Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
I grab Jesse’s hand. It’s cold, and I force it to warm up on my own. He’s not upset, exactly. He told me this morning what he found in Maddie’s and my room last night, and though he says he’s dealing with it, his body says differently. I’m just glad there isn’t a concert tonight. He needs to have a day to be tense. By tomorrow, I’ll have worked all the tension out of him.
I hope.
“Our first stop is George Square,” Lissa continues, “which is the bustling heart of Glasgow. Take a moment to look around and notice the statues, fountains, and the imposing City Chambers building behind me. This square is a hub of activity and often hosts events and festivals.”
The architecture is grand, and once more I think of Diana. Then I think only of Jesse, his hand clamped in mine.
“Try to relax,” I whisper. “Enjoy the sights.”
He grumbles at me as we walk around the area. Screw him, anyway. I’m going to enjoy the view. I love culture and history, and he won’t ruin it for me. I’m tempted to let him stew and join Dave and Maddie, who are talking to another couple on the tour, smiling and laughing. But this is the man I love, and I love his obstinance as well as his other more enjoyable attributes.
We hit the Glasgow Cathedral—a masterpiece of Gothic architecture, according to Lissa. Its soaring ceilings are supported by massive stone columns, and the stained-glass windows depict scenes from Glasgow’s history. Still holding Jesse’s hand, I listen to Lissa as she explains all the windows in detail.
Jesse finally perks up when we get to the crypt that lies beneath the cathedral. It’s dim and eerie, and the stone walls are thick. I rub my arms against the chill, unsure whether it’s from the coolness of being underground or the spookiness of the crypt itself.
I look up at the vaulted stone ceilings supported by columns and arches, and my nerves prickle. I almost feel the spirits of the dead.
“This is the oldest surviving part of the cathedral,” Lissa informs us. “It contains the tomb of St. Mungo, around which pilgrims have gathered for centuries.”
“Who’s St. Mungo?” Jesse asks.
I have to stop myself from jerking at his words. It’s the first time he’s said anything since the tour began.
“He’s the patron saint of the city of Glasgow. He was a sixth-century Christian missionary and bishop in what is now Scotland.”
Jesse nods but doesn’t inquire anything further. Later I’ll ask him why he was so interested in the crypt. The ancient tombstones are fascinating, and once I get over the haunted feeling, I look to my heart’s content before we move on.
We hit the Glasgow Necropolis, a Victorian cemetery on a hill, and then Merchant City and Glasgow Green, a historic park by the river.
Then on to Buchanan Street, Glasgow’s premier shopping destination, where the tour ends and Lissa leaves us. The lively street is lined with shops, cafés, and restaurants. Jesse pulls me into a pub, where he orders an ale.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask.
“Not particularly. But order lunch if you want.”
“I will. And I’ll order for you, too. You have to eat, Jesse. You have a performance tomorrow night.”
“God, you sound just like Rory.”
“Someone has to make sure you’re taken care of,” I say.
His gaze softens then, and he squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be Jesse.”
He chuckles then. “You did not just say that.”
“Corny, I know. But come on, Jess. It’s not the end of the world. Dave is a good guy, and Maddie’s an adult. Everything will work out fine.”
“I know,” he says softly. “I know.”
When our server arrives, I order leek and chicken pie for both of us, and an ale for Jesse to help calm him down. Once the food arrives, he dives in.
“Ha! You were hungry.”
“Maybe I just like the food.”
I shake my head at him. “Tell me,” I say. “You only asked one question, and it was about the crypt.”
“I found the crypt interesting.”
“Why?”
He swallows his bite of pie, takes a drink of ale, and smiles, almost deviously. “I was thinking about pummeling Dave and leaving him in there.”
I roll my eyes and swat him. “Get over yourself.”
“I didn’t do it, did I?”
I just laugh. This is Jesse Pike. He’s not perfect, and no matter what he says, I know he’d never harm a fly. He’s just Jesse.
The man I love.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jesse
The train ride back to London takes up our afternoon, and this time, Brianna and I sit together. Every time I head to the restroom, I remember our tryst during the long ride from London to Edinburgh. I’d love to relive it, but not with Maddie and Dave sitting across from us on the train.
Oh, hell no.
I’m not giving David Simpson any ideas.