Page 76 of Tattered Edges

“That’s what I thought.”

“So, what happened?”

I took a breath then let it out in a huff as I tried to gather my thoughts. I then started with news of the most recent break-in, which she didn’t take too kindly.

When I got to the part about Iris, she was ecstatic. I thought it entirely possible she would forgo visiting me in London in favor of coming with me to Paris.

We’d been on the phone for almost an hour by the time I arrived at Sunday night.

“I won’t lie, we’ve spent a good amount of time naked together since that became an option—but last night was different. He got home from work, and instead of going at each other, he offered to make me a drink. He made himself one too, and we actually drank them this time. Then we just…talked. For hours.”

My gaze drifted over the phone and onto the bookshelves that flanked his fireplace, memories of our conversation popping in my head like sparks in a crackling fire.

“We discussed books and art andpolitics, of all things. I actually learned quite a bit last night. It was around midnight when we decided to go to bed. But even after he turned out the lights, we laid together and kept talking.

“In the dark, I admitted things I’ve never told any man. About my mom and our complicated dynamic. He opened up, too, about the relationship he had with his grandpa—especially after his uncle died. I don’t know what time we fell asleep.”

“Oh, my gosh, I love all of this. You two are like teenagers, staying up all hours of the night, unable to get enough of each other.” Diane sighed wistfully. “I remember those early days with Brady. They were pretty special.”

I propped my chin atop my knees as I realized aloud, “Actually, I remember that, too. You were totally smitten.”

“Yeah, just like you are now.”

I scrunched my nose playfully in response.

“Don’t make that face at me, you know it’s true. I’m about two seconds away from buying a plane ticket so I can come meet this Rory who’s stealing my best friend’s heart.”

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and held back the words that had raced to the tip of my tongue, not sure I was ready to say them aloud—not even to Diane.

It scared me to admit it, but I didn’t think Rory would have to steal anything.

WhileIwasatwork, Rory installed more security cameras for me. I also made an appointment with a locksmith, who would drop by the following day to re-key my flat. A detective came in to inform me theyhadcaptured footage of my intruder running away on Friday night—but other than the person’s height, they couldn’t make out much else.

Now, more than ever, I was grateful Rory had thought to install my security system.

At six o’clock, I said goodnight to Victoria, who offered to close the shop for me so I could sneak upstairs and get ready for my date. It had been a long time since I went through so much trouble to gussy myself up for a man, but in all my excitement, I was feeling exceptionally girly, and I wanted to give myself as much time as possible.

I showered, allowing me to shave as well as wash and condition my mane. Freshly bathed, I lathered myself in lotion and then took my time blow drying and styling my hair. I wore it how I liked it best—a little tousled, a little curled, with the perfect amount of volume.

I did my whole makeup routine, doubling up on my mascara to give my eyes a little extra flare, and I was sure to apply a couple spritz of my favorite perfume.

For my outfit, I opted for a fitted, black, long-sleeve shirt—the neckline dipping just low enough to show off a hint of cleavage—along with my brown, faux-leather mini skirt. I covered my legs with a pair of sheer, black tights, and completed the outfit with black, suede ankle booties with a stiletto heel.

It was a quarter after seven when Rory buzzed up to my flat. I was quick to slip into my coat before I grabbed my purse and my keys and hurried down to meet him.

When I opened the door, my stomach clenched.

If it were plausible for James Bond to be a redhead with a short-trimmed beard—well, I had first dibs.

He had on a white, collared button-up underneath a pale gray, crew-neck sweater and a pair of navy slacks. Under the lapels of his coat, he had a scarf draped down either side of his chest. He stood there, at my doorstep, his coat spread open and his hands in his pant pockets, looking sophisticated, suave, and positively kissable.

“Hi,” he muttered as he leaned in to press his lips to mine. He kissed me once, then once more, hardly pulling away as he said, “You look fantastic.”

Pressing up onto my toes, I initiated another kiss before I whispered, “So do you.”

“Shall we get out of here?”

“Mmhmm,” I hummed.

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