Although I had encouraged Caro’s venturing out to rent her own place, I missed her when she left. It didn’t help that her departure happened so abruptly. We all took time out of work the next day to see the house in Beadnell, and Caro and I fell in love with the place as soon as we walked in.
The kitchen was big enough for her to bake from home, and the views were spectacular.
After Roane asked a bunch of questions about utility bills, council tax, heating costs, maintenance charges, and all the boring but necessary stuff, he gave Caro his blessing.
As long as he got to install a security system.
She agreed.
Two days later she’d moved into her new home. Furthermore, Caro had talked with Tony, and although she didn’t want to work for him, they came to an agreement that he could sell a selection of her baked goods two days a week at his bakery, but it would cost him. This snowballed into Caro having business cards designed and asking Roane to hand them out to local businesspeople, some of whom had already tasted Caro’s baking over the years. She got bookings within a day.
She’d started to see a therapist, and I could see the positive affects her sessions were having on her. Every day she seemed to grow more confident in her choices. This was helped by the news from Roane that Helena hadn’t exactly been destitute—just greedy and spiteful. Caro