Page 52 of Tattered Edges

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s delicious.”

“Well, if it’s anything like chicken and waffles, I believe you.”

“I will say, the food is only part of the experience. This place is known for its exceptional views of London. Thought you’d appreciate it.”

Before I could process and respond to what he’d said, our ride arrived. We climbed into the back of the Uber and our driver confirmed our destination. He had the radio turned on, which was actually a welcome distraction. Rory and I didn’t talk much during our ten-minute ride, but I didn’t mind. I needed the time to gather my wits about me and to remind myself—for the hundredth time—we weren’t on a date.

Duck and Waffle was located on the fortieth floor of a towering commercial building.

Rory hadn’t exaggerated. The view was stunning.

Our table wasn’t beside a window, but it didn’t matter. I could still see out over the city—lit up in the darkness of night—and it was beautiful.

In other circumstances, it might have been romantic.

That night, I’d settle for beautiful.

“Do you come here a lot? I mean, would it be fair to say this is one of your favorite places to eat?” I asked when we were left with our menus.

He knit his eyebrows together, in that habitual way of his, but didn’t bother to look over at me as he replied, “I enjoy it, but it’s been a while. I don’t dine out much. Takeaway, sure, but nothing like this.”

“How did you first find out about it?”

Almost as soon as the words passed through my lips, I regretted them.

Surely I wasn’t the only one of us who thought this was an ideal location for a date. I didn’t really want to know if he’d brought another woman there.

“Like I find out about most of the restaurants in the city I like. Graham.”

I relaxed then, smiling to myself as I glanced down at my menu.

Already sure I would order the duck and waffle, I didn’t bother looking at the other dinner selections but perused the cocktail options.

“Will you be having your usual drink tonight, or are you up for something new?”

Peeking across the table at him, I found Rory actually looking at me, his question mirrored in his gaze.

“Do you have a suggestion?”

“Try the negroni.”

I glanced down at the ingredients of the gin drink then shrugged and set aside my menu.

“Okay.”

Our server arrived and we ordered our drinks, Rory surprising me by tacking on his request for bacon-wrapped-dates. Open to just about any kind of food—and a born and bred American—I had zero objection to bacon.

Notsurprisingly, when we were left alone, Rory didn’t jumpstart the conversation. Intent on overcoming the silence, I thought I’d ask a question that had been on my mind for a few weeks.

“Speaking of Graham, I’ve been wondering, you two met in college. You both studied economics, right?”

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“But The King’s Steed, it was handed down to you by your grandfather?”

“Yes.”

“So—if you knew you’d end up at the pub, why study economics?”

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