the middle of nowhere. [honey]

At least it wasn't as bad at turning thirty.

A few years ago, Will had suffered his first quarter life crisis. He hadn't slept, he was distracted, he'd been dreading his birthday. It was probably because he wasn't "accomplished" enough - no wife, no kids, no real achievements to speak of. Looking back, it was all a bit ridiculous. The day passed, surrounded by friends and family and now that he was turning thirty two tomorrow, Will had just eased into the groove.

Sitting at a table by the window in his favourite little cafe in Bloomsbury, a book was open in front of him as he watched the world trundle by. It was a grey day, overcast and cool, a hint of rain catching on the breeze that swayed the trees just starting to bloom. The cafe was warm but not so busy, save the occasional gaggle of tourists who bounced in with maps and excited voices. Will smiled gently. It was another sign of him growing up. He'd loathed Americans once, nowadays, he tended to tolerate them.

Will settled in his seat, legs crossed at the ankles, a cup of tea that was rapidly cooling sitting on a saucer, the menu unopened. He knew what he was going to have and it was the same thing he always ordered - a full English with French toast, because he never could decide between sweet and savoury. As it was his birthday weekend, he toyed with the idea of getting pancakes as well, with that little berry compote thingy he liked.

He turned the page of his book absentmindedly before he looked up and caught sight of a familiar shock of red hair through the window. Excitedly, he waved at Honey as she drew closer, wiggling his fingers before standing up to greet her as she walked through the door.

"Hello," he said warmly as he leaned across the table to loop an arm around her neck and pull her into a hug. This was nice, their arrangement. It was a lot easier and less complicated than their short lived "friends with benefits" situation or whatever the kids called it these days. Will liked Honey. They didn't always see eye to eye but he'd decided early on that he'd rather have her in his life in some capacity than not at all.

"How are you?" Will asked quickly, gesturing for the redhead to sit before sitting down himself. This had quickly become their cafe when they were together but that wasn't why they still visited. The cafe really did have a wonderfully gooey grilled cheese sandwich on the menu.


@Honey Bea Flume

Honey had put on a fresh jumper (et al.) after work yesterday evening, before coming to London--hadn’t worn it very long, either--and had brushed her teeth after having a couple biscuits; late morning now, she didn’t think she looked like she was coming from anywhere but home, at least. Maida Vale wasn’t close to Bloomsbury so she apparated from the stoop with a neat little pop. (And even if it were close, she would have gotten lost if she had attempted to walk or take the tube, and she was already running a few minutes late, distracted.)

She didn’t want to make things weird with Will. Again. She was comfortable talking about him moving on (especially after getting everything related to their exes behind them), encouraging it even, but she thought she was right to assume he wouldn’t be as cool about it the other way around. They’d gone a fair few months of being friends, and it was going well, and she got to see Dave on occasion, which was a bonus. But rather than go to any sort of larger birthday thing--she had avoided asking if he was planning anything, hoping to avoid being invited if he was because that would be weird, right?--she had proposed brunch, at that cafe near his house they both liked.

Her first stop was a bookstore around the corner; she had phoned ahead to ask after books about Florence, had been recommended The Rise and Fall of the House of Medici. It seemed wholly uninteresting as she flipped through it, but it was the thought behind it that was better, surely-- the one trip they had taken together had been to Italy, and it had ended up being fun. Nice. The book was wrapped in brown paper, looking lackluster next to the box of chocolates--white chocolate with a bergamot essence, orange nougat, candied orange peels--she was also bringing him.

Will was already there, and Honey waved back with her free hand as she spotted him. “Hi.” She was pulled into a hug and she returned it enthusiastically--would have pulled him into one if he hadn’t beaten her to it--her arm around his waist, her hand between his shoulder blades. She pressed her cheek against his and kissed the air; she was in a good mood.

She pulled back, smiling, setting the presents on the table and hanging her bag on the back of her chair before she sat. “Great, how are you?” She was a little out of breath because she had walked from the bookshop, and she waited a beat before adding: “Happy birthday.” She raised her eyebrows quickly before pulling a menu toward her, opening it and closing it in quick succession; she knew what she was getting, and it was the same as every time she was there; nutella stuffed french toast, extra cream on the top. “Am starving,” she announced, unnecessarily.

Honey waited another beat before pushing the two packages across the table, with another smile. “Go on.”

