Page 164 of False God

Chloe tells me about the solo honeymoon she and Theo are planning—they’ve narrowed destinations down between Paris and Santorini—and the part in the play she just got.

By the time we finish brunch, my cheeks hurt from smiling so much. It’s been too long since Chloe and I got to visit together like this, just the two of us.

I’m taken off guard by how natural it all feels. Waking up in Charlie’s king-sized bed, eating breakfast with him and Blythe, driving into London together. How easily I can picture it as my everyday life.

Chloe gives me a long hug, then rushes off to a rehearsal after making me promise to keep her updated.

I don’t need to clarify what she wants updates on.

It’s still fifteen minutes from when Charlie said he’d pick me up, so I walk to a nearby park. I’m not sure if it’s the sameone Charlie was talking about at The Beach House, but it looks awfully similar. There’s a fountain and lots of walking paths.

Unlike yesterday, it’s clear and sunny out. I stroll slowly in my heels—Charlie would never let me live it down if I tripped and landed in the hospital athirdtime this summer—enjoying the soundtrack of voices and birds chirping.

I take a seat on one of the metal benches right as my phone begins buzzing in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting to see Charlie’s name—telling me he’s running early or running late—but it’s not.

It’s my dad.

I answer immediately, worried something is wrong. It’s six a.m. in New York.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, honey.” His voice is even and calm, which slows my racing heart some. But I ask, “Is everything okay?” just to be sure.

“Everything’s fine. Your mom went to Boston with Hannah for a fundraiser, so I’ve got the penthouse to myself. I thought I’d try you since your brothers won’t be up for several hours.”

“So, I was your third choice?” I tease.

Dad chuckles. “Never. You’re all tied for first place.”

“Uh-huh. That’s realistic.”

“How’s Dublin?”

I adjust the folds of my dress. It’s one of my favorites—green and pink silk with a flared hem and a bow in the front. We’re headed to what Charlie called a garden party next, so I dressed up a little extra before brunch.

“I’m in London actually.”

A pause.

“For work?”

“Nope.”

Another longer pause.

“I like him.”

“Like who?”

“Charles.”

I fumble for words. “What do you—how did you …”

I’ve never mentioned Charlie to my dad. And I haven’t discussed him with Mom since that one night after dinner.

“I know it’s probably not cool to get your father’s approval. But he has mine, if it matters.”

“Of course it matters, Dad.”

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