Miles jumped up. Thank God he was still taller than the boy, though not by much.

“It’s not throwing away my future! I’m investing in my future! I know what I want my future to be, and this is how to get there—not some stuffy lecture hall or library.”

Malcolm sighed.

“I know that’s how you feel right now, but you have to be strategic about your career—this is your life you’re talking about, not just next year. Oxford can set you up for the rest of your life; you and I both know that.”

Miles threw his arms in the air. He really had gotten his flair for drama from his mother, hadn’t he?

“My life? Who knows how long my life will be! My father died when he was thirty-eight; no one can say how many years I have left. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing something I’m not passionate about—I want to enjoy every moment. I can’t believe you want me to give up on my dream!”

Malcolm took a deep breath. And then another one.

“Miles. I don’t want you to give up on your dream. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you need to think logically about this. And while I sympathize with your feelings about your father, you need to plan for the long haul. You worked so hard to get into Oxford, and a degree there can help pave the way for so many things for the rest of your life. You can’t and you won’t throw that away.”

Miles shoved the peeler down the table.

“I’m nineteen years old. I’m a grown man. You can’t tell me what to do. Neither can my mother.”

Malcolm laughed out loud.

“You’re a grown man? At nineteen years old? I have some news for you—you’re still a child, and you’re acting like one.”

“I am not!” Miles stamped to the other side of the kitchen. “You’re just mad because you wanted me to go to Oxford to follow in your footsteps, then go work in some stuffy office somewhere and shuffle papers all day, just like you do. I don’t want to be like you. I want to live my life! You’ve never had any dreams; you don’t know what it’s like to have them, unless your dream was to be at the beck and call of that old woman!” He stopped by the door. “I thought you were better than this. I trusted you! But you’re just like all the rest.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, and a few seconds later, Malcolm heard the front door slam. He dropped his head in his hands.

Chapter Nine

Malcolm walked into the lobby of The Goring hotel at 11:55 a.m. on December 28. He’d realized the day before that he and Vivian hadn’t communicated since those quick texts early on Christmas Day, so he’d texted her and arranged to meet her at her hotel at noon. He’d been so consumed with everything going on with Miles that he hadn’t thought of it until then.

Miles hadn’t come back home on Christmas Day until after Malcolm had left. Malcolm was pretty sure Miles had spent the day at his girlfriend’s house, but he had no idea. And to top it all off, Sarah had also been furious at him—she’d apparently been counting on him to make the situation with Miles better, not worse. He’d spent days getting angry texts from her, all of which just served to make him more frustrated and upset about this whole situation.

Malcolm knew he should have handled the conversation with Miles differently. He didn’t think he’d ever yelled like that at Miles in his life. But he’d been so shocked and blindsided, he hadn’t been able to think straight.

He sighed. He’d spent his whole career—maybe his whole life—successfully avoiding conflict. He’d even managed to have a conflict-free divorce, for God’s sake! And he’d somehow blown that all up in one conversation.

He just hoped he could put this whole thing out of his head for the next few days and enjoy this time with Vivian.

Speaking of Vivian, here was another situation where he didn’t know exactly what was going on, or how to resolve it. He’d hoped she’d be spending these few days with him, at his flat, but she’d never really addressed that part of his invitation. So he supposed he’d just see if she brought her luggage down today when she met him in the lobby.

Where was she? He glanced at his watch. 12:02. He had said noon in his text, hadn’t he? He pulled out his phone and scrolled down to their texts. Yes, definitely, he had. Should he text her? Or call up to her room?

12:05. Something must be wrong.

Had she changed her mind? Maybe she’d left with Maddie this morning and hadn’t told him.

No, Vivian wouldn’t do that.

At least, he didn’t think she would.

He had gotten the hotel correct, hadn’t he? He found the email that the Duchess’s private secretary had sent him with the Forests’ travel information. Yes, The Goring. Well, maybe . . .

“Malcolm! Sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting long!”

There she was, walking to him from the elevator, with a smile on her face.

He smiled at her, so relieved she was here and not on her way back to California that he was almost not annoyed at her casual lateness. And almost not disappointed she had no luggage by her side.

“Not a problem. Are you ready?”

She smiled at him.

“That depends on what we’re doing today.” She cocked her head at him. “What are we doing today?”

His original plan had been that they’d swing by his flat to drop off her luggage before they did anything else, but that didn’t seem to be necessary. He’d have to quickly revise his plan.

He opened the hotel door for her.

“How do you feel about surprises?”

She laughed.

“I hate surprises.”

He stopped on the sidewalk and turned to her.

“Are you . . . do you really?”

She nodded.

“For the most part, absolutely.” She shrugged. “Well, you asked! So often, surprises are just a way for someone to do something they’re not sure you would like, so they present it to you as a fait accompli so you can’t argue with them about it. And even worse, you have to put on a happy face, because ‘It’s a surprise!’ so you’re supposed to be thrilled about it, and you look like a jerk when you’re not. There have been a handful of times in my life when a surprise was thoughtful, someone thinking about what would make me happy. But too often, it’s them thinking about themselves. The problem is so often surprises are about the other person and what they want, and not the person they’re surprising.”

Oh. Splendid. Just splendid.

She patted him on the shoulder.

“Oh God, you look crestfallen. I’m not saying all surprises are bad! I have had a few good ones . . .”

He knew when women said things just to humor him. Now he had no fucking idea what he was going to do. And now the one bright spot in his week had been ruined. Fantastic.

The surprises he’d planned for Vivian had been the only things he’d been happy about all week. He’d made a bunch of calls and pulled a bunch of strings to get things perfect, and now he didn’t know what to do.

Vivian caught herself before she let out a sigh. She probably shouldn’t have been honest with Malcolm about that, but it wasn’t in her nature anymore to lie about her feelings. Though now she was worried that she’d ruined everything.