I smiled. “So, I gather a proposal isn’t imminent, then?”
He walked closer to the window, motioning for me to follow. “See the woman at the table in the middle of the room—pink dress, feathers in her hat?”
I eyed the stylish woman with high cheekbones and glowing skin. “She’s beautiful,” I said, turning back to him. “So, what’s the problem?”
He glanced back at the dining room. “I’d rather be alone forever than have a dull companion.”
I watched regret, or perhaps nostalgia, sweep across his face. “For all of its stuffiness, this really is a grand old place, isn’t it?” He leaned in closer. “Just last month, Princess Margaret sat at that table.” He pointed through the windows. “Perhaps you saw her.”
I nodded, grateful he didn’t press me for details.
“I was eight years old when we moved to London from the countryside,” he continued. “Our family was invited to a welcome lunch. Mother insisted I wear a suit, and I pitched a fit of royal proportions. As for tonight, my sister found out that I’d be meeting a group of American businessmen here, and she hoodwinked me into staying for dinner.” He smiled, and I immediately thought of Frank. “American men, they all sound like—”
“Cowboys,” we said in unison, then laughed.
Our eyes locked for a long moment, and I stifled another shiver as he extinguished the remains of his smoldering cigar on the balcony’s ledge.
“Care for a cigarette?” he asked, pulling a pack from his shirt pocket.
I’d never taken up the habit, but for some reason, I nodded anyway and a moment later we were both sending out puffs of smoke and watching them collide in the cold air.
“So, what about your date?” I asked, feeling a tinge of empathy for the woman inside.
“She’ll be fine,” he said with a shrug. “She’s been making eyes at a gentleman at the bar all evening.”
“Well, where do we go from here?” I asked, looking up at him. “It seems there’s no exit from this balcony. I guess we’re—”
“Stuck,” we both said. I quickly deflected my eyes from his gaze.
“I’m afraid so.” He pressed his cigarette between his lips again. “January’s brutal.”
I nodded. “My mum used to get the winter blues, but every day she’d watch for the promise of spring, when the first green shoots burst through the ground. She’d always say, ‘Hold on, the daffodils are coming.’?” I smiled. “I loved hearing that. I still do.” I had no idea why I was telling him this, but the words felt natural, as if I were talking to an old friend.
“That’s beautiful,” he said.
“Yes, everything about her was beautiful.” My eyes met his again. “She passed a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he replied, touching my shoulder lightly. The warmth of his hand spread down my arm.
“She’s at peace now.” I paused, searching the snow-dusted garden below, unsuccessfully, for any sign of daffodils. “January isn’t just the coldest month of the year. It comes with a…feeling—like the whole world is in a slump because Christmas won’t come again for—”
We spoke at the same time: “Another year.”
His eyes searched mine with a contemplative smile. “You know, if we keep finishing each other’s sentences like this, I may have to…” His voice trailed off as he turned his attention to the night sky. “Look at the stars up there, fighting to be seen through all these city lights. It’s like a battle between two opposing forces: eternity versus modernity.”
I smiled up at him curiously. “Eternity for the win?”
“Eternity always wins,” he continued. “And that is the greatest comfort, isn’t it?”
I wasn’t entirely sure of his meaning, but I liked it, nonetheless.
He gestured toward the city while I listened, enraptured. “Man built all that, invented it, created it. And as remarkable as it all is, the stars were here first.” He took a deep breath. “They’re wiser.”
I stared at him with amazement, as if he were voicing ideas that had always stirred inside of me though I’d never put a name to them.
“Nature, God, whatever you want to call it—it’s bigger than us. Bigger and more powerful than anything we can do or dream.”
I nodded. “So you’re saying what will be, will be, not because we willed it, but because it was a part of a plan?”
“Yes, or a really good novel.”
I felt his gaze on my cheek, but I continued to stare at the night sky. “Then you believe this was all meant to happen? Everything in there, and us meeting like this tonight?”
He nodded. “I do.”
“And then what?”
“Well,” he replied, eyes fixed on mine. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll end up becoming your best friend or even…the love of your life.”
“Well, aren’t you presumptuous,” I said teasingly, while simultaneously noting the undeniable shift in my heart.
“Who knows,” he continued. “Maybe we’ll never see each other again, and this will be a pleasant memory.”
“Béarnaise sauce on my sleeve and all,” I added with a laugh.
He grinned at me. “I like a woman who can laugh at herself. It’s a rare trait.”
“Oh, is it?”
He nodded. “We English are much too serious. That’s why I decided to get a tattoo. But if you ever meet my mother, you must deny everything.”
“A tattoo?”
He paused and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt until his strong shoulder emerged, revealing what looked like the outline of a…violin.
I shook my head, astonished. “Do you play?”
“Never even picked up a bow, but I always wanted to have music in my ear.” He smiled. “Get it?”
I nodded. I’ll be the music in your ear. Even though he couldn’t hear my thoughts, my cheeks burned hot despite the cold air on my skin. When the wind picked up, I cinched his jacket around me a bit tighter.
He noticed, taking my discomfort as a cue to change the subject.
“So, how long do you plan to hide out here, exactly? A week? A month?”
I grinned. “As long as it takes.”
“If you’re waiting for the room to clear out, it won’t. I’m sure you’re aware that many of them have suites here and stay up late drinking and playing cards.” He registered my disappointment, then eyed the garden beneath the balcony. “Fortunately, I have a plan. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.”
My eyes widened as he led me to the left side of the railing.
“See that,” he exclaimed. “A ladder. The building is being reroofed this week. All you have to do is climb down, then you can sneak out the back. Voilà.”
“Voilà, except that I’m terrified of ladders. What if I slip?”
“My dear, what’s worse? This ladder or the wolves in there?”
I weighed my options, then nodded decisively. “I’ll take the ladder.”
“Good,” he said with a smile. “I’ll go first so I can help steady you from the ground.”