It would be a lie to say that Florence didn't want to someday get married. And, it was possible, a row or two had been sparked by that. But she really did understand where Freddie was coming from. His parents' marriage had done nothing but create him and then make his life miserable. And that wasn't what she wanted for him. She just wanted him happy. So she'd been willing to wait. Forever, if that's what it took.
Though if she could hear inside his thoughts just then, she'd have walked out and never looked back and written off any thoughts of marrying him or potentially anyone else. To think she'd have teamed up with Anatoly just as an elaborate joke on him? How many times did she have to make it perfectly clear that she was done with him? Just as he'd clearly been done with her when he'd returned to Russia.
Fortunately for them both, she couldn't read minds. Unlike many of the people they lived with, she had no powers other than the ability to smooth over an angry competitor.
"You've been here a long time, Freddie," she pointed out, refusing to look worried that there had, indeed, been others. "I don't know who you may have been dating. You're a good looking bloke, things happen." And she really wouldn't blame him. She couldn't, actually, they weren't together and, even if they had been, he'd been on his own here for a considerably long time.
She let him lead the way inside and smiled when the restaurant was simple but elegant. Typically Freddie. "I have no idea who recommended it to you, but it's perfect. And authentic, too." Sometimes, being a world traveler had its perks. Like knowing an authentic French restaurant from a fake one. "Only difference is, here you don't have to be on the lookout for fans." Or haters. So many people would hurl insults if she didn't watch the area carefully when they arrived.