"I'm well, thank you," Will answered the question with an easy smile, the dimple in his left cheek appearing. He was pleased that they were meeting. He'd been looking forward to it. Honey's life seemed so much more interesting than his, she was a lot more interesting than a lot of people he'd met recently. He wanted to hear all about Honeydukes and how Fergie was. Will had really been meaning to ask her brother for a drink and they were at a level now where things weren't as cripplingly awkward. Will thought he'd be able to ask about her parents without things being uncomfortable...he hoped.

"Thanks," he said with a grin, the tips of his ears turning pink in embarrassment. Every birthday, there was always a faint panic that arose within him; he didn't know what to do when people sang to him. He'd insisted that he was too old for all of that now, but it never stopped his mother. It had been thirty years of not knowing where to look and wearing an expression that seemed as though he was constipated.

"Me too," Will quickly agreed with Honey, his dark eyes wide. Now that she was on the same wavelength when it came to brunch, he decided he was going to order more toast. It was the good type - thickly cut, perfectly golden and slathered with butter.

"Hm?" He asked, distracted, before he noticed the presents and he blushed deeply. "Oh wow," he laughed. "You didn't have to do that," he protested despite eagerly pulling them towards him across the table. Unabashedly, Will ripped open the brown paper as a book fell onto his lap. "Ooh," he cooed as he turned it over, his handsome face lighting up as he read the title. He flicked his eyes up to Honey and offered her a wide smile. It reminded him of Florence. They'd had a nice time together but he hadn't swept anyone else off on holiday since.

"I love this," he gushed as he delicately ran his fingers over the ornate cover, visibly brimming with excitement. Will was the type of man who had a favourite member of the Italian banking dynasty (Cosimo the first, obvs) but this was really special.

"Ooh," Will gasped as he eyed the chocolates. "Flippin' heck," he laughed as he looked at Honey quickly, fingers itching to open the box of choccies but managed to refrain. Had she made these especially for him? He didn't deserve that. "These are wonderful," he gushed, genuinely touched by her gifts, his eyes back on the chocolate box as his head spun. "Thank you," he told her as he neatly stacked his gifts, chocolates on the bottom and book on top, as he focused his attention back on her.

A waitress arrived and Will placed his order, along with the extra toast, and let Honey do the same. "What's new?" He asked Honey, his eyes bright as he picked up his cup of tea and took a sip. "Mum asked about you," he rolled his eyes goodnaturedly. "She said she saw you over in Westminster the other day," he shrugged. "She must've been mistaken."

Honey shrugged when Will told her she didn’t have to get him a present; it was a birthday brunch, so she kind of did have to. (Also, she wanted to.) His ooh was the good sort so she smiled, relieved he didn’t immediately find the book boring like she had. And if he did find it boring later, at least he might realize it had a Florence connection— she didn’t know it was obvious from the title.

But he loved it now, he said, and she smirked softly as he met her eye. “I’m glad.” As perfect as she thought the gift was, it had taken some time to figure out; she had been so close to just giving up and buying him a scarf. The better gift was the chocolate, anyway. She was a little offended he wasn’t going to try one now, and not just because she needed the validation. She wanted his opinion on them, thinking she might sell them at the shop. But there would be plenty of time for that, later. “You’re welcome,” she said simply, still smiling.

She ordered her French toast (and a mocha), shrugged when Will asked her what was new. “Nothing, really.” Easter had been a few weeks past, but that wasn’t news; that happened every year. Fergie had moved his girlfriend into his flat a few days ago but Honey had some choice opinions on that whole situation so she didn’t feel much like talking about it. Besides, his mum had asked about her.

Honey returned the eye roll, though she was somewhat reassured. This was why she was keeping things simple between them— her mum had only recently stopped asking about Will; she could only hope Will’s mum was asking for good reasons, hope he hadn’t told her about any of the more unfortunate circumstances of their relationship. But he mentioned Westminster, and Honey’s eyes went wide for half a second before she got ahold of herself, shrugging it off as casually as she could. “Might’ve been me.”

The waitress returned with her coffee, and Honey had a sip (and wiped whipped cream from her top lip) before she went on, leaning in a little. “Catching a portkey,” she explained, figuring he would ask. She wanted to know if his mum said anything else—had she seen Honey with anyone?—but she didn’t want to ask. This was why she liked planning things in advance, even a few hours before, give themselves time to stagger their portkeys. (Never mind she should have been more worried about going places with people— or one person, in particular.)

She tucked her hair behind her ears before she picked up her coffee again. “How’s your mum?” She asked, changing the subject instead.

