Something savory wafted nearby, and my stomach growled. Out of nowhere, Miles appeared and, without so much as a single peep, swapped my empty plate for a heaping slice of sizzling chicken pot pie. “Fuel up, Annie cakes.” He dropped into the booth beside Ophelia. “Sup, crumpets.” He slid her a ceramic Annie’s Pies mug and donned his best British accent. “Fancy a cuppa?” Ophelia’s gaze was searing. “Do you actually think that’s what I sound like or are you simply that daft?” “Be nice, Phee,” I muttered from my side of the table. Ophelia’s smile was feline. “Miles, will you please not be a
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