In truth, her mother was a lovely woman. If one got to know her, which Freddie had never really had the chance to. They were always either coming or going when he was in London, only stopping for a few days at best. Oh, she showed up often enough alone, mostly running from him for one reason or another. But the time they spent together at her flat as considerably less than the time they were at his. Just another thing for her mother to add to the list of things she didn't like.
She knew she'd upset him. No one knew the man like she did and she knew when he was hurt. In his head, she'd rejected him. Hell, for all she knew, he was creating a scenario in his head where he was simply a consolation prize for the evening and she was, in the end, going to end up with someone else. Which wasn't her intent at all.
No, Florence knew where her heart was. No one spent as long trying to understand their feelings and actions as Florence did without understanding what her heart wanted. She wanted Freddie Trumper. For better or for worse, she wanted to be his in every way possible. But she didn't entirely trust him, and she wasn't even sure she trusted herself.
Regardless, they couldn't just pick up where they'd left off a year ago. A year ago they'd been a disaster in the making, a volcano ready to explode. And it had, and how spectacularly had it? No, they needed to go further back. Maybe not quite at the beginning, because they knew each other far too well for that. But her younger self had been as impulsive with their romance as he was at everything else. She needed to think things through this time, to make sure they worked. She knew they could be incredible together, all over again. But only if they did this right.
She smiled up at him as he opened the car's door, hoping to reassure him. "Who's this gentleman and where have you put my date for the night?" she attempted to tease as she stepped out. It felt so familiar in some ways and completely new in others. Sure, some of the tournaments and press events they'd attended had been in smaller cities, but never anything quite so isolated. Or apocalypse filled.
And yet she took his arm not because she was afraid of what Lawrence had to offer, but because she still craved being close to him. In small doses, perhaps. But she still needed it. "You never did answer me. Have you been here before or am I your guinea pig?"