Nothing was new, Honey had said, and Will nodded. He could relate. He hadn't done anything drastic since the last time they'd met. Dave had stolen his owner's cheese on toast, scarfed it, then threw up on the living room carpet; that was the most exciting thing to happen. It was too early for chocolate (who cared?) but it was his birthday brunch. Picking the box up, he carefully opened it and took his time in selecting one.

He opted for the one in the left corner, despite them all being the same type, and took a bite. "Mm!" Will exclaimed, his dark eyes wide as he nodded eagerly. "'S really good," Will told Honey through a mouthful, tapping his fingers against the table top in excitement before he swallowed. He honestly didn't care if he was her guinea pig. He'd do it all day long. He held the box out to her. He was half tempted to drop a chocolate into his tea and use it rather than sugar but that would be plain disrespectful.

"Oh?" He asked conversationally, head tilted with a smile. Maybe Honey was spending more time in London. It was a vibrant, multicultural city and he adored it. Will wanted to move out of the hustle and bustle but his relationship with the capital was like an elastic band - it stretched but it always snapped back to him.

"Oh," Will said again, softer this time. "Anywhere nice?" He asked Honey brightly, wondering if she was perhaps taking a well earned and overdue holiday. So, his mum had seen her. Will wasn't sure why she'd decided to tell him. She didn't mention any of his other ex girlfriends in the way she did with Honey. He scratched his nose as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge. It wasn't exactly a can of worms but he still didn't want to open it.

"She's really well," Will smiled. "She's been threatening to retire for about six months now but we all know if she did, she'd end up killing my dad," he added with a good-natured grimace. He picked up his tea cup and wrapped his long fingers around the warm china, taking a sip. "Your mum and dad okay?" He asked, sounding like an afterthought but he was fond of the Flumes. He was always a bit jealous of them living their best life in Spain.

 He wanted to know why Honey was in London if she wasn't here to see him. Did he have an inflated sense of self? Probably. It was also none of his business, or his mother's but goodness, did he want to know. "I promise she's not stalking you," he joked, just in case he'd (again) made things awkward.

Will was happy with the chocolates, and Honey took one when it was offered, popping the whole thing into her mouth and chewing, waiting until her mouth was (mostly) empty before talking again.

She shrugged off his question about her portkey destination, though she was still thinking about what her answer would have been if she hadn’t preferred being cagey about it. It had been nice, but saying she had gone to Whitby for an afternoon to have fish and chips without any witnesses sounded a little… not ideal. And it wouldn’t have sounded any better if she tried to frame it like she had gone alone; Will knew her better than to think she’d willingly got anywhere in England without a good reason, and going to the chippy didn’t exactly qualify as good.

There had been other things, after the chips, but that brought her right back around to not talking to Will about her moving on without him, not wanting to make things between them weird again. “It’s just easier than apparating sometimes, getting things home from Diagon Alley.” And that was true, technically.

Honey smiled because his mum was well, though-- and because she was good at changing the subject. She laughed--politely, she thought--at the idea of his mum retiring, unable to remember what his mum did for a living and hoping she wouldn’t suddenly be quizzed on it. But then he asked about her parents, and that was much easier to talk about. “They’re great, aye.” She picked up her coffee, but stopped short of taking a sip. “They keep threatening to move back if we don’t visit more often, but--” she lifted her shoulders in a quick shrug-- “It’s a hollow threat.” She rolled her eyes. “We all went to the farm last month and they kept going on about the rain.”

She sipped her coffee finally, perfectly timing it with Will insisting his mum wasn’t stalking her. She coughed--that was unexpected--and set her mug down. “I didn’t think she was.” But clearly Will was still thinking about her catching a portkey. Just because she never took one when they were dating--not that she was dating anyone now, of course--didn’t mean he had to be suspicious about it. “How are things with Ros?” She asked suddenly, a more obvious attempt than her last to change the subject.

Will hadn’t mentioned Ros to her yet, and probably for good reason. Fergie had told her, as well as how it was a ‘fake’ relationship, outright accusing Honey for making it happen--you broke Will, had been his exact words--which had led Honey to tell Fergie about all the extended drama with Will’s most recent relationship. Needless to say, she had yet to bring it up to Will, out of something resembling kindness, but that could only last for so long.

