Page 53 of Total Dreamboat
Felix
I’m at the tavern in town, half-listening to my sisters’ chatter and counting down the minutes until lunch arrives, because as soon as we get back to the hotel, I am going to call Hope, and it’s all I can think about.
But I don’t get the chance.
Because here she is, in this tiny village in Devon, standing in front of me like a vision my heart has conjured.
I leap up. “Hope,” I say. “My God.”
I can’t get anything else out. I don’t know what to do. Should I hug her? Kiss her? Propose?
She clearly doesn’t know what to do either.
So I stand up, kiss her cheek, and when she doesn’t pull away, wrap her in a hug and squeeze her for much longer than is normal.
I know I’m being weird. I can’t let go. And when I glance down at her face, she’s looking up at me, grinning.
There are no assurances in life, of course. But that smile tells me she’s happy to see me. And that’s enough for this moment.
“Hi,” I say into her ear.
“Hi,” she whispers back.
“What brings you to the hinterlands of England, Hope?” Prue asks, either not clocking that I’m having a moment or hoping to break my moment because the way I am holding Hope is not socially acceptable for a family restaurant.
“I’m here for the summer,” Hope says, turning to her. “I’m staying nearby, in Torbay.”
“Felix, you didn’t tell us Hope was here!” Pear says.
“I had no idea,” I say.
“Are you guys on vacation?” Hope asks.
“Just a little weekend break to visit Felix’s inn. He needs a feminine touch, lest the whole thing be decorated in leather and stag horns.”
“I have not purchased a single stag horn,” I say.
“Wait, you have an inn?” Hope asks.
“I bought an old pub with rooms to fix up,” I say.
“Not a pub with rooms,” Pear says. “He bought a dilapidated country hotel in an old manor house that happens to have a pub. He’s renovating it into a hipster hotel.”
“It will not be a hipster hotel,” I clarify. “It will simply have an updated aesthetic. And a gastropub. Hopefully a good one.”
Hope beams at me. “I’m so happy for you. Are you living here?”
“Mostly. Going back and forth between here and London. I still have the pubs.”
“Too stubborn to let us sell them to Pizza Express, alas,” Prue says.
“Would you join us for lunch?” I ask Hope, praying she’ll say yes.
“Sure,” she says. “Let me just tell the waiter I’m moving tables.”
While she retrieves her wine and tracks down the server, Pear and Prue whisper instructions to me.
“We know you still like her,” Pear says.
“You’re inviting her over tonight,” Prue says. “We’ll make ourselves scarce.”
“Or take her on a walk along the seaside,” Pear suggests. “Do it after lunch so she can’t escape.”
“Ah, yes, much more pragmatic,” Prue says. “Do that. And then invite her to yours.”
Before they can offer more unsolicited advice on courtship, Hope returns and takes the empty chair at our table.
“What did you order?” Prue asks.
“Crab sandwich,” Hope says. “I’m obsessed with the crab here.”
“Throw some in Felix’s hair,” Prue says. “Just like when you met.”
Hope laughs. “I think you can only get away with that once.”
“I don’t mind,” I say. “You have crab blanche.”
“What made you decide on Devon for the summer?” Pear asks.
“Well, I’m working on a book set in England, and I thought it might help to come here. Take in the vibe, get out of New York for a while. And a friend was able to get me a good deal on a flat here.”
“How brilliant,” Prue exclaims. “Tell us about your book.”
Hope explains the plot. It reminds me of the conversation we had when we parted. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.
I wonder if she thinks about me while she works on it, the way I think of her when I picture my life at the inn.
The food arrives, and we all catch up as we eat. When the pudding has been cleared away, Pear looks at her phone.
“Oh, no,” she says. “Milo texted—apparently there’s trouble with the Maynards deal. We should get back and hop on a video call.”
“Oh, too bad!” Hope says, rising to her feet. “Maybe we can all meet for a drink some time before you leave.”
Pear and Prue each give her kisses on the cheek. I know they are lying about an emergency—as far as I know there is no such thing as a Maynards deal—but I’m grateful for their interference.
As soon as they leave, I invite Hope on a walk.
“I’d love to,” she says.
“So, this is going to sound convenient,” I say. “But I had planned to call you. Today.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“I mean it. I’ve wanted to do it for months, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”
She doesn’t deny this. She just asks: “What changed?”
“It’s quite absurd,” I warn her. “Actually, I don’t even want to tell you.”
“Well, now you have to,” she says.
“Prue and Pear made me pull a tarot card from this deck we found. And I got the Empress.”
Her eyes widen.
“I thought it was a sign,” I go on. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we left the Bahamas.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m going to say something terrifying,” she says.
“Try me.”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either.”