Chapter 12

London had started to feel like home. The crisp morning air, the bustle of the streets, the quiet corners of cafés where I’d sit and sketch while sipping strong tea—it all slowly became part of a rhythm I hadn’t realized I’d missed. A rhythm that was mine.

Work was surprisingly exciting, especially in a place that respected me—not as someone’s wife or a background shadow, but as a designer with her own voice. And Parker… well, he was half the reason I smiled when I got up every morning.

He didn’t hover. He didn’t try too hard. But he was there—always ready with a warm cup of coffee during late-night design crunches, or a sarcastic joke to pull me out of a stressful moment. Sometimes, he’d pause behind my workstation, studying a sketch over my shoulder.

“You know this silhouette?” he’d ask, tapping the paper. “It’s better than our last campaign’s lead piece.”

Later that evening, after the office had cleared out, Parker passed by my desk as I was packing up.

“Busy night ahead?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Just me and leftover pasta,” I said with a shrug, slipping my sketchpad into my tote. “Living the glamorous post-divorce life.”

He chuckled. “That sounds tragic. We should fix that.”

I raised a brow. “What, are you suggesting pasta and wine?”

He grinned. “I was thinking wine and tapas. There’s a quiet little spot down the street—you’ll like it. No fashion talk. Just food. And maybe a little sarcasm.”

I laughed despite myself. “You had me at tapas.”

The restaurant was dimly lit and warm, with small round tables and flickering candles. We sat by a window, sharing plates of garlic prawns and grilled vegetables, sipping Rioja between bites.

“This is nice,” I said, easing back in my chair. “I almost forgot what it felt like to eat out with someone who actually asks about your day.”

“Well, your day included being called a genius,” he smirked.

I rolled my eyes. “You set me up for that.”

“I meant every word,” he said, his voice softer now.

I met his gaze.

There was something easy about being with Parker. No pretense. No power play. Just two people finding joy in good food and good timing.

And for the first time in a long while—I let myself enjoy it.

Not long after, I received a call. Alex’s mother.

I hesitated before answering, but curiosity (and maybe a sliver of affection) won.

“Lindsey,” she said softly, “how are you, my dear?”

“I’m doing okay,” I replied, glancing out the window at the glowing London skyline. “Settling in.”

“I’m glad. I wanted to let you know… well, it seems Alex and Sasha have been falling apart. He’s become a mess. Drinking, disappearing for days. Apparently, Sasha’s furious because all he talks about is you.”

I didn’t even flinch.

“He deserves it,” I said calmly. “They both do.”

“I agree,” she said without hesitation. “But you don’t have to worry about them anymore. That chapter is closed.”

I smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

“And,” she added, “speaking of new chapters—about the men…”

I laughed. “Oh no.”

“Hear me out! I have someone in mind. He’s in London too. He’s charming, brilliant, respectful, and I trust him. He’s my late friend’s godson.”

“I don’t know, I’m not really…”

“Please? Just dinner. I swear you’ll like him. He’s the kind of man you should have ended up with.”

She had been so kind to me through everything—it felt wrong to say no.

“…Alright,” I said. “Just dinner.”

Later that evening, I clocked out from work. As I was gathering my things, Parker walked over, jacket in hand.

“Big plans tonight?”

“Sort of.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Date?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Kind of a setup.”

He smiled, though something in his expression faltered. “Ah, blind date. That explains the sudden lipstick.”

I smirked. “Hey, I always wear lipstick.”

“No, you don’t.”

I laughed as I slipped on my coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Unless you fall in love tonight.”

“Not likely.”

The restaurant was charming—dimly lit, cozy, tucked along a quiet London side street. I arrived ten minutes early, nerves buzzing in my stomach. I wasn’t even sure what I was expecting. A stranger in a suit. Maybe someone too serious. Someone not Parker.

I sat at a small table near the window, watching as people passed by.

And then the door opened.

My breath hitched.

Parker.

He blinked, equally startled. “Lindsey?”

I stood, half-laughing, half-shocked. “Wait… you’re the guy?”

He let out a low laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Apparently.”

We stared at each other for a moment, then laughed again—loudly this time, drawing glances from nearby tables.

“I swear I didn’t plan this,” he said, still chuckling.

“Neither did I,” I replied, smiling wide now. “Your godmother?”

“My late godmother’s best friend. She said she knew someone incredible who needed a fresh start. Guess she wasn’t wrong.”