Jessica’s [POV]
The weekend goes by too quickly, and before I know it, it’s Sunday and Parker is driving me back to the apartment. The first thing I do when we enter the apartment is check on Dani.
She’s sleeping, even though it’s early afternoon, which I assume means that she was out late with her friends yesterday. I can’t help wondering why Dani is trying so hard to become a party girl. Everything from her shy nature to her obvious feeling of inadequacy when wearing tight or short clothing makes it clear that she’s not that kind of girl.
“She’s sleeping,” I inform Parker, who is waiting in the living room. “But… my nose is an expert at detecting the smell of a person who is hungover, and Dani’s room smells just fine.”
“I’ll take your word. Do you have plans this afternoon?”
“There was something I wanted to do this weekend before a certain Brit hijacked my plans.”
“Hijacked, did I? So you didn’t have any fun?”
“I did not say that. I had a lot of fun. Before, the only thing I knew about Worcestershire was that the sauce was made there. Now I know a few things more. I loved it.”
Parker advances toward me like a hunter after his prey. “What exactly did you love about it?”
“The town, the countryside, Helen and Tara.”
“So… the Brit who dragged you there… where does he fit in?”
“Still considering it.”
He drags the tip of his nose across my cheek before kissing the corner of my lips.
“So what were your plans for the weekend before I hijacked them?”
“I had a date,” I say playfully.
Parker tenses, snapping his head back. “This thing between us Jess, it’s not a party. It’s you and me. You’re a beautiful woman, and I imagine you get asked out often, but if we’re giving this a shot, I want us to be exclusive.”
Holy shit. Exclusive dating. I must be dreaming.
Nodding, I explain, “I had a date with London. I have a list of things I want to do in the city. I have a list with London’s prettiest buildings, one with the prettiest streets.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“I am not.”
“There are lists like that out there?”
“It’s a sacrilege that you don’t even know. It’s all on my phone. I was going to track down some buildings this weekend. I have time to pack in one or two this afternoon.”
“Want company?”
I narrow my eyes. “That depends. Are you going to mock them?”
“I shall do no such thing.”
“Then hold on tight for the ride, Parker.”
Our first stop is Liberty’s, a department store on Great Marlborough Street. The Tudor style inspired the facade, and the inside is even more charming. It sells everything from fashion to jewelry to stationery and floral print fabrics. It’s the first store where I’m more interested in the building itself than what it sells. Massive wood staircases lead to the upper floor, and the upper galleries boast beautiful woodwork. The floorboards creak beneath our feet. It’s a surreal experience, almost as if I’ve stepped back in time.
Parker excuses himself while I take some pics, wandering away, and when I finally have my fill of the galleries, I descend to the lower level and find him waiting near the staircase, holding a small bag. He holds it out for me.
“What’s this?”
“I saw you look at it when we came in.”
It’s a bottle of jasmine-scented bubble bath.
“I did look at it. Wow. Thanks. But you didn’t have to buy it for me, Parker.”
“Maybe I bought it for both of us.”
“Explain.”
“You take a bath, send me a pic while I’m on my business trip.”
He leaves tomorrow on a trip until Sunday.
“Dream on, mister,” I tease. “Come on, we have time for one more visit.”
Our next stop is St. Pancras International, a train station adjacent to King’s Cross station. The red brick building is impressive, one of the best examples of Victorian Gothic architecture.
In my opinion, the clock tower is the most beautiful part.
“Did you know they’ve built a flat in the clock tower? You can rent it. The ceiling is ten meters high.”
“I didn’t know.”
He takes pictures of me while I make a fool of myself trying to find the best pose of Jess and The Clock Tower, and then he hijacks my pictures with a selfie with both of us like he did in Worcester.
“You love London,” he says.
“Yep. But it’s getting late, and you’re leaving early tomorrow, so we should call it a night.”
Parker takes one last selfie of us and then drives me to the apartment.
Dani is still sleeping, and after Parker leaves, I lay out my clothes for tomorrow. For the rest of the evening, I try to think about strategies to improve my boss’s opinion of me, but every time I remember his outburst, I hear my father’s words, feeding my desperation. “Ye’ll end up coming back home, you worthless, ungrateful brat.”
Worthless.
That word is synonymous with my name my father. And until a few months ago, I hadn’t done much to change that perception. My job search went surprisingly well. While most of my colleagues in my art and history classes, and Serena herself, struggled to get interviews, I breezed through them. I finally had a chance to put a lifetime of bluffing my way through school and college to good use. A good bluffer does not make a competent worker. But I’ll be damned if I won’t become the best one.
