Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,78

back and more comfortable around her stomach. Mom adjusted pockets, zippers, buttons, added magnets in some cases—everything had to be pain-free and easy to get on, but still cute.”

“I never thought—I guess I take getting dressed in the morning for granted.”

“I know, right? We all do. But Mom made sure all of Sarah’s stuff was comfy, functional, and stylish. Little girls can be so picky about what they wear!”

“There were battles?” asked Tarquin.

Leia laughed. “You have no idea! But seeing Sarah regain some independence made them all worth it. Some people say fashion is superficial, but they couldn’t be more wrong. We’re happier, more confident—ready to take on the world when we feel good in what we’re wearing, and helping Saz introduced me to my passion for upcycling. I still make most of her clothes and offer adaptive pieces in every collection. I also do custom work and alterations for clients with disabilities, too.”

“Wow. All because of your sister.”

“Yeah. I’d do anything for that girl—including shopping during a blackout on New Year’s Eve—” Something fuzzy rubbed against Leia’s ankle. Oh? She glanced down. “Your cat! Mrs…”

“Chuzzlewit.” Tarquin scooped up the chubby tabby, cuddling her on his lap. “My little tiger. Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yeah.” Leia let the feline sniff her hand. “It’s a good thing you showed up, Mrs. Chuzzlewit because I was beginning to think your owner made you up.”

“Oh, she’s just a tad standoffish. I don’t think her previous person treated her very well.”

I know that feeling.

“That’s why I give her everything.” He kissed his pet on the head. “She’s worth it, aren’t you, my beauty?”

Aw, he genuinely adores her. The cat pressed her fuzzy face against Leia’s hand, begging to be scratched. And I can see why—she’s a total love bug. Leia gently rubbed behind her stripy ears, and the tabby squirmed out of Tarquin’s grasp, leaping onto her lap. Mrs. Chuzzlewit closed her butterscotch eyes, and her rumbly symphony of purrs grew loud as they vibrated against Leia’s thigh.

“I think you’ve got another fan. See, even Chuzza wants you to stay.”

“Oh, I see the plan now! Hey cat, did your owner put you up to this?” Leia happily scratched Mrs. Chuzzlewit’s shoulders. I’m so conflicted. The way Tarquin reacted to my scars, the accident, Sarah’s story… he didn’t glaze over or change the subject. He listened, asked questions. He really cared. She glanced up at him, his warm smile easy and brimming with adoration. I can’t deny it—he’s lovely. If I lived here, if I was looking for something serious—if I wasn’t scared—he’d be perfect. She grinned back but pulled away, ruffling the cat’s ears. But I can’t have my heart shattered again. Even the sweetest guys don’t come with a guarantee. “I’d love to hang out, Tarquin, really, but Shantelle’s gown won’t sew itself. I really should get a move on.”

“Oh, no worries. I’ll drive you to Islington.”

“You really don’t want to work today, do you?” Leia smirked.

“I hate the boss. He’s a right bastard.”

A laugh burst through her lips. “Well, I can’t help you with that!” She gave Mrs. Chuzzlewit one last pet. “I appreciate your offer—you’re such a sweetheart—but the Tube’s fine.”

Tarquin lifted his cat from Leia’s lap and set her gently on the floor. “How about we meet up later, then—grab a bite?”

I was gonna work late on Shantelle’s gown, try to finish it.

He glanced down, catching the tabby weaving back and forth between Leia’s calves. “I know we agreed not to do date-like things, but you’re leaving in two days! Let me treat you to dinner.” He looked up, a visible swallow bobbing his throat. “How ’bout it, Ms. Frill-Seekers? Say goodbye to London in style?”

“And break my own rules?” Leia scratched behind the cat’s ears. But with me leaving in forty-eight hours, do rules matter anymore? Dinner would be nice. And really, am I going to say no to my last chance to see Tarquin in—and hopefully, out of—a bespoke suit? She sat back. “Okay, on one condition…can we go to that OXO restaurant you mentioned before? I Googled it and the view looks amazing.”

Tarquin winked. “You’re in the driver’s seat, Ginger!”

Sixteen

TARQUIN

“It’s Victorian? Hm. And on Sylvester Path in Hackney?” Phone glued to his ear, Tarquin leaned against his office window high up in the Shard, his bird’s-eye view taking in London Bridge, Borough Market, and, far off in the crisp early-afternoon sunshine, the London Eye and Big Ben. Immaculately groomed and clean-shaven, he had chosen his navy three-piece suit with