Page 19 of Second Chances

“Chauvinist.” Amy folds her arms across her chest and makes a humph noise.

“Completely.” James pulls his wife toward him, “And I’ll show you how much…later.”

I turn my attention back to Elena—she’s watching me.

“You get used to them being like this,” she says and laughs as she goes to wipe my face again, but I grab hold of her hand.

“I think I already am.” Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss to her lips. “This was a pretty shitty first date. I was wondering if it’d be ok to try again?”

“This was a date?” Elena’s eyes go wide. “I thought you just wanted support. I didn’t realize it was anything more. I would have shouted louder.”

“You shouted loud enough—I could hear you over everyone. So what do you say?”

“No more cage fights where I have to watch you get beaten up?”

“I promise.”

“Then you have a date.”

Amy and James cheer behind us.

Chapter Nine

Elena

“Ican’t believe Matthew Carter is acting as our chauffeur tonight?” I lean over and whisper into Ryan’s ear. “Seriously. He’s really going to drive us around as needed?”

“Wherever we want to go. He feels guilty that he split my eyelid open, and I’m on office only duties at work.”

“Love it!” Elena squeaks around her class of champagne. “Do we have far to drive?”

“Nope, right near the Tower of London.”

“I love the Tower. I’ve an annual pass for it. I’m a bit of a history geek—anything Tudors is my passion,” I tell him excitedly.

“I never would’ve guessed.” The flittering of a mischievous smirk spreads across his handsome face.

“What have you planned?” I question, looking out the window at our surroundings and desperately trying to remember what there is around the Tower of London. It’s too late to be visiting the Tower itself—only the ghosts of those who lost their lives there are out after closing.

The car stops near the docks. The door opens and Matthew helps me out while Ryan comes around the car to join us.

“Welcome, my lady.” A big booming voice comes out of the darkness and scares me, “I’ll not bite unless ye require it.” Looking around, I see a man dressed head to toe as Henry VIII of England.

“Oh my god.” My excited squeal echoes through the night air. “I can’t believe it.”

The guy dressed as Henry VIII continues his talk as he leads us in through the entrance of the building in front of us and down into a vaulted room. Ryan follows behind me, but I don’t notice him at first. I’m too busy taking everything in. The people running around us are in Tudor dress: knights in full armor, and ladies in their finest costumes decorated in expensive jewels. There are jesters and acrobats. I’ve heard of this place before—it’s a medieval banquet where guests eat traditional Tudor food while a show is put on. My heart is beating so fast with excitement. I grab Ryan’s hand and squeeze it tightly when a fanfare sounds and merry music of the period is played by the band. An announcer welcomes the King, and we’re taken to the head of the top table as his VIP guests. I’m shaking and on the verge of tears. This is something I’ve often dreamed of experiencing. I’ve always wanted to come here, but I’ve never gotten around to it.

Ryan pours us two glasses of wine from a decanter.

“It should really be beer, but I’m not a fan. If you want, I can ask them to pass it down.”

I shake my head.

“Wine is fine. We can pretend we’re from the French court and being entertained by the English one. Just like at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow at me.

“Sorry,” he says. “History wasn’t one of my strong points. Physical education on the other hand ...”

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