Almost

Chapter 13: Decisive

Crawley had spent most of Sunday convincing Katherine to sit down at the table and look through a menu from a caterer Picquery had recommended.

"You're the food guy," she said to him. "I just want cake."

"There has to be something that you want," he responded, flipping the page. "Like these sliders—could be a fun."

"We fight when we eat burgers," she reminded him.

"Perfect way to break the curse."

"Or our wedding vows."

He looked worried until he saw the smile on her face and she continued. "Whatever you want is great. I doubt we'll get to eat any of it anyways."

"Not a chance. I'm eating at my wedding."

"Say," she began, crossing her legs and pushing the menu away from her, "I was thinking that during the reception we should sneak away and check out the new Reflections on Reflecting exhibit they're putting up. It's supposed to be incredible."

"Isn't it about mirrors?" Crawley asked skeptically.

"Not regular mirrors. Foe glasses, two-way mirrors, they've even supposedly got the Mirror of Erised on loan from Hogwarts. During the normal exhibit they'll have a guard with a timer to keep people from staring too long. We could have it all to ourselves. And it's right next to the Magical Sport exhibit you love. I'd even take your picture with the Golden Snidgets."

Crawley laughed and pulled the menu back. "Tell you what, if you pick two appetizers, an entrée, and a cake flavor, I'll pick the rest and you can have half an hour in the exhibit."

"One appetizer and my half hour doesn't start until we've left the Snidgets."

"Deal," Crawley agreed, rolling his eyes while he stood to get a glass of water.

She picked the menu back up and looked all the options over, hoping he would be happy enough that she was making some choices that he'd ignore what she had to tell him next. "By the way, I have to go to London tonight."

"For what?" he said, precisely what she didn't want him to.

"Oh, just have to go."

"Waine—"

"I think these mini flatbreads would be nice. Appetizer done. Now, for the entrée, I know I don't want these barbequed options—there's no way we'd end up not having a mess on someone's white dress shirt."

"I really don't think—"

"Though, I suppose the whole magic thing makes that a non-issue. Still, just doesn't seem right to me."

He put his hand gently in the middle of the menu, halting her babbling.

"It's hypothetical," she said quietly, looking up at him over her glasses.

"Will you be making some sort of plan in London that involves New York?"

She didn't answer, just kept staring. "We've talked about this."

He sat down and put his head in his hands for a moment before folding them under his chin. "Are you sure you've thought this through?"

She put her arm through his and pointed to the picture. "Wouldn't you rather talk about this flatbread? It's caprese. Seems bright and summery."

He nodded almost indistinctly. "I know I told you I didn't want to know..."

"And I think that is still the wise choice," she told him, leaning against his shoulder. She could feel him shoulder tense. But, he didn't respond except for a very heavy sigh.