“YOU’RE STILL REALLY FREAKED OUT!” It’s not a question from Connor but a statement as we stroll through Kensington Gardens. It’s dry and bright but with a slight wind bringing the temperature down. Still nice enough for a relaxing walk hand-in-hand.
“Yes. I know it was him. He was standing there just watching me. How long had he been hanging around? Had he been watching me the whole time Will was taking pictures of me outside?”
“I blame myself for Trevor being held up.”
“Don’t you dare. This isn’t your fault. I should be able to go about my business and not have to look over my shoulder. I think his aim is to frighten me, but I’m not sure why.”
“Well, I’ll be with you now all the time we’re here in London. And Trevor has already spoken to Johnathon to see what they can do, although he hasn’t approached you in person and there’s been no further messages from him.”
We stop in front of the Peter Pan statue to the west of Long Water, in the same spot as Peter lands his bird-nest boat in the story, ‘The Little White Bird.’ The bronze statue features Peter Pan surrounded by squirrels, mice, rabbits, and fairies. It’s stunning. A family nearby runs to catch up with their little girl who wants to have her picture taken beside Peter Pan. I watch on, smiling.
“You’re in a world of your own.”
I loved getting my picture taken when I was her age. Hopefully my own kids will be the same, if I’m lucky enough to be blessed with any. “Yes, I was. Come on. Let’s finish our walk and then we should go for lunch. I’m starting to feel hungry.”
“Why didn’t you say?” He kisses me on my nose before pulling me along with him. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned I was hungry because now I’m sure I won’t get to enjoy our relaxing stroll through the gardens.
We pause briefly at The Albert Memorial; it is one of London’s most ornate monuments. It commemorates the death of Prince Albert in 1861 of typhoid at the age of forty-two. There’s lots of tourists listening to a guide telling them all about Prince Albert. It’s all very interesting.
“Do you fancy anything in particular to eat?” Connor asks.
“Not really.”
“I think we should walk back and head to Notting Hill. There’s a beautiful Italian restaurant that I know you’ll love.” I nod in agreement.
We turn around and continue walking in silence. I’m trying not to dwell on last night, but it has taken me by surprise and, as Connor says, completely freaked me out. Part of me wants to get in touch with Donovan to find out what the hell he wants from me, but the sensible side tells me to stay as far away from him as I possibly can, because he’s only going to bring me more trouble.
Yes, I’m curious to find out, but I’m sure Johnathon will be able to fill me in in due course. Dad was on the phone first thing this morning, checking up on me. He wanted Connor and me to come home early, but I told him no, that I wanted to enjoy our time together because when we go home, life is going to be hectic for us until we get ourselves into a routine.
Tomorrow morning, I have a meeting with the director and casting producer and Trevor, for the movie. When I read the script, it had all the feels, but one thing is putting me off. Returning to L.A.
If I get offered the part, I have plenty of time to think about it and sort myself out; filming doesn’t begin for another three months.
A shiver runs through my body, much the same as it did last night. I find myself looking around us, glancing briefly over my shoulder, looking for something or someone. There’s lots of people in the park but no one I recognise.
I’m just being foolish. This is my imagination running riot. I’ve never experienced feelings of being unsafe, but there’s something bothering me.
Internally, I give myself a telling off.
Connor stops walking and I only notice when he pulls me roughly back, spinning me around to face him. “You really are a million miles away today,” he says, a softness in his voice.
“Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“I know that, but you don’t have to keep everything bottled up. I’m here for you. I’ve always been a good listener.”
He pulls my body tight to his and I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes momentarily, accepting the comfort he’s offering me. When I’m around him and things seem out of my reach, as though my life is spinning out of control, he grounds me. He doesn’t usually have to say anything, just having him near or his arms around me is enough. I don’t want to tell him there’s a feeling of unease sweeping over me. I’m not even sure if that’s what it is.
“Better?” he asks, tilting my head until I can see his bright eyes clearly.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He presses his lips lightly to mine and the minute they connect, I feel the urge to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away, smirking. “No, you don’t. Lunch.”
“Fine.” I sigh heavily.
