We clink the glasses together and each take a sip. Then Caleb retrieves the lobster-and-crab cups, and we dive in. As we eat, he tells me the agenda for the tour.
“We’re going to see everything from the Royal Albert Hall and Buckingham Palace to Big Ben and St. Paul’s Cathedral. And Tower Bridge and the Tower of London.”
“See, that was what I wanted on the drive earlier today!” I say excitedly. “But this is better because I get to share it all with you.”
He smiles at me, and it lights up his whole face. “I like that I get to be the first person to show you London.”
“And you’re really going to be here until you leave for Montreal?”
“Yes. I’ll fly out next Tuesday. Have you received your itinerary yet?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet. I have a meeting on Thursday morning, so I think I’ll get my next assignments and travel arrangements then.”
“I’m working out how we can see each other in Montreal,” Caleb says, wiping his lips with his napkin. “But I’ll get it sorted.”
“I can’t imagine being in the same place and not seeing you anywhere but at a function or on the track.”
“Same. So I’m working on it.” His jaw gets that determined set to it, and I have no doubt Caleb will find a way for us to be together in Montreal.
“Are you ready for a beef Wellington?” he asks.
“I’ve never had one, so yes.”
I watch as Caleb fixes me a plate and passes it to me. I pick up the handheld bite and taste it. “Oh my God, where has this been all my life?”
He flashes me a smile. “Good?”
“Very!”
We continue eating, and before long, the London I have dreamed of and seen on television comes into view. I see the old architecture blended with the new. “Oh!” I cry excitedly, looking out the window. “Kensington Gardens!”
“You saw the street sign, didn’t you?” Caleb teases.
I giggle. “Well, yes.”
The tour goes on, and I start to see amazing things. The Victoria and Albert Museum. Harrods. I feel Caleb lace his fingers through mine as he leans in and tells me everything I’m seeing. I marvel at Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, so beautiful lit up at night. I can’t get enough of the red double-decker buses, the black taxi cabs—just everything!
“Are you upset with the lack of car showrooms?” he jokes.
I turn and smile at him. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”
“Already picking up the lingo. Nice.”
“But I do have a question.”
“Go on.”
“Why so many chicken shops?” I ask. “And what kind of chicken is it? They’re like everywhere!”
Caleb stares blankly at me. “You mean the fried chicken shops?”
“Yes. You Brits must be obsessed with fried chicken. I noticed it this afternoon, and I’m seeing just as many now. What’s up with that?”
An amused grin passes over his face. “You know, I never thought about it.”
“So it’s where you go for fried chicken?”
“You have a strange interest in chicken shops.”