Before too long, she appears, breathless and pink in the face from what must have been a dash out of her room and down the elevator to meet me. She waves her cellphone at me, an indication that she got my message to come downstairs, and smiles. As she rushes out of the hotel I put my arms out instinctively to catch her, worried that she will slip and fall under the sheer momentum she is carrying.
“Good morning,” I chuckle, catching hold of her elbows and holding her steady.
“Morning,” she pants. “I came as soon as I saw your message.”
“I can tell.” I look her up and down; she’s stunning even in just jeans and a simple t-shirt.
Casey blushes. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“And you didn’t,” I laugh, opening the door of the cab for her. “Come on, get in. We’ve got an appointment to make.”
“Oh, really?” Casey scrambles into the cab, looking back up at me. “Where?”
“You’ll see,” I say with a grin, moving to get in next to her and closing the door.
A night to sleep on it has done nothing to dampen my appreciation for Casey’s body, her beautiful face, the easy way we get along. If anything, I’m appreciating it more today – realizing that it wasn’t just a moment of madness. This is real, and it’s going somewhere.
As the taxi moves along, I point things out through the windows, Big Ben, Harrods, London Bridge and Tower Bridge across the water; and then we're pulling up alongside the docks, giving Casey an amused look before getting out.
I hurry around the car to offer her a hand as she gets out, and she emerges into the morning air, fresh and brisk this close to the river.
“What are we doing?” she asks, looking around in wonder.
I chuckle and point to the short pier that extends across the water, towards a boat moored close to the edge. “I’ve booked us a quintessential London experience. The river cruise with lunch.”
“A river cruise?” Casey’s eyes widen slightly. “That sounds kind of fancy.”
I laugh, offering her my arm as has become my habit as we walk towards the gangway. “It’s a little bit fancy. I upgraded us to VIP. But it’s just a tour of the city, as seen from the river. We’ll tick off a lot of your sights this way, and we get lunch wrapped up as well so we don’t have to scramble around for somewhere to go after.”
Casey grins. “It sounds really fun,” she says. “I can’t wait.”
“The boarding time is in ten minutes, but we should be able to get on early with our VIP pass,” I tell her. I show our tickets to a man in a waterproof coat standing by the gangplank that leads to the boat, and he unclips a black rope to let us through.
Soon we’re seated at a table up in the roped-off VIP area, getting our bearings. The boat fits a number of tables – ours, along with the other VIP seats, are round with a precise number of chairs depending on the number of people dining. Further down the boat are the ordinary seats, tables of eight where people are seated in mixed and matched groups of bookings.
We’re able to sit in comfort and enjoy fresh juice and coffee while the other guests file onto the boat, and we even get a chance to go upstairs to admire the deck before the tour is ready to set off. We stay up there, admiring the view, as the tour begins.
We don’t talk much, because the tour guide does that for us. He tells us about Big Ben and the Tower of London, takes us under Tower Bridge and London Bridge, points out the House of Parliament and all of the other famous sights – and even things I didn’t know about. Ancient ships still moored in their harbors, pubs and inns that have been around since Shakespeare’s time – all of it interesting and noteworthy. Most of the time, though, all I can see is Casey.
Finally, as we reach the furthest point of our journey, the spoken tour coming through the speakers ends and we’re ushered downstairs. There, as the boat slowly returns us to the docks, we eat a lunch of delicious seasonal pasta and berry cheesecakes, and I can’t help but wonder if anything in my life is ever going to have quite the same shine on it if Casey isn’t by my side.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Casey
I love this. I love all of it. I love the way that Edward offers me his arm, and helps me down the stairs so I won’t fall, and pulls out my chair for me. I love how he looks at me like I’m the most interesting person in the world, even though I know he must meet more interesting people all the time. I love eating with him, feeling like I’m not being judged at all, and talking freely between bites.
He takes care of me, makes sure that all of my needs are met. He won’t let me stand on the deck feeling too cold or too hot, won’t let me get thirsty or hungry. Is this what it would be like to be his wife? The thought fills me with a yearning I can barely explain. We’ve only really known each other a day, but I already feel like I don’t ever want to be apart from him again. I just wish there was some way to make him feel the same.
When the lunch is over and the plates are cleared, we come slowly back into the docks, and I feel sad that the river tour is finally coming to an end. I enjoyed every minute of it, all the more so because Edward was by my side.
We’re just stepping off the boat when I hear it. The