Honey didn't give him a destination when he'd asked her. Of course, she was under no obligation to, so he nodded politely. "Smart," he said sagely, though he wondered what she could get in London that she couldn't in Scotland. Will half wished that she'd spit it out but instead, he took a bite out of another chocolate. It wasn't like he was dying to know what (or who) Honey was doing in the capital but he had the sneaking suspicion she wasn't being totally honest.

He couldn't blame her. Will had the tendency to become really weird, really fast. Someone called him a try hard once and it stuck. He did too much; he was too fast, too strong, too insistent and he didn't know when to quit. He needed to chill out, to be more elusive and hard to get. All the things that all of the Dashers lacked.

Still, he laughed. "That's wonderful," he smiled before his dimples appeared. Both Honey and Fergie had full time jobs and Will had the horrible feeling that both Flumes would sunburn almost instantly as they stepped into the Spanish sun. The comment about the rain made him snort. "I bet they're just kidding." Rain was comforting, like pie and mash or ready salted crisps. Will wasn't sure he'd ever be able to move to the Balearics for those reasons alone.

His dark eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Thirteen minutes. It was a new record. Will had ruined everything in less than a quarter of an hour. Rather than insist that his mum wasn't keeping tabs on the redhead, he took a gulp of his tea and it was his turn to choke on it.

Will froze. Oh God. What was he supposed to do? The tips of his ears turned pink in embarrassment as Honey found out about his sham relationship. The panic rose in his chest and he was forced to place his cup down, lest he drop it due to his sweaty palms. He was clearly mental. He'd thought "pretend dating" Roslyn was an ideal situation - it got his family off his back, he didn't have to go anywhere alone, he looked like he wasn't lonely and had his shit together - but now sitting in front of Honey, it must look unbelievably pitiful.

Will cleared his throat. "It's not really "a thing"," he told Honey, using his forefingers to emphasise air quotes. "She was just helping me out of a couple of tight situations," he went on, without explaining anything. It was just convenient. Will supposed he could bring a random woman to events but with Ros, she was the consummate professional. And he did genuinely like her. She was smart and funny and effervescent and kind and sparkly and lovely and --

"It's winding down," he eventually confessed. Moving on wasn't from a lack of trying, no matter what anyone thought. Will was out every weekend, at bars and pubs and cafes and parks and museums, anywhere that he could feasibly meet a lady. It was frustrating at first but then it steadily became disheartening. He decided to chalk it up to bad luck instead of his crippling personality flaws.

Swiftly, he fixed Honey with a look, his full lips down turned in a frown. "How'd you find out?" He asked, sounding interested instead of annoyed. He just hoped she hadn't gotten wind of his "episode" last month where he'd temporarily lost his mind and flirted with a woman, taken her home and then out for breakfast the next morning at a cafe where her boyfriend was also dining. There was a lot of shouting and screaming and Will simply got his breakfast to go and slipped out of the door before things really kicked off. The secondhand embarrassment made him wince in his seat.

Mentioning Ros might not have been the best idea, but it had its intended effect; Will stopped asking Honey questions about herself, about what she was doing in her free time. Will put his cup down and Honey picked hers up, taking a sip as she watched him over the rim. Merlin, did he look uncomfortable-- that wasn’t really what she had been going for. Maybe she had overshot her deflection, just a little.

It wasn’t really a thing, he said, and Honey raised her eyebrows like it was the first time she was hearing anything about this. She set her cup down after another second, turning the handle toward her so she could wrap her hands around the cup more comfortably. Tight situations, he said, and it took every little bit of willpower she had to not make a tight situation joke, because it was right there. But more importantly-- what situation warranted pretending to have a girlfriend? Even with her mum on her case about grandchildren, Honey hadn’t gone as far as getting that desperate.

Maybe desperate wasn’t the right word. She knew she ought to give Will the benefit of the doubt.

It was winding down, and Will didn’t look like he was pretending to be a little put out about it. “Oh,” Honey said, dumbly, not knowing what else she could--or should--say. It was a pity she hadn’t asked about it sooner; she might have been able to get more details out of him. Fergie had told her about it ages ago, but it had never felt right to bring it up. She glanced down at her hands as she turned her mug on the spot, one finger pushing it along by its handle.

As a friend who didn’t know Ros had been a fake girlfriend--or still was, if it was still in the process of winding down--she probably should have already asked it he was alright. But Will was more interested in how she knew. “Er--” This wasn’t quite as awkward as when he had been asking about how she knew about Harlan and Bérénice but she didn’t want to think Fergie was as much of a gossip as he really was. Somehow she didn’t think Will would believe her if Ros told her, however, so--”Ros told Fergie.” Will could fill in the blanks about how the info got to Honey after that.

