Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 25

We step off the London Eye and blend back into the crowd, the cold wind cutting across the river. Simon keeps hold of my hand as we wander toward Camden Market, weaving through tourists and street performers. The market is alive — loud, colourful, chaotic — and I fall into it completely. I buy two vintage dresses that look like something out of a 90s film, plus a pair of black boots I definitely don't need but absolutely want.

Simon teases me for stopping at every other stall, but he doesn't complain, just follows beside me with a soft smile that keeps catching me off guard.

By the time we reach Oxford Street, we've collected three bags, my scarf has come undone twice, and my fingers are frozen. We walk into John Lewis, letting the blast of warm air settle over us, and I drift straight toward the electronics section.

"Look at all these TVs," I whisper, stopping in front of an entire wall of screens, all playing the same advert. It's hypnotic.

"We're not here for a TV, Amelia," Simon laughs, tugging lightly on my arm.

"You called me Amelia." I turn to him with a dramatic frown.

"And?" He tugs again but I plant my feet stubbornly.

"You're not allowed to call me that. Reserved names only." My voice is firm, even though I'm half-joking.

He raises a brow, amused. "What if I want to?"

"You can't." I stick my tongue out at him and turn toward the cameras, pretending to be offended.

I pick up a Canon Powershot G7X Mark II. It's sleek, light, perfect. And completely out of my price range. I put it back quietly and move along the shelf, pretending I'm not disappointed.

"Why'd you put it back... Amelia?" he murmurs behind me, dragging out the name just to irritate me.

I ignore him.

"I'll get it for you," he says casually.

I spin to face him, eyes wide as he lifts the box off the shelf like it weighs nothing. "You will not. Simon, that's too much."

He just lifts the box above his head, the absolute child. I jump for it, failing miserably. "Give it back!"

"Nope." He grins. "Let me treat you."

"Nothing else," I warn, pointing at him.

He smirks — then before I can react, he dips down and gives me a quick, soft kiss. My cheeks burn instantly. I shove him away, pretending to be annoyed, but he just laughs and walks toward the checkout.

The price almost knocks me over.

"That'll be £529.99, sir."

My jaw literally drops. Simon doesn't even blink as he taps his card.

"Housewarming present," he says with a smile, handing me the bag. "And before you argue — no refunds."

We step out into the chilled evening air, the sky turning navy overhead. Hunger hits us both, so I try to convince him we should get something nice — somewhere I could pay for — but he shakes his head immediately.

"Nando's," he declares.
Classic Simon.

Inside, he orders while I sit at the table scrolling through my phone. A new post from him catches my eye. My heart does a strange flip when I see it:

@miniminter: Showing the northerner around London :)

The photo is us on London Bridge — his arm around my waist, sunlight behind us, Big Ben in the distance.

I smile to myself and leave a single heart emoji.

When he comes back with our drinks, he catches me. "You know I'm not actually a northerner, right?"

"Yes, but you lived in Manchester longer than London," He teases. "Therefore: Manchester woman."

He glances at his phone as a notification pops up — quickly swiping it away like he doesn't want me to see it. Something about it feels... off. But I let it go.

—

Later, when we walk across London Bridge again, the city feels quieter. Softer. The sky is dark now, the Thames glimmering below. Simon's cheeks are pink from the cold, his breath forming clouds in the air. It feels peaceful, like the whole world has slowed down.

"Thank you for today," I tell him. "It was... honestly perfect."

He squeezes my hand. "I'm just glad we finally got a day with no cameras and no chaos."

Ring

I ignore the vibration in my bag. Keep walking.

By the time we reach the car, it rings again. And again. Simon looks at me, brow furrowed.

"You're not going to answer that?"

I shake my head, pressing the lock button on my phone.

Ring

He sighs. "Millie... answer it."

Reluctantly, I do.

"AMELIA!"

I pull the phone away from my ear, wincing. Of course. Chris.

"What do you want?" I mutter, my throat tightening.

"Why have you been ignoring me, baby?"

Baby. I physically cringe.

"Don't call me that," I snap.

"I saw that picture with that Sidemen guy. Are you fucking him?"

I glance at Simon. His expression darkens instantly.

"No, Chris. I am not with you. We broke up. Stop calling me."

I go to hang up, but Simon reaches over and takes the phone from my hand in one swift movement.

"Listen," he says sharply. "I don't know who you are, but stop bothering her."

He hangs up and returns the phone without another word. The silence in the car tightens, heavy and waiting. He starts the engine.

"I'm going to need an explanation," he says quietly.

I take a slow breath. And tell him everything.

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