To London 

Chapter 18 

Frankie and Joanie were saying goodbye. 

Frankie had finally ended her whirlwind stay at the house, and I could see it in Dad's eyes—he was actually sad. 

I, on the other hand, was relieved. Joanie had spent most of her time hovering around me like I was a celebrity, giggling at everything I said, following me around the house, and once even offering me a juice box like it was a grand romantic gesture. I mean, I get it. I'm cool. But this was a bit much. 

We were sitting in the kitchen after they'd gone, just me, Charlie, and Dad. 

I leaned back in my chair and sighed. "Well… that was new." 

Charlie took a sip of his coffee. "You mean the part where I became the third wheel in my own house?" 

"No," I said. "The part where I had to deal with an eight-year-old girl having a crush on me… and Dad got all the good stuff." 

Dad didn't even deny it. Just gave a wistful smile. 

"Unreal," I muttered, reaching for the last slice of toast. 

Welcome to Malibu. 

——— 

A few minutes later, Evelyn swept into the kitchen like she was making an entrance on a runway. 

"I have exciting news," she said. "I've been invited to a wedding. The daughter of an old friend of mine." 

Charlie glanced up. "How are the bridesmaids?" 

Evelyn turned her head slowly and gave him a death glare. 

He held up his hands. "Just asking." 

I leaned forward, curious. "Wait, you're inviting all of us? Isn't that kind of unusual? Weddings usually have a guest limit, and you're adding three people who don't even know the bride and groom." 

Evelyn gave a small shrug. "She adores me. I'm sure they'll make room." 

Then she added, almost as an afterthought, "It's in London." 

I froze. 

London? 

Suddenly, everything shifted in my head. This wasn't just a random wedding anymore. I had literally been talking about wanting to travel somewhere cool during summer vacation—and now this falls into my lap? 

This had to be the Pilot. 

I leaned back in my chair, thoughtful. "Huh. This just got interesting." 

I looked back at Evelyn. "What's the name of the bride and groom?" 

Evelyn blinked. "Um… I think the daughter's name is Amy? Or something like that." 

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?" 

She waved a hand. "It's in the invitation somewhere, I'm sure." 

"You sure you were actually invited, gramma?" I asked. "Names are usually printed right on the front of the invite." 

Evelyn didn't even flinch. "They'll be thrilled to see me. Trust me." 

——— 

Cut to the four of us boarding a first-class flight to London in that very same day. 

I buckled in, looking around at the plush seats, soft lighting, and the ridiculous legroom. "I thought this was going to be during summer vacation. Not the next day." 

Alan, already fumbling with his seatbelt, added, "Who invites someone to a wedding one day in advance? Even if it's the mother." 

Charlie just grinned as he leaned back and tapped the armrest. "Someone that doesn't want us to be there." 

I settled into my seat, feeling the comfort wrap around me like a hug. The leather, the legroom, the soft hum of quiet wealth. My first time in first class. 

"Yeah," I whispered. "I was born for this." 

A few minutes later, the flight attendant rolled by with a tray of drinks. 

Alan perked up. "Are those complimentary?" 

She smiled. "Yes, sir. All included." 

Alan nodded. "Well then, I'll take four more of whatever that is." 

I groaned. "Can you not embarrass us, Dad?" 

Charlie and Evelyn, without missing a beat, replied in sync: 

"Too late." 

——— 

We arrived in London, and I have to admit—the hotel was nice. Not mind-blowing, but nice. 

Evelyn, of course, had other thoughts. 

"Honestly, we should've booked somewhere a little more luxurious," she said, eyeing the lobby like it personally offended her. 

Alan, meanwhile, was practically vibrating. "This is amazing! We could see the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, maybe do a double-decker bus tour before dinner!" 

I raised an eyebrow. "We're not in a race. Besides, what's the rush? We can stay after the wedding too." 

Missing a few days of school wasn't exactly a tragedy. 

Before the dinner, we actually did a bit of sightseeing. Tower Bridge, Big Ben, and a brief but embarrassing moment when Dad tried to speak in a British accent to a local vendor. 

"Pardon me, good sir, might you direct me to the nearest loo?" he asked in what sounded like an Irish pirate. 

The vendor blinked. "Mate… just say bathroom." 

Charlie and I almost died of secondhand embarrassment. Evelyn pretended she didn't know us. 

We stopped at a café near the Thames, where Evelyn ordered tea like she was royalty and made a show of correcting the server's pronunciation of "scone." Charlie bought a street caricature of himself that somehow made him look both drunk and noble. 

At one point, we walked through a park near Buckingham Palace. Dad ran up to one of the Queen's Guards and tried to make him smile. 

"Hey buddy! Knock knock!" 

Nothing. 

Charlie pulled him back. "Come on, Alan. Let the man protect the Queen in peace." 

By the time we were headed back to the hotel to change for dinner, we'd walked five miles, taken at least a hundred pictures (most of them by Dad), and I had a new appreciation for just how much secondhand embarrassment one can absorb in a day. 

——— 

Later that evening, we got dressed up for the pre-wedding dinner. 

As soon as we walked in a well-dressed woman turned and spotted Evelyn. 

"Evelyn!" she gasped, walking over with open arms. "Thank God you came." 

Evelyn smiled like she expected nothing less. "Andrea, darling. Of course." 

Andrea Waltham. 

I scanned the room and nearly choked on my own breath. 

Ross. 

Emily. 

My eyes widened. I knew those faces. 

"Wait a second…" I muttered. 

Charlie leaned in next to me and whistled. "Now that's a good-looking one." 

I put my hand on his belly and pushed him back. "Yeah. That's also the bride."