“I think he was worried,” she said honestly, because Fergie had accused Honey of driving him to fake relationships. “Why is it winding down?” She asked, genuinely curious. Had the season of tight situations passed?

Honey's oh made him smile quickly. It wasn't as though he didn't want to talk about it - if Will had an actual girlfriend, he'd be shouting it from the rooftops and that might have been the problem - he was simply embarrassed. It was a bit pathetic. He was thirty two. He was far too old to be lying about his relationship status. He really did want to tell the redhead that he was fine, that he was happy and healthy, and while that was mostly true, it really was lame.

"Oh."

Will blinked his dark eyes. Roslyn had been the informant. Had she known that he'd dated Fergie's sister? If the Auror had, Will was sure her intention was not malicious. It wasn't worth having a fight about, especially not since things were ending, but he couldn't help but feel slighted. If a fake relationship was going to work, people needed to believe it was real. Falling silent momentarily, he sipped his tea and wondered what was actually wrong with him.

Flicking his eyes over to Honey, Will gave a warm laugh. "That's nice," he admitted. "Tell him I'm fine the next time you see him," he added, knowing full well it could be months before he'd see the youngest Flume sibling.

Clearing his throat, the publisher looked down at the gifted book as he read (and reread) the blurb on the back. This was affecting him more than he thought it was. Not only was he embarrassed that his secret was out, he felt a bit...weird. Will had some years on Fergie but the Scotsman seemed to have his shit together. It was an admirable trait. One impossible not to be envious over, really. And here Will was, running around playing silly buggers like a seven year old.

The chatter of the cafe helped to fill in the silences he'd left as he sipped his rapidly cooling tea before Honey's question made him blink. "Hm?" Will asked stupidly. "It was time sensitive," he answered her. "A couple of months, just enough to get us through the bulk of the weddings and parties and stuff," he went on with a wave of his hand. They hadn't agreed on stretching it out until summer because no one wanted to be single in the warmer months. They needed to find someone else.

"And neither of us are really interested in pursuing things properly," Will announced. That wasn't technically true. He did like Roslyn. She was funny, smart, kind, warm, pretty but he'd suggested (a few times) that they meet up outside of their prearranged slots and she'd always deftly side-stepped the questions. Will wasn't thick, he was well aware of when women weren't interested but that didn't make it any less painful. He knew when to quit while he wasn't ahead.

He wasn't being self-deprecating. He was an actual dating force field; he repelled women.  "If I pretend to date Roslyn," he went on, offering the waitress a smile of thanks as their food was deposited, "I can't properly date anyone else, can I?" He smiled at Honey before he cut into his poached egg and watched as the yolk seeped out onto his toast. "I'm not great on my own," he admitted with a soft smile before he dipped his toast into the egg. "I will be, though," he assured Honey with a thumbs up before he promptly dropped the toast into the beans with a splatter. If that wasn't the universe telling him otherwise, then he didn't know what was.

Honey tilted her chin in a slight nod; she’d tell Fergie he was fine. Except maybe she wouldn’t because her brother didn’t know she was friends with her ex and she didn’t fancy hearing his opinions about it once he did.

She asked him why it was winding down and his answer didn’t make too much sense. It was time sensitive? Oh, they had only planned for a few months to get through weddings and parties--weren’t summer weddings a huge thing? She didn’t ask--and it did not sound like he thought that she thought it was a genuine relationship. She went back over what she had said-- she hadn’t said anything to hint that she knew it was fake. Had her face given her away?

Will added that he wasn’t interested in pursuing it properly, so aye, he definitely didn’t think Honey thought it was real. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she listened, though she was trying her best to not let her expression give anything else away, like how she was thinking, shit, now what?. At least she could understand not wanting to pursue things properly. “I get that.” Genuinely; it was the story of her life, right?

She went for a sympathetic look as he went on about pretending to date Roslyn, frowning slightly just in time for the food to arrive. Honey thought that would be his cue to stop--she wanted to stuff her face with French toast--but no. He went on about how he fake dated Ros so he didn’t have to really date anyone else. She opened her mouth to ask: didn’t he want to properly date anyone? Hadn’t that been the problem with them? He wasn’t Honey; Will didn’t do casual. Or was that why it was winding down? Because he did want to properly date someone.