We walk to the restaurant, although not in silence. Connor talks and it keeps my mind off everything that’s going on. The restaurant sits on a corner and has outdoor seating, but I’m hoping Connor doesn’t want to sit outside and watch the world go by because I’d much rather be inside. He opens the door and we step inside. It’s rustic, and the smell that hits me straight away is heavenly.
I’m sure I hear my own stomach grumble and I’m not that surprised. We didn’t have breakfast this morning. As soon as we were up and ready, I just wanted to go for a walk.
A waiter with a heavy Italian accent seats us in a table at the back of the restaurant, giving us an open view of the chefs at work in the kitchen. Connor orders a bottle of wine along with some water and I sit back and take in our surroundings. Wooden beam ceilings, mosaic tiles on the floor. It’s perfect. We read the menu, even though I have an idea what Connor will pick. The waiter brings over our drinks and asks if we’re ready to order. “Can I have Carpaccio di Manzo con Instalitina di Rucola e Parmigano to start. Followed by Gamberoni in Padella?”
“Of course; fine choice. And for you?” The waiter turns his attention to Connor.
“He’ll have Ribollita alla Toscana, followed by Filleto di Vitello alla Griglia con Zucchine Croccanti. Am I correct?” I ask smugly.
“Yes,” Connor says, and the waiter leaves our table, looking amused. “How do you know that?”
“We’ve been to enough Italian restaurants over the years for me to notice. You always pick veal if it’s on the menu and, as for the soup, you’ve had it a few times and nothing else on the menu appealed to me for you,” I say, sitting back in my chair and watching him as I take a sip of the wine that has been poured.
“You’ve been very observant, haven’t you?”
“Yes and always. Even down to the fact that over the years you’ve rarely dated and you seldom get drunk.”
“I had someone in my life, and she was worth waiting for. As for getting drunk, it’s not really my style.” I lift my now shaky hand to my mouth and gasp. My heart swells at his words. “Ella, I can’t pretend with you about how I feel. Not anymore. Not when I don’t have to keep it bottled up inside. I know how I feel about you, but I’ll only say those words when I know you’re ready to hear them.”
Tears fill my eyes, blurring my vision, but I don’t want to cry. Not today. Not even with happy thoughts and feelings. He reaches across, removing my hand from my mouth, “Ella, please don’t get upset. Today I just want us to relax and be happy.”
“I’m trying to do both.”
“I sense a but. Tell me what’s wrong.”
I take a deep breath. “In the park, a shiver coursed through me, just like it did last night.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I couldn’t see anyone. I looked. Believe me, I looked.”
“Babe, you have to talk to me. Be honest with me.” I nod as the waiter comes back to our table with our starters. “Thank you,” we say at the same time. The waiter nods before leaving us.
Silence fills the air around us and I don’t like it. He’s frustrated with me and I can’t blame him. It’s going to be hard sharing thoughts and feelings. I’ve always made decisions on my own.
I was the one feeling uneasy and I was the one who made the decision not to tell him my thoughts and fears. Which is silly, given the fact I was able to tell him about last night.
What’s the difference?
Is it because today it’s bright, and last night it was dark and I was tired?
“Connor, I’m sorry. I should’ve mentioned it, especially given how I’m feeling,” I say, desperate to change the atmosphere that has built up between us. I don’t want to argue or fall out with him.
“I know you are. But you frustrate me. All I want to do is be here for you and with you.”
“So I’m forgiven?”
“Of course. Now, tomorrow’s meeting. Are you ready for it?” he asks, and the subject is changed and normal conversation resumes.
I tell him my fears. The what if I get offered the part? Connor tells me that if I do get the part and need to be in L.A, he’ll be there with me. I can’t help but smile as he reinforces the words he’s told me before.
The rest of our lunch passes without further event, and when we leave, I’m happier and more relaxed than I have been all day.
I stop on the pavement outside the restaurant and face him, taking his hand in mine. He wraps his other arm around my back and softly presses his mouth against mine. Unlike earlier, I have no desire to rush or take more from this kiss. This kiss is everything I want and need right now. Slow and thoughtful, just like the man before me.
“Where to now?” he asks.
“The hotel.”
“No. How about we go shopping?”