I was quiet at first, on the way back to my hotel. I’d insisted Ames and I walk instead of taking a taxi, mostly because I knew it was close but also because I wanted a little bit more time with him to myself.

“You called me your date.”

Ames looked at me surprised. “I did?”

Nodding, I rubbed my hands together to warm them. “Well, you didn’t say that exactly. But you said that if Sam had a better personality, I would’ve been there as his date. Which implies I was there as yours, right?”

He tried not to smile, so I gave him a knowing look and shrugged. “Remember. I don’t kiss until the third date.”

“I never said I was going to kiss you.”

Giving him a smile, I said, “You don’t have to say it, but I think you want to.”

He stopped walking, so I did too. We were three feet apart, neither of us moving toward or away from each other.

“What makes you think that I want to?” he asked, his eyes sliding over my mouth.

“Because you keep looking at my lips,” I replied as quietly as I could.  And just to make my point clear I looked directly at his lips before lifting my eyes to his. "All through the dinner, you stared at my lips. But the first time I noticed was at Postman's Park.”

“Which was why you ran away.”

I nodded.

“And you were afraid of being kissed by a married man.” It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway.

“I don’t want to be that girl again. I don’t want to hurt someone, and I don’t want to be hurt myself.”

"What girl is that?"

“A girl that steals someone else’s man. Been there, done that, and I don’t want to travel down that path again.”

"Was that your boyfriend that died?"

"Yes." I rubbed my hands together, realizing that a simple statement that had thrown him off, had turned into a conversation that was now throwing me off. "When I met him, I didn't know he had a girlfriend at first. And he didn't make it clear to me that he was taken, and by the time I realized the strength of my feelings for him, I found out the truth and still, I continued." I waited for him to look at me with judgment in his eyes, or maybe even a little fear, realizing that I wasn't the person he probably thought I was. But he just looked at me thoughtfully and took one step closer.

"Are you haunted by that decision?"

"I don't know how I can’t be."

He nodded slowly and looked at the ground. “That’s very interesting. Because it appears that you are the one who hurt the most.”

"I don't think so."

“What happened to the other girl? Was she upset at realizing what you’d done? Because do you think she’d have preferred to be with a man who could do that to her?"

I rubbed my hand across my forehead.

“I haven't really thought to ask," I said. “She's dating my brother and she seems happy."

He took another step closer to me. "And what about you? Are you happy?"

"I am always happy." I licked my lips as I thought of how to explain it. "And am I grieving the loss of my boyfriend? Of course I am. But, I don't have to be sad all of the time. He left me, not willingly. So, if I was sad about that then I feel like that would be rather selfish. I have made a lot of selfish decisions, and that's not who I want to be."

He seemed to digest what I was saying. His head was bent toward the ground and he was nodding slowly. He raised his head looked at me and said, "I envy you."

I almost had asked him why but at the last minute I chickened out. And then I felt the first drop of rain on my shoulder. It was dark now, with streetlamps lighting up, and headlights passing us by, so the only light between us was artificial, with harsh shadows.

But I could make out faint droplets of rain that were increasing in speed along the ground between us. I looked up at him with a smile on my face. "Does it always rain here?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Unfortunately? I love the rain." I tilted my head back to the sky, letting the rain wash over me. My hair was going to look insane and I was sure that my makeup would smear all over the place. But that was okay with me. It was raining, and it felt so good to be on a dark street in London with the rain washing over me. A window above us opened and music poured out. I recognized the song as being something from the sixties, only because it was the record my parents played the most when I was a toddler learning to walk along to the beat of the song.

"Isn't this lovely?" I asked. I didn't look at him though, my face was still turned up toward the sky. And the music got louder, as if the owner of the stereo knew I needed to hear the beat of a song from my childhood while on the street with a man I didn't know well, but a man I was learning to like. "This is a perfect moment. It's just everything I didn't know I needed."

The rain came harder but it didn't hurt when it hit my skin. It was almost as if the rain here was softer than it was back home, which I knew sounded crazy. But it felt real to me. I opened my eyes and saw that he was watching me carefully. "What are you thinking?" I asked him.

"I'm thinking you are a little bit mad, just like I predicted when we met."

"Ah. You just need to stop and soak in the moment that you're in. You’re breathing, you're living, you just had dinner with the loveliest family, and now you're walking down the street, free as can be. What a beautiful time to be alive, you know? How lucky are we?"

I didn't wait for his response to that because my body started moving on its own accord, my hips doing circular motions to the rhythm of the beat. "I love this song."

"I think you love a great many things."

I laughed. "You say that with such a sour tone. As if I'm personally offending you, by enjoying this moment."