There was a brief moment of panic that she was the someone, but surely this would be a lot weirder if it was her. And it was weird. Honey knew he didn’t want reassurance that he was great on his own, knew he wouldn’t believe her if she said it. She didn’t know if she believed it, either.

She attempted to make things a little less weird, as best as she could, anyway. “Right, well, if you do need a date for something--” Honey motioned to herself with her fork. She assumed he would go to a wedding with her if she asked, and she was almost sure she would do the same for him.

Will draped a napkin over his lap as he attempted to repair the damage done to the beans before he let out a forlorn sigh and scratched the tip of his nose. He liked Honey. He respected her and her opinion but he didn't want to be a downer, especially not when his birthday was going to be shitty regardless. He also didn't want to lie to her. The redhead wasn't stupid. Will had no qualms (well, maybe one or two) about hearing about her lovelife but wasn't going to ask. Talk about coming on too strong.

Taking a bite out of his toast and chasing it with a sip of tea, he met her gaze and smiled - genuinely this time, dimples and all. "Or dogsitting," he countered as he cut into his egg, the yolk oozing out perfectly. Dave loved Honey. She wouldn't last two minutes before the wolfhound would attempt to knock her over.

Will chewed in silence for a moment, his eyes on the book and the chocolates as he wondered what was fundamentally wrong with him. He was an absolute dickhead, he really was. How he'd ended up here, he wasn't quite sure. He'd done a bit of soul searching but he hadn't liked what he'd found, so he'd promptly stopped.

The silence that fell over them was comfortable and companionable. "There's this book thing at the Ministry in a couple of months," Will announced as he dunked his toast into his beans. "It'd mean a lot if you could come for a few hours," he smiled at Honey, taking her up on the previous offer. "It might be boring but I think someone told me there's a free bar," he nodded in thought. Decorum stated a glass of red wine at such events but Will really wanted a martini.

"I'm taking some time off," Will announced to Honey out of the blue.. He'd decided to take an overdue gap year. He hadn't really taken many holidays, except for when he went to Greece for Christmas and New Year. He'd really enjoyed being somewhere new where nobody knew him and he could feel the sand between his toes. "Or will be in a few weeks," he added with a wry smile. They both knew that Holiday Will was a lot more fun than London Will.

London was in his blood but he was wondering more and more of late if it was really for him. He adored the city; the vibrancy, the history, the architecture, he was even oddly fond of the neighbourhood rats, but he felt less and less like he belonged here. "I'm considering selling up."

Honey offered to be his date--and not a fake one, either--and Will countered with dogsitting. “Or that,” she agreed, puzzled but not about to argue. If he needed someone to watch Dave so he could get out there and get some, Honey would be happy to help. She was really good at this friends thing, and getting better. But that hadn’t been what she was offering, and she thought she had been clear, pointing at herself and saying if you need a date-- he’d go out with Ros and not with her? It was hard not to be offended she was being given the role of dogsitter.

She ate a few more bites of her french toast--targeting the ones that had the most nutella--as she decided not to push him on it. He had already jumped to conclusions when all she asked was how are things with Ros? and Merlin knew what he would jump to if she badgered him about some hypothetical wedding they could go to together.

But then he mentioned a book thing at the Ministry in a couple months; Honey raised her eyebrows, trying to think a few months ahead--July or August, no major holidays to worry about for work--before he even finished inviting her. “I could do that.” She could worry about Fergie and his opinions about her and Will later, if it was that sort of Ministry thing. Will said it’d be boring and Honey grinned; whatever a book thing was, she was sure he was right. “Free bar’s good,” she said truthfully, before she had another bite of toast.

Honey sipped her mocha, set her mug down with a, “Yeah?” It felt like he had literally just taken time off for Christmas, but she realized after a second that had been four months ago--and not everyone lived for their work like Honey did. “Where to?” She was already picturing him somewhere sunny, half-dressed-- it was a shame their one shared holiday had been to Florence, in autumn. It was picturesque, but she could certainly think of a few ways it could have been better.

She ate another bite, her eyebrows going up again when he mentioned selling up. “Really?” That was less believable than the holiday. She didn’t think he meant he wanted to move somewhere else in London--his townhouse was perfect, and he lived above his business, which everyone knew was the ideal living arrangement. So that must mean-- but Will was actually from London. “I mean, I get it.” Honey had never really liked London, had never made much of an effort to visit until she found herself with a succession of Londoners to sleep with.

“I hear Scotland’s nice,” she added helpfully.