.

Every excuse I threw popped me in the forehead when Tammi tossed it back in my face.

The fact that Preston is spouse-free won her over.

So did his obvious attempts to squeeze himself back into my life.

She thought the closet dinner was adorable, which had me staring at my phone sideways.

“We all change, Madison. Sometimes for the better,” she made sure to mention.

While that’s true, I’m here for a job, not for love.

I repeated that mantra on the ride to the airport, on the plane, and en route to my temporary home.

Preston had his assistant coordinate my travel, which included Jesse, his driver, to escort me back to the very building where I put my slippers in sport mode.

(It took Tammi twenty minutes to stop cackling when I told her about my Tom Cruise sprint down the hallway.

She was one giggle away from me hanging up.)

When Preston said I’d be somewhere close, I didn’t think he meant the other penthouse on the same floor.

I follow a yellow brick road of honey-colored hardwood from the living area past the kitchen. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Beyond a door is a large room that floats in the sky.

“And your silly self wanted to stay home. Look at this!” Tammi’s scream is so loud I pull the phone away from my face to rescue my eardrums. All of London hears her hollering. “Stop being a lazy host and show me around,” she huffs with wide eyes and a big mouth that’s on the verge of drooling.

The entire wall is glass, with drapes that are two Shaqs high. A king-size bed faces the city. There are overhead lights, simple nightstands on either side, and a reading chair in the corner.

I gasp.

“What is it?”

Tammi repeats the question until I pan the camera to an open closet of shelves and hanging rods filled with clothing and accessories. They’re all my favorite brands.

Light reflects off the curated inventory like a diamond. Dresses, skirts, pants, and tops are all carefully placed on satin hangers.

“I only brought two suitcases with me,” I say.

There’s a folded card on a shelf with my name in cursive.

“Read it!” Tammi’s round face holds the biggest grin. She tips her travel coffee mug at the camera, motioning for me to get on with it.

I flip the view back to me and raise a brow. “Did you take Ellis to school while you’re in my business?”

It’s 8:20 a.m. back home. Tammi already made three school stops and daycare drop-offs. The look she gives me tells me not to question her.

“I’m in the grocery store parking lot with a laundry list of things to do—laundry included. This is the first moment of silence I’ve had all day. The only gift waiting for me at home is the chance to pee without a child clawing at the door. Open. The. Damn. Card.”

“Alright,” I say. It’s pointless to argue with a tired mother.

“Flip the camera back so I can see.”

Puff,

I took the liberty of securing a wardrobe to ensure your comfort here in London. Thank you again for coming. It means more than you know.

Yours,

Preston

“Should we send for the rest of your things, or will you buy everything new once you marry this man?” My attempt at a glare activates Tammi’s belly laugh. Her cheeks tint red as her breath skates across the screen.

Detroit winters will never be my testimony.

I flip the camera on the way out of the bedroom. “No one is getting married. Where is your spirited lecture about chastity belts and joining a convent? Dating is a bad idea right now.”

“First, I’m not Catholic, and I’m pretty sure nobody is walking this earth in an iron diaper,” Tammi says.

“Second, I agreed with you taking a break from dating before I knew Preston was pursuing you. If he was coming like the others, keep him on read. The man is rolling out the red carpet and a literal penthouse. Why not consider something more if it feels right?”

“Because I make the wrong choices!” I gape at her like Tracee Ellis Ross to prove the point she’s missing.

“Make it make sense for me.”

I slide onto a barstool at the white marble island across from the kitchen with the grace of a jet-lagged traveler who’s questioning her life decisions. Handleless taupe cabinets glow in undercabinet lighting above a textured gray backsplash.

“This”—I motion around luxury I’ll never afford in this life or the next—“is unreal. I’m in London for three months for a man I loved fifteen years ago who reappeared out of thin air. How do I know I’m not making a mistake being here? I’ve been burned too many times to wear another scar.”

I rub my self-inflicted headache and startle at Tammi’s grin. It reminds me of the Smile movies. I’d question possession if she wasn’t blinking.

“Please stop looking at me like that,” I groan.

“Do you hear yourself, Ms. I Don’t Like to Share My Feelings? Don’t cut your eyes at me. Do you know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” I pick at a cuticle, which reminds me to find a new nail place here.

“I think you’re scared. I also think you’ve self-sabotaged to protect yourself from getting hurt again.

The men you date always fall short of your expectations, the same way Terrence distracted you from what you haven’t admitted.

Preston is your standard. You’re afraid having him in your life again will lead to the same outcome. ”

My heart thuds against my ribs. I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

“Love can feel like a roll of the dice, but true love is divinely connected,” she adds. “Life has seasons, and your paths are crossing again. Hold firm to your boundaries, but don’t block yourself from what might be the love you’ve been waiting for.”

“I’m here for a job,” I say out loud, to prove to myself and Tammi that I have zero intention of rekindling anything with Preston.

Tammi’s tired sigh is heavy. “You have to stop loving him before you can fall in love again,” she deadpans.

“Lie to yourself until you’re blue. You haven’t been hopping from man to man for this self-imposed time-out.

I supported it because I support you, but it’s been a year, Maddie.

Take a break from dating if you want, but you’re not fooling anyone.

Do me a favor and enjoy your time in London.

Hell, live for me! Someday, you’ll admit why you’re there.

Until then, date or don’t. You know what you want, and you need to get out of your own way. ”

“It’s not that easy, Tam. He’s a billionaire with—”

“Aht, aht! Those are excuses to feed your self-sabotage,” she snaps.

“I’m not freezing my ass off in a parking lot to hear that.

This man is showing you his intentions. It’s up to you to take it for what it is or keep things professional.

Talk to him about how you feel and go from there.

All this back-and-forth is about to piss me off.

He flew you out and put you up in a penthouse, and you want to boohoo about it. ”

“Okay, okay! Message received.”

We end the call after her hmph and my promise to see where these next three months lead. I’ll admit I’m excited, but I’m also scared. I only have a few business acquaintances here. No friends or family.

Things with Preston have been better than expected. But without our texts, what happens once the thrill wears off?