I heard rather than saw him take another step closer.

"You know what I thought the morning you came into my pub, the night after we met?"

I shook my head and held my breath, wondering exactly how he saw me.

"When I saw you come into my pub, the sun just exploded around you, and you had this smile on your lips; it seemed as if you were a mirage. And I thought to myself, this woman has never touched any sadness in her life."

I let that sink in as my heart tumbled just a bit in my chest. "Well, that's not true. I’ve touched sadness. But I refuse to let it consume who I am.”

"And that’s why I was an arse to you. I resented you—before I knew, about your boyfriend. That you could live happily when so many of us couldn’t.” He paused, which gave me a second to catch my breath from what he was saying. “And that's why I envy you. Because I don’t know how to wake up and feel happy. I don’t know what it’s like to not carry around this,” he pressed his fist to his chest, “weight. This heaviness.” He stepped closer still, the rain becoming louder, but his voice booming over it. “I can’t let it go. I won’t let go.”

My arms dropped to my sides and I just stared at him. It was probably the most honest anyone had been with me in so long that my brain absorbed it like gospel, and I wanted more.

“You don’t have to. You just have to learn to carry it.”

“I’d like to try.”

I nodded, and swallowed. “Okay.” And then I did something that surprised us both. I leaned forward and wrapped him in my arms, just holding him as the rain poured over us.

It took a second before his arms came around me, and when they did they squeezed, like he’d been starving for it.

I let go of the breath I’d been holding tight in my chest and just let him hold me the way he needed. And, if I was being honest, it was the way I needed, too.

Giving in to the moment, I buried my face into his shoulder, my lips right next to his neck. He was so warm, so … solid. He was as grounding as gravity, and my heart hammered so hard in my chest that I was sure it was hammering into his, too.

When he let go, he didn’t let me go all the way. His hand slid down my arm until it clasped mine and we continued on our walk. We were silent most of the way, and the rain lightened up enough that I wasn’t nearly as cold as I’d once been. I kept peeking glances at him, wondering if he felt the same way that I did—wondering where we’d go from here, from this moment. Just as we neared the entrance to my hotel, he looked at me. “This is you.”

I looked up at the old brick building. “It is. Thanks for walking with me.”

“Thanks for … well, everything.” He took my other hand with his and stared right into my eyes. And I thought, he’s going to kiss me.

He stepped closer, and his thumbs on both hands rubbed into my palm. “Mila,” he said, his voice dark and gruff.

“Yeah?”

He focused on something over my shoulder and pulled me toward him harshly, so much so that we both tumbled back a few steps but didn’t fall. My hands gripped the sides of his jacket, and I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

Startled, I looked at what passed us—a truck with support beams hanging out the sides, that would’ve clipped me across my head if I’d stayed where I’d been, beside the road.

“Wow,” I said breathlessly, and looked at Ames, who was less than an inch from my face. My pulse was racing, and my arms were shaky and his lips were right there, and his eyes were boring into mine and my hands were holding onto his sides. I tightened my grip as we stood there together on the sidewalk, and again, I thought, he’s going to kiss me, and I nearly leaned in myself before he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Mila,” he said in that gruff voice, and I felt all the adrenaline leave my body and felt that surge of disappointment that he hadn’t kissed me take its place.

Nodding, I let him unwind himself from me until the only thing that linked us were the tips of our fingers clasped together. “Goodnight.”

Then our fingers slipped away and I turned toward the entrance of my hotel.

I didn’t make it more than two feet, however, before his arm wrapped around my waist and he turned me to him in a rush. The breath was knocked out of me once again, just as his mouth lowered and closed over mine. I barely had a second to react, but then I did—hands in his hair as his own wrapped around my waist just as my legs went weak.

He tasted like heartbreak and hope, and my skin lit up with a thousand heat spots. I couldn’t get close enough, his mouth couldn’t kiss me long enough. I wanted more, more, more.

His mouth shifted, slanting over mine as his tongue lashed at mine. I could melt in his arms, I knew. All my atoms were fusing, warming, and I felt like falling completely apart, knowing he’d be there to hold me.

Then, just as quickly as he’d kissed me, his lips left mine. He pulled away just far enough to look me in the eyes. It was so quiet between us, just our breathing and my pulse pounding in my ears. His fingers touched my chin and gently, he lifted my face just an inch higher. His lips pressed again, gentler this time, and when he pulled away, it felt like he could have kept going. His hands cradled my face, and with our bottom lips still touching, he whispered into my mouth, “I’m sorry for breaking your rule.”

His hair was a wild mess, and I knew that was my doing. Pleased with myself, I just smiled.

“I’m not.”