Page 9 of One Wrong Move

“I’ll try to,” she says. The waitress brings our drinks, and Harper grips her lemonade with both hands, looking out the window.

I don’t like the silence. Not with her, not when it’s a contrast to the lively discussions we’ve had in the past. The discussions where her personality came out, when I got her perspective on things. I’ve never met anyone with quite the same opinions as Harper. She surprised me constantly.

Why’d you leave Dean?

The question burns and has since I found out the news. But I can’t ask it. It belongs in the box, and as far as I’m concerned, that box serves us both just fine.

“What’s your plan while you’re in London?” I ask instead. “See all the sights? Go to every gallery and museum?”

Her face lights up. “Yes. I have a long list of the things I want to see.”

“Give me your top picks.”

She does, running through everything from the Tower and the Buckingham Palace to obscure museums and galleries I’ve never heard of.

“Well,” I say. “I think you might need more than six months.”

“Maybe. I’m not thinking too far ahead right now. All I want is… to explore a new place. To discover a new me.” But then she shakes her head like she shouldn’t have said that.

“I think that makes perfect sense.”

Her eyes widen. “You do?”

“Of course. You think I didn’t do the same when I first came here?”

Now her smile is curled with interest. “No, I don’t. You’ve always seemed… What did you change? I can’t imagine you wanting to change a thing about your life.”

That makes me chuckle. I use the pause to reach for my coffee and take a sip. The main reason I lobbied my brother for the London position isn’t one I can share. Not with her… since she was the main reason.

“What does that mean? You think my life is perfect?” I ask. It’s easy to play this role with her. To lean back in my chair and give her a lazy smile.

Harper rolls her eyes. “I mean, kinda? You’re a jet-setting bachelor. You work in this hugely successful company that I never understood. You’re handsome, rich, and you buy art on a regular basis… I’ve heard a ton of things, Nate, and I bet it’s a pretty nice life.”

I grin at her. She thinks I’m handsome? “Well, I think that might be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

“Did you just trick me into giving you a compliment, just to win a point?”

“Maybe I did,” I say. She’s halfway through her lemonade, and I don’t want to leave without… something. Without knowing I’ll get to see her again. I shouldn’t try to. Shouldn’t ask. But there’s no self-control, not when she’s here in front of me. When she just laughed because of me.

“Do you know anyone else in London?”

“Not a single person,” she says. But then she smiles. “Just you.”

I reach into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and find my phone. “I have a suggestion for you.”

“A suggestion?”

“Yes. Two, in fact, and I want you to consider them before giving an answer.”

Her eyebrows knit together, but she’s intrigued. I can tell. “All right, this sounds… interesting. It has nothing to do with the box?”

“Nothing at all. I will never open that box, it will have to be you,” I say. “Trust me on that.”

She nods, a bit hesitantly. “Okay. I appreciate that. So, what are these suggestions?”

“There’s an exhibition at the London Modern tomorrow night.” I click open the email and flip my phone to display the invitation to her. “A new group of artists is being showcased.”

Her eyes grow wide as saucers as she reads the invite. “And you were invited to this?”

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