Page 3 of Eternally London

“What’d you eat today?”

“Coffee and gummy bears.” She shrugs.

“Babe, one cannot exist on coffee and sugar alone.” I shake my head, my lips turning up in a grin.

“I bet they can.”

“What happened to going grocery shopping today?”

“I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t.” She sighs.

“You did not try.” I laugh.

“Yes, I did.” Her gorgeous brown eyes widen. “I looked at my shoes and everything. I just couldn’t will myself to put them on. Grocery shopping sucks. You know it does.”

“It does.” I nod. “What do you feel like?”

She presses her lips together in a line, thinking. “Thai or Mexican…or both! Yes, let’s do both!”

“We’re not going to two restaurants. Pick one.”

“I can’t. I’m too weak.” In dramatic fashion, she places her forearm against her head. “You pick.”

“Okay, we’ll go to that Thai place downtown.”

London grabs my shoulders. “No, pizza. Let’s do pizza. Moretti’s has the best ranch. Let’s go there. I need a meal with ranch.”

“That works.” I lift London off my lap. “Let me go get changed really quick.” I lean in and give her a small kiss on the lips. “And you’re the only person I know who bases their meal on the condiment.” I chuckle.

London follows me into the bedroom. “That can’t be true. Everyone craves food based on the condiment. You feel like honey mustard, so you get chicken strips. You feel like ranch, you get pizza. You feel like salsa, Mexican. You feel like spicy mustard and sweet and sour sauce, Chinese. Ketchup, something with a side of fries. Mayonnaise, a burger. I could go on and on. Food is only as good as the condiment that accompanies it.”

“So you’ve told me—many times.” I throw on a T-shirt. “That’s what I’m saying. No one takes their love of condiments as far as you do.”

“If they don’t, they should. It only makes the meal.”

“You should write a book about it.” I wave my hand out in front of me as I say, “The World of Food According to London.”

“Yes!” She stands in front of the mirror and applies lip color. “You know it’d be a best seller.”

“Oh, I have no doubt. If anyone can fill a three-hundred-page novel with condiment etiquette, it’s you.”

She fans her mouth with her hand in what I can only assume is an effort to dry her newly bright red lips.

“Why are you putting on lipstick? We’re going to go eat greasy pizza.”

She rubs her lips together before making a kissy face at the mirror. Turning, she grabs my hand. “It won’t come off. It’s LipSense.”

We head out of the room.

“Oh, is that the magic lip stuffPaige got you hooked on?”

“Yes, it is, and I’m obsessed. I shall never leave the house without it. This is a new color—Fly Girl. I just got it today. What do you think?”

“I think you look gorgeous—as always.” I squeeze her hand. “You don’t need magic lips to be beautiful though.”

“Aw, thanks, babe.” She lifts up onto her tiptoes and kisses me. Then, she drags her finger across my lips before showing it to me. “See? Nothing there. It’s magic.”

I chuckle and kiss her again. “Let’s go eat.”

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