I pushed myself through the crowd to the street outside.
“Hi,” he said, his eyes big and longing.
“Hi.”
“And so, you’ve found me.”
All I could do was smile, and take in the sight of him. He looked dapper in a pair of slacks and a light green sweater. I wondered how I must have looked, with my hair askew and beads of sweat on my forehead.
“Scone?” he said, handing me a paper bag.
I nodded, even though I was too wound up to eat. My stomach—and heart—were in knots. I searched his face. “How did you…find me? How did you know I lived…here?”
He grinned conspiratorially. “I have my ways.”
“But…I left you a note—at the club. Why didn’t you come to Jack’s that day?”
He shook his head, obviously confused. “Jack’s?”
My heart sank when I realized. “You didn’t get it, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.” He took a step closer, so close I could feel the warmth of his skin in the air. The people outside the bakery were watching, but I didn’t care.
“Oh, Eloise. I don’t know what to say. I…thought you’d…vanished into thin air. It took a bit of detective work, but I found your telephone number, and I called, a few times.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I…never did get through.” He swallowed hard. “Listen, can we go someplace to talk?”
“Okay,” I said, still stunned.
We set out down the street, at first in silence, glancing over at each other every few moments. He slipped his strong hand in mine, and our aimless path led us to Edgemore Park, where we sat together on a bench. A group of rowdy schoolchildren was embroiled in a pine cone fight in the distance.
“I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” I said as a belligerent man ambled by. “I’m clearly not the daughter of a wealthy businessman.”
Edward grinned, lifting my hand to his lips, kissing my wrist the way he’d done on the night we met. “And you think I didn’t know that from the very start?”
“Was it that obvious?”
“You can never be anyone other than your true self, and I, for one, think you’re perfect.”
I frowned. “I’d hardly call my formative years perfect.”
He shook his head. “We aren’t defined by where we come from, but rather, who we are”—he paused to touch his heart—“inside.”
I smile. “Will you forgive me for my reprehensible fib?”
“I already have.” He exhaled deeply. “Listen, I’m sorry that things got off to a rocky start. I’d like to start over again, but properly this time.”
My mind raced, thinking of one roadblock after the next—the wedding plans, all of the meticulous preparations Frank had made. I rubbed the engagement ring on my finger nervously. I had to face the facts. “Edward, I’m…getting married, and…moving to America.”
He smiled as if this were a challenge he was willing to accept. “Well then, I’d like to implore you to stay, if I may be so presumptuous.”
I was on the verge of tears, though I couldn’t help but smile at his bravado. “But I saw you that night at Rhett’s Supper Club. I thought you were—”
“On a date? I was. With another dull debutante. She wasn’t you, Eloise. No one ever could be.”
I swallowed hard. “Oh, Edward, how I wish you would have found me sooner. How I wish…”
“But I’m here now,” he said, inching closer to take me into his arms. I felt as if I’d melted in his embrace. I’d dreamt of a moment like this since the day I first set eyes on him, and when his lips met mine, it was just as magical as I’d imagined it would be, and more. I’d found my hero, my love—every ounce of my being told me so. And yet…it was too late.
I pulled back from his kiss, forcing myself to look away. “Oh, Edward, I want this so much—more than anything.”
“And you can have it,” he said, offering me his hand, a symbol of now and, I knew, the future.
I shook my head as I wiped a falling tear from my cheek, then lightly placed my hand on my abdomen. Frank didn’t know yet, not even Millie. No one detected the tiny new life growing inside of me. It was my secret, and mine alone, but now it was Edward’s, too—our burden to bear.
“I see,” he said, releasing his gaze from mine and looking ahead into the distance.
I pressed my head against his shoulder, soaking his starched shirt with my tears. He wept, too, quietly, and I could feel him willing away his heart’s grip on mine. Time passed quickly in those final moments, but I tried to memorize every second. The angle of his nose. The faint shadow of stubble on his face. The way his hand caressed mine. And when it was time to go—Frank would be here in minutes, even—he kissed me once more.
I walked home alone, and found Millie crying on the sofa. I nestled in beside her. There were no words for a moment like this, so we bathed ourselves in silence—savoring our last minutes—before I walked numbly to my bedroom to finish packing. I’d already sorted through the books I’d be bringing to California, and those were neatly organized in my trunk. But I hadn’t gotten to my wardrobe yet, not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. There was no rhyme or reason to my selections. I merely emptied my drawers and threw in this dress or that. It was all a tangled, jumbled mess.
When I heard Frank’s driver honk on the street below, announcing his arrival, I heaved my luggage out to the entryway, then looked around the little flat a final time. Millie wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me so hard, it almost hurt.
“I’ll write you,” she cried. There was a strange tone to her voice, which I chalked up to grief. I was grieving, too.
My nod was merely mechanic. “Millie, I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” she said, wiping away a tear.
I opened the door to the hall closet and pointed to Edward’s jacket inside. “Keep this safe for me.”
“El, I don’t understand.”
I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them again, glancing at the door over my shoulder. “I can’t take it with me to California, but I don’t want to lose it either—ever.”
“What do you mean?”
“I know I’m not making any sense, but I don’t have time to explain.”
Millie nodded. “What’s his name?”
“Edward,” I said. The word flew out of my mouth. “Edward Sinclair.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
Tears stung my eyes. “I do, Mill. Oh, I do.”
She shook her head in confusion. “Then why—”
“It’s too late.” I bit my lip as Frank appeared on the stairs to help with my bags.
“Hello, darling,” he said, before waving to Millie, oblivious to the conversation that had just been cut short. “My driver says we might run into traffic getting to Heathrow, so we should hustle. We don’t want to lose those first-class seats.”
When Frank’s back was turned, Millie nodded to me. It was all I needed.
“Ready, my love?”