Chapter 11

"Looks like you'll be coming here every day now. Would you like me to keep this space free for you?" Grace asks us as she steps to our table shortly after we sat down and I smile at her, because it is the fourth day in a row that Henry and I are here. He waits for me to take that question and to answer it.

"You don't have to go to any hassle because of me. I am sure that we would find a place to sit without it," I let her know and I am touched by her offer. Grace really is an amazing person. In the past few days, she sat down at our table for a few minutes at a time and talked to me. She has this calm and cheerful aura around her which makes me relax and open up to her.

"That doesn't bother me," Grace tells me and smiles at me warmly. "How long will you be in London for?"

"Unfortunately, today is the last day, I'm here in London," I say, and she looks rather sad. I guess she liked our little talks as well.

"No. I got so used to having you here. But whenever you come back to visit London, this seat will be yours. However, you need to try something else tonight. I can't have you only eating fish and chips."

Taking fish and chips the last three days was easy, because you can't really mess up fried fish and fries. After having literally studied the menu on the second night, I was and still am not sure, if I would want to try anything else on there. Each dish sounds scarry.

"You know what, surprise me." I take the leap of faith and could always get a slice of pizza from somewhere else, if I don't like it. Grace looks at Henry.

"Bangers and mash?" she asks him, and he nods at her.

"And an IPA to it, but not the bitter kind." Shortly Grace taps her index finger against her chin as if she thinks about the combination.

"Interesting choice," Grace says and then leaves us to get our beers.

"So, what's bangers and mash?" I ask him as soon as Grace is far enough away to not hear my question, and he laughs. In the past few days Grace scolded me for not trying something different. She told me to get out of my comfort zone and experience different kinds of food which I do to my defense. However, my agent was right when she told me that Brits have an interesting way of combining their food.

"You'll see. I have seen on your feed, that you visited the British Library today," Henry smiles and leans back in a relaxed manner. I can tell his focus is at me and that he doesn't care about anything else around us. It's so refreshing and nice to be able to hold civil and positive conversations again. He seems to be genuinely interested in my experiences and where I went to in London in the past few day.

"Yes, and it was absolutely amazing. I walked through the Treasures of British Library exhibition," I start and swoon about all the things I was able to see there such as notebooks of Leonardo da Vinci, handwritten manuscripts from Virginia Woold and others as well.

"What was your favorite part?" he asks and then he takes a sip from his IPA that Grace brought over to us while I was talking.

"Jane Austen's desk on which she wrote her novels."

"Why is that?"

"Because she is one of my favorite authors. Her way to write was so innovative and unrecognized during her time. But then writers such as George Eliot or Charles Dickens adopted it. Even now two hundred years later her works are still relevant in our culture and many critical essays have been derived from it," I tell him, and he smiles at me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I want to know and draw my eyebrows together in confusion.

"You speak with so much vigor about it and if I wouldn't have known before, I would know now, that English and literature are your passion. I'm glad to see you like this, that's all." Shrugging his shoulders he takes his beer and takes a sip from it without even looking away from me for a second.

"It feels good to be happy, content and full of energy again. Not having to be extremely mindful about what I have to say, because only a word could set the person I'm talking to off, is literally freeing. But the most important thing is, that I am creative again. No more writer's block."

"I guess this means, you are working on the next part of your new series?"

"Yes, and speaking of which, I have something for you that I have been meaning to give you for days now," I tell him and grab my purse to take out the wrapped books. "It's a belated birthday present," I add as I give him the present. I am glad that I went back to the hotel before coming here or else I might have had to carry the books with me the whole day.

As soon as he sees the wrapped objects, he looks surprised, and I can tell that he thinks about what to say.

"Thank you but wasn't necessary. I didn't give you anything on your birthday," he sighs.

"You were there for me one of my darkest nights and offered me your help. That's all I could have asked for." He presses his lips together and slowly nods. "Come on, open it," I push him, and he shakes his head with a smile adorning his lips.

"Some things have to be savored," he says, and I roll my eyes. Antagonizing slowly and carefully as if he is afraid to rip it, he opens up the gift wrap and looks at the cover of the book on top which is the first book of my new series.

"Is this what I think it is?" Henry asks me full of surprise and I bite my lower lip not knowing if he likes it.

"Yes. This is one of the first copies of my new book," I answer and pucker my mouth. The astonishment in his face gets replaced by excitement.

"Wow, that is absolutely fantastic. One of the best gifts I have received in a long time." I can hear the appreciation and the honesty in every single word, while he is studying the cover intently.

"I figured that since you are a massive fan of my works and have been there for me in these past few months, I need to give you something that is worthy of being a best friend," I explain to him as he shortly looks up to me before moving his gaze back down to the book.

"Your real name is on it," he states and glances at me with a somewhat puzzled expression.

"Yes. I published my first book under a pseudonym, because I didn't want people to know it was me. Not only because I value my privacy, but the biggest factor for that decision was that I still had been in undergrad while I sent it to different publisher. I didn't want my classmates to make fun of me if it hadn't worked, nor did I want them to think differently of me because it had worked. And I was afraid that my professors would push me harder and treat me differently, because of my success," I tell him a shrug my shoulders casually.

I thought about it long and hard. I had a talk with my agent about it, because I thought that she would be against it, as I have built my fanbase with my alias, but she supported my decision. She said something about being more approachable using my real name.

"That is a comprehensible justification. What changed?" Henry wants to know and I can tell he thinks about my reasoning, because using my real name makes me give up some of my privacy, but I don't care too much about that anymore.

"I no longer need to hide behind the alias, because I don't need to prove to anyone anymore that I am very good at what I do. Talking to you about my books showed me that I want to be closer to my fans. They deserve answers and to know what I felt while writing it. There is only so much, that can transpire through a text I post on my social media. I want to be able to talk to them while readings or when they recognize me on the street. I'll be on set for the next few months and people would have asked me, who I am. I am neither a liar nor do I want to hide things from the people I work with. Explaining to them that I used that alias would just feel weird. And in the end, the more people know about a secret, the more likely it is to be revealed."

He nods his head and opens the book. I handwrote a personal dedication into it only for him.

#33: Remember no one makes it alone. Have a grateful heart and be quick to acknowledge those who helped you. – Life Lessons from an 80 year old man.

Dear Henry, I can't put into words how thankful and appreciative I am for everything you have done for me. Your forever grateful friend, Charlotte

After reading it, he looks at me and I can tell he is touched by it. He takes my hand and squeezes it gently.

"Thank you." That's all he says, before looking down at it again and flips through the book, before turning it to the back cover to read the book blurb.

"You let them print a portrait of you."

"Yes, as I said, I want that people are able to talk to me, wherever they find me. Heather actually took that picture," I explain, and he smiles at me again.

"She told me about it, but I wouldn't have thought that it would be for this," he tells me and then takes the second book into his hand. The cover is black without a title or anything else printed on it.

"What's that?" he asks me confused as he turns it around in his hands.

"Since the first book will be published on Monday, I thought that the real present would be the second book in the series. Just don't try to lose it or I might get into really big trouble with my publishers," I laugh.

"I won't lose it and guard it with my life if I have to.", he tells me with a straight face, and I believe him every single word.