Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
And Dexter? I’d never see him again, never get to feel the scrape of his chin against my thigh. We’d had one dinner, but I’d never had such a perfect date. He was meant to be the icing on top of the London cake. My fun. My spa in male form. He’d been the first man who made me laugh out loud, the first man who I looked forward to kissing, the first man I ever wanted to have a second date with. Now none of that would happen.
What a disastrous mess.
I slumped on a bench and my phone buzzed in my hand.
Shit, I was meant to leave the phone. That would be Sparkle’s office manager, demanding it back.
I turned the phone over in my hand to reveal the caller. Dexter.
I slid the green button across. “Come and get drunk with me?”
“You going to help me celebrate?” he asked and despite my cloud of misery, I could still picture his relaxed smile. I knew he hadn’t called to crow. It wasn’t his style.
“Yes. And you can help me commiserate.”
“Sparkle will let you go early? I was going to suggest dinner.”
“Yeah, Sparkle let me go early. That’s what you’re going to help me commiserate about.”
“What? They let you go early today . . .?” He elongated the question like he knew the answer but didn’t want to put it into words.
“I got fired,” I coughed out. It hadn’t occurred to me they’d just get rid of me if they didn’t make the finals of the competition. They said they needed the desk space now they weren’t in the competition, which made no sense to me but I guess it didn’t need to. I’d been so excited about this opportunity. I’d talked incessantly to Autumn about it, as if this was me going to Harvard or something. But this was my Harvard. My chance to focus on me, to have a career, a different life. Jiminy Cricket.
Now I was going to have to spend money to change my flight and go home to . . . what?
“Hollie? Did you hear me?”
“What? Sorry? I was just—”
“Where are you right now?” Dexter asked.
I hadn’t taken much notice. I looked up for a sign and just saw the Sparkle awning down the street. I hadn’t made it far. “I’m getting to the end of Hatton Garden.”
“Which end?” he asked. His voice was muffled. “North or south?”
How should I know? “The end with the guy on the horse.” I hadn’t even had time to figure out why the statue at the end of the street was there. And the plaque on the wall outside our office. I kept meaning to read it but hadn’t gotten the chance. Two weeks in London wasn’t enough.
“Holborn Circus end?” he asked.
He’d been drinking already. “Nope. There’s no sign of a circus. Not a clown in sight.” Having to deal with a clown would really be the cherry on top of the most darn-awful day. “Just a gazillion traffic lights and cars everywhere.”
“Yeah. That’s Holborn Circus. Stay right there,” he snapped. “I’ll be ten minutes. I’m coming to get you.”
I’d been joking about him taking me drinking, but if he had the afternoon off to celebrate, I wasn’t going to complain if he wanted to help me drown my sorrows at the same time.
I changed direction, headed back to Sparkle, dropped the phone through their letterbox and retraced my steps toward the circus that wasn’t a circus. I wandered halfway across the street to the pedestrian island separating the cars going in opposite directions, which was where the statue of the man on the horse was. I might not have had a chance to go to the British Museum, but I could at least check this guy out.
The statue was high above me, mounted on a huge block of granite that made it all the more difficult to see it. Why in the hell was this raised high above the ground, overlooking all the traffic?
A car horn behind me made me jump, and I snapped my head around to find Dexter’s head poking out of a car stopped at the lights. “Jump in.”
Despite my mood, I couldn’t help but smile. He was here. I wasn’t sure why or how but I was just pleased he was. It made things a tiny bit better.
“Hey,” I said as I climbed in the passenger seat. “You skipped out of class early?”
“I had the head teacher’s permission.” He paused. “How are you feeling? Those bastards at Sparkle are lower than a snake’s belly.”
“I feel kinda numb.” But being here with Dexter was nice. More than nice. Just sitting next to him dulled the pain and frustration. More time with Dexter, even if it was just a couple of hours, would make this London trip memorable even if it all ended up being a waste of time and money.