Page 10 of The London Chance
Heat bloomed across my cheeks as I rinsed and patted my mouth dry, but I couldn’t exactly hide in here. I slipped the boxers and tee on and found a pair of gray sweats and black socks perched on the banister post where Roman said they’d be. I finished dressing, finger-combed my short hair, and took one last cleansing breath before following the scent of coffee downstairs.
The living and dining areas opened to the kitchen set at the rear of the house. A garden terrace lined with roses was visible through the french windows. The color palette was beige with pops of red and blue in knickknacks lining the bookshelves flanking the fireplace. I gravitated to the vignette of black-and-white portraits of rock stars, thinking they added the perfect amount of quirk to the otherwise austere decor.
I continued into the kitchen, salivating at the plate piled high with bacon on the petite island.
“Smells good,” I commented, thanking Roman when he handed over a cup of coffee.
He gestured at the farmhouse-style table and motioned for me to take a seat. He joined me shortly, setting the bacon down with a side of eggs and toast. “Would you prefer strawberry jam or marmalade?”
“Uh…strawberry jam is good, but—”
“I’ll be right back.”
He returned with a tiny jar of jam, butter, silverware, napkins, and a bottle of water.
“Wait. Where’s yours?” I asked, belatedly noting the solo place setting.
“I’ve eaten breakfast…and lunch. You’re a little behind. Tuck in.”
I sipped coffee and nibbled bacon at first, unsure whether I had a real appetite. But a few bites in, I realized I was famished.
“So…about last night,” I ventured, buttering a slice of wheat toast and cutting it diagonally.
Roman snort-laughed. “I’m not sure where to begin. How about karaoke? How’d you end up there?”
I bit into the toast. “I wasn’t ready to go back to my hotel room. It sounded…depressing and I was already down in the dumps. Karaoke is usually the perfect mood lifter.”
He propped his elbows on the table and studied me. “Bad date, eh?”
I chewed and swallowed. “Not bad. Just…not what I imagined. You?”
“Same.” Roman shrugged, then furrowed his brow. “I thought I met a different guy…until I ran into the real Chance on stage singing his fucking heart out.”
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I winced.
“Why not? That’s the real you, isn’t it?”
“Minus the part that goes home with a stranger…yes.”
Roman cocked his head. “I’m not exactly a stranger.”
“Of course, you are. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. That’s the problem with dating apps and social media. Some people lie without thinking twice about it, and others might be honest…with a filter. That’s what happened here. Filter’s off, and this is who we really are. You’re a nice guy who felt sorry for the idiot who flew ten hours on a business trip that definitely could have been confined to Zoom calls.” I sipped my coffee, casting a longing look at the pretty terrace before fixing him with a rueful half smile. “Just so we’re clear, I’m completely mortified. If I weren’t hopelessly hungover, I would have raced out the door the second I came to this morning.”
“You mean this afternoon.” He snorted. “And somehow I doubt that. Your clothes were in the wash.”
“Ah, right. That makes this a hostage situation.” I made myself a mini egg sandwich, stacking eggs and bacon on my toast.Yum.
Roman chuckled. “Very funny. You’re free to go whenever you want.”
I pointed at my egg concoction and coffee. “Gimme a minute or two. I’m just starting to feel human.”
“No hurry. I’m working from home today.”
“’Cause of me?” I asked, pulling a yikes face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I swear I wouldn’t steal the silverware.”
“You can have the silverware. That would have been a nice way of getting rid of it. I was more worried about you choking on your own vomit,” he retorted.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, lowering my head sheepishly. I picked up a spoon and twirled it before slipping it into my pocket.