The Date in Notting Hill
Snow was being nice. Too nice.
I could have been enjoying the day out with my boyfriend, as we strolled through the overcast streets of London, but no. I couldn’t. It was impossible. Not with Simon chattering animatedly next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist and pumpkin spice latte on his breath.
He was going to break up with me. That was the only explanation.
Simon never planned our dates. I mean, granted, we’d only been dating a year or so and I’d never really given him the chance because I clearly had the better taste out of the two of us. But, still. This just wasn’t done.
So Simon texting me at 8 in the morning to meet him at Bluebelle’s Cafe for a day of romance around Notting Hill was the most horrifying thing I could have ever woken up to. I’d always imagined Simon would break up with me this way.
He knew how long I’d harbored a crush on him, how pathetically long I’d been in love with him, so I’d surmised long ago that the only way he’d break up with me was through a wondrous sympathy date. He’d take me out on the best date of my life as a way to let me down easy.
I mean, I knew it was coming, deep down, but I’d been hoping it wouldn’t happen this damn soon.