Page 73 of Loving London

Loïc

“I didn’t have to fly across an ocean to find peace because London found me.”

—Loïc Berkeley

Blinking rapidly, I struggle to focus on the number on the door. “Well, it’s thirty, right?” I ask London, biting my lip.

“Yep, flat thirty. This is it.” London grabs ahold of my hand and runs her free hand up and down my arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

“Look at me.”

I close my eyes and turn to face London. I release an audible breath before opening my eyes to find London’s brown-eyed gaze roaming over me, enveloping me. A slow smile forms on her lips, lighting up her eyes, and this simple gesture sheds light into the dark corners of my mind, extinguishing my inferno of nerves.

Freeing my hand, she wraps her arms around my neck. My mind is full of dueling emotions, both fear and love. Yet, as always, London’s love wins. When our lips meet, a sense of calm permeates, crowding out my panic.

“Better?” she asks breathlessly as she pulls her lips from mine.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. Right?”

I nod in agreement.

Uncertainty reappears as I reach out and knock on the door, but London’s right. I can deal with whatever I find.

The door remains closed, so I knock again.

A woman who appears to be in her thirties opens the door. She looks quite exhausted with a toddler on her hip, who is covered in some sort of red sauce. “Yes? Can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “Hi, I’m looking for my grandparents. They used to live here. Henry and Jane Berkeley?”

The woman thinks for a moment. “No, I haven’t heard those names. I’ve been here for about five years, and before that, it was a guy named Jay and his husband. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.”

“That’s okay. Thank you,” I say.

She nods and closes the door.

I turn to London. “Well, shit, that was anticlimactic.”

She laughs. “Yep, kinda was.”

“I suppose we should drive down and see if they still own the cottage,” I suggest.

“Sounds like a plan,” London agrees as we head outside to our rental car.

“Look,” I say to London before we get in the car. “You can see Big Ben from here.”

It took me a long time to make it here. It’s surreal that I’m finally in London, the place I held on to as a child through all the darkness. It was my dream, my happy place. I thought, when I made it here, I would be safe. I would find joy.

I breathe in, taking in my surroundings. The landmarks that I’ve seen in photos my whole life—structures that equated to my promised land, my sanctuary—are all around me. Yet, as I turn tomyLondon—my living, breathing beautiful girl—joy expands in my chest, and warmth fills my body, bringing a smile to my face.

I didn’t have to fly across an ocean to find peace because London had found me. She’s the answer to every question. She’s the solution to every problem. With her love, I can do anything.

She catches me watching her. “What?” she says with a smile, making my heart twist a little.

“Just you.”

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