Page 110 of A Forever Love

“I’d love that, but can we skip the sleep-in part? I think my excitement is enough to keep my jet lag at bay.”

I thought I would have to cajole him some more, but he grins instead. “I was hoping you’d feel that way, mittens. Just be prepared, it’s a bit of a drive.”

That feeling of overwhelm returns in my chest. I grip his waist, fisting the soft fabric of his jacket. “I’m so happy that I fear my heart will leap out of my throat. Please pinch me, because if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up disappointed.”

He ignores my proffered hand, choosing instead to kiss my lips. His soft ones meld with mine in a slow, sensual kiss that paints red hearts against a pink backdrop behind my closed eyes.

“Do you still think it’s a dream?” he asks, pulling back slightly, but his warm breath still caresses my skin. All I can manage is to shake my head, feeling like I’m in a half-dazed state, akin to how an addict might feel after getting their fix.

“Liar.” Carter chuckles.

* * *

After nearly two hours, I find myself standing outside a Georgian-style house. My breath catches in my throat, quivering with excitement.

“Ready?” Carter murmurs softly in my ear as I stare at the statue of a woman dressed in a blue period costume, a living impersonation of a photograph that I’d very lovingly pasted on my dorm room wall during my Jane Austen reading era.

“Are we at The Jane Austen Centre?” I ask, even though I need no confirmation.

“The one and only,” he nods, leading me inside to escape the chilly air.

The next hour flies by at the speed of light. My phone is loaded with countless photographs I’ve snapped. Carter juggles shopping bags filled with bookish T-shirts featuring Jane Austen quotes for everyone back home, hardcover editions of my favorite novels, and illustrated Jane Austen books in vibrant covers for Sage, Poppy, Adrianna, and Spring. I know it’ll be a few years before they can dive into these treasures, but my excitement clouds my sense of reason. Right now, my senses and sensibilities are out the window.

I can’t help but chuckle at my own silly euphemism.

Before leaving, we spend some time in the heavenly Regency Tea room, indulging in scones, finger sandwiches, and tea. Just as I’m about to get into the car, my phone rings, and Dad’s picture flashes on the screen. Without hesitation, I hit the green button.

“Dad, how are you?”

“You tell me, Merry Belle. How’s London treating you? Feeling any jet lag? Did you manage to sneak in a nap?” His gaze finally lands on my surroundings. “Wait, you’re not in your hotel?”

“No, Dad, you won’t believe where I am right now! I’m at the Jane Austen Center. I just had A Tea with Mr. Darcy.”

A hearty laugh escapes him, emphasizing the laugh lines around his eyes. “So, is Mr. Darcy as captivating in real life as he is in the books?”

“Very funny, but that’s the name of the tea.” I can’t help my smile. “I bought sweatshirts and T-shirts for you and everyone with my favorite Jane Austen quotes, and I got illustrated, colorful books for the girls. I know, I know, they’re all too young right now, but I can’t wait to share my love for books with them someday.”

Carter clears his throat beside me, and when I look at him, he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m so happy with you today, King, that I’ll let that scoff slide.”

“Is that Carter? I thought you went with Brandon.”

Carter’s jaw tightens at Dad’s words, and a tear rips through the joy I’ve been wearing all day. “Brandon is coming with Kristy tomorrow. I might have mentioned it earlier,” I say, the words sitting heavy on my chest, pushing down the happiness that had filled me moments before.

“I don’t remember,” Dad replies, his brows furrowing. Just then, Clementine appears on the screen, dressed in an oversized white shirt, with her thick glasses perched on her nose. She must be working late; she hates wearing them otherwise.

“You told me, Mere. I’m sorry I forgot to inform Keith, but things got busy after dinner tonight and the night before—”

Dad mutes the call and shakes his head. He says something to Clem, who’s still smiling and winking at me on the screen. Watching them, the storm of guilt quiets in my chest, but Carter’s fists remain clenched.

“Sorry. Clem has a deadline, and she’s buzzing with caffeine.”

“And you, my husband,” Clem chimes in, peering from behind Dad and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to scandalize you further, kiddo,” Dad says. “Have fun, and I can’t wait to wear that T-shirt.”

“Bye, Dad. I’ll call you tomorrow.” The call ends, and I wait for a few moments, hoping Carter might say something, but he remains silent. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it.”

---