But who knew what Maddie’s life would be like then? Would she have the time for another vacation with her mom? Would her job be too busy for that? Given all the attention she’d gotten from her work with the Duchess, that was a possibility. Or would she be married? Or have kids? The way everything with Theo was going, that could all easily happen. Vivian would love it if any or all of those things came true for Maddie. But the thought that this may have been their last solo trip together made tears spring to her eyes.

She forced herself to shake that melancholy off and concentrate on telling Malcolm the story of their whirlwind trip. But after a few minutes, she realized Malcolm had hardly responded at all. Was he just being polite when he’d asked her what they’d done? She moved away from him and dropped her phone back into her purse.

“Sorry. You probably didn’t want to know in that much detail. Or with that many visuals.”

He leaned away from her, too.

“No, that was fine. You and your daughter take a lot of pictures together.”

Was that a criticism? Was he making fun of her penchant for taking selfies with Maddie? She didn’t used to do that, but since Maddie was so into the Instagram thing, she always made Vivian take selfies with her whenever they went somewhere together. At first, Vivian had been really self-conscious about it. But then Maddie had taught her how to look good in a selfie—Chin up! Picture from above! Smile with your eyes!—and she’d gotten into it. Now she found it fun to have a record of all of the places she and Maddie had gone together, whether it was London or a beach day or just a happy hour on a random night when they were both free. She was suddenly annoyed with Malcolm for criticizing her relationship with her daughter.

“We do take a lot of pictures together,” she said. “We like them.”

Why did things feel so awkward between her and Malcolm today? Was it that she hadn’t seen him in days, and she’d forgotten what she’d liked about him? Or was this a disaster in the making? She needed to do what she always advised other people to do and take a few deep breaths and reframe her attitude.

“How was your Christmas?” she asked him. “Did you have a good time at your sister’s?” She suddenly remembered something. “Oh, what was your nephew’s big news?”

He shrugged and took a minute to answer.

“Oh, just some good news about his painting. He’s more excited about it than anyone else, which is often the case for teenagers, I’ve learned.”

Okay, that conversational gambit hadn’t succeeded in her goal to improve their vibe today. Fine, she’d let him take the lead.

The day didn’t get much better. They drove down to the river and took a boat ride down the Thames—she took a lot of pictures, but after what Malcolm had said about her pictures with Maddie, she felt too shy to take any of him. Plus, it was freezing cold on that boat. Afterward, they stopped for tea, and they were a little more relaxed with each other, but when she made a reference to Julia’s scones on Christmas Day, he froze up again.

From there, they went to Westminster Abbey, which she was excited to see; she was even more excited when the priest at the door smiled at Malcolm and waved them in past the long line of people waiting to get inside. But the whole time they walked through the huge, historic, gorgeous church, he barely spoke to her. For a while, she commented to him about the architecture, and the beauty of the church, and the facts she learned on the tour, but his responses were so brief it made her feel like he didn’t want to be there. At one point, they sat together silently and stared up at the altar. She looked at his unsmiling profile and tried to figure out what was wrong. Was he bored of playing tour guide? Or did he regret asking her to stay? Was that what this was about?

She sighed as they walked out of the Abbey. This wasn’t why she was in thirty-two-degree London and not on her way to sixty-two-degree California. What happened to all of their fun banter and laughter? Why did Malcolm seem like he was on a forced march of sightseeing instead of a relaxed romantic visit, which is what she thought this was? And for the love of God, why hadn’t he seemed to even think about kissing her all day?

She never should have stayed. Why had she listened to her daughter?

Malcolm had completely forgotten he’d told Vivian that Miles had big news to share. When she’d brought it up, he’d said the first thing he could think of and changed the subject. He didn’t want to ruin their day and tell her the whole long Miles story. He didn’t want to get into their fight, or his subsequent fight with Sarah, and how angry and hurt he’d been about Miles’s parting shots at him. He just wanted to relax and have fun with Vivian and not think about his pain-in-the-ass nephew.

Unfortunately, that was impossible. Every time he tried to relax, he thought of something he should have said to Miles, or a way he could have handled the whole situation better, or felt a wave of fury at Miles for throwing his life away like this, or got angry again with Sarah for not telling him in advance what Miles’s big news was, so he’d be prepared for it. Or, when he managed to forget about his family and turn his attention to the bright, lovely woman sitting across from him, she brought up Christmas Day, and it made all of his anger—at Miles, at Sarah, at himself—resurface.

He wanted to apologize to Vivian for how preoccupied he was, but he didn’t want to get into a whole conversation about why. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Vivian, I blew up at my nephew and laughed at him and his ambitions and he’s furious at me now, and it’s all my fault that he’s going to ruin his life just to spite me.