Work is awful on Monday and borderline brutal on Tuesday. On Wednesday I finally snap and tell Mr. Norton to pull out that stick he’s got up his ass and shove the report he made me redo for the fifth time inside instead. Instead of firing me the next minute, he apologizes and says he isn’t acting like himself these days, then shuts himself in his office. Fiona swears she heard him cry after a courier delivered his divorce papers, but I have to see it before I believe it. He turns back to being an ass in the afternoon anyway, so I don’t feel guilty in the slightest.
When I arrive home, Dani is eating some of the pudding I cooked yesterday.
“Sorry,” she says with a sheepish grin, “I was starving.”
“No problem.” I help myself to what is left while Dani becomes engrossed in back-and-forth texting on her cell phone. “In demand much?”
Her cheeks redden. “Just a friend.”
Dani’s comment makes me think of how much I miss talking to Serena. Thanks to the time zone difference, Serena is still stuck at work, but maybe I can talk to her for a few minutes. I’ve been bursting to tell her about Parker. I never told her what happened between us when I was home. Out of shame because he rejected me. I’ve always hidden shameful things from Serena.
But things have changed now. I hover my finger over the message icon of my screen, thinking whether I should send her a message first, asking her if she has a few minutes. Just seeing the message icon makes me seriously blush, which has a lot to do with the fact that Parker and I have been sexting like crazy all week. He warned me that he’d have no way of calling me during the day, or even the evening because he’s got back-to-back meetings scheduled from the wee hours of the morning until late in the evening. But at night . . . let’s just say the hotness level of his texts is enough to give me nightlong steamy dreams. It feels clandestine, too, which makes it even hotter. He won’t text me for another few hours though.
I go to my room, light a cigarette, and decide to call Serena. Thankfully, she picks up. I start talking right away.
“I am going to tell you something and I don’t want you to interrupt me until I am finished. I think I have something like a huge crush on Parker. I’ve had it for some time. Since he was in California. But then we had a . . . umm . . . fight, and then everything sort of fizzled out. Anyway, we’ve been together a few times since I moved here.” I pause, unsure of what to say next. Unsure of why I called. It’s not like I wanted to ask her advice on the matter. Then I realized I just wanted to share this with someone I trust and care for deeply.
I hold my breath, waiting to hear her speak. But it’s not her voice that comes through.
“Interesting.” The voice belongs to James.
“James,” I say, leaping up from my bed so brusquely that I accidentally burn myself with my cigarette. “Fuck,” I yelp, rubbing the burned spot. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You specifically asked not to be interrupted,” James says in an amused tone.
“I asked Serena not to interrupt me.”
“You never mentioned her name.”
“Wasn’t the fact that I called her an indication that I wanted to speak with her? Never mind, why are you answering her cell phone?”
“She’s at home, sleeping. She’s been sick the past couple of days.”
“She’s working too much,” I say.
“I agree. Look, I can tell her to call you when she wakes up.”
“Please do.”
“I think Parker needs someone like you.”
I need someone like him, too.
“By the way, there’s something I wanted to let you know. Nothing to do with Parker,” James says.
“Okay.”
“I want to ask Serena to marry me.”
I gasp. “Wow, that’s wonderful.”
; “Really? You sounded like you just had a heart attack,” James says, and I detect a slight nervousness in his voice.
“No, you just took me by surprise. I think this is . . . you’ll be so happy together. I-”
“Has Serena ever mentioned to you if she. . . er . . . has imagined how she’d like a proposal to be?”
I laugh. “No, James, she hasn’t actually. But your ideas for romantic dates have always surpassed everyone’s wildest imagination, so I think you’re good on your own.”
“I’ll think about it and run a few ideas by you.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Before I get the chance to ask him anything else he says, “Is Dani around? She’s not answering her phone.”
“Sure. I’ll pass her the phone.”
“Is she all right?”
“Yes, James,” I say, exasperated, as I leave my bed. “She’s behaving like any normal college girl.”
“She-”
“Yes, Parker told me she got involved with some guy last year who was up to some dangerous stuff, and I have a few things to say to you about that. First, I don’t buy that crap. As a big brother, you’re genetically programmed to dislike her boyfriends.”
“Are you done?” James asks with a hint of anger.
“Yes.”
“Then pass the phone to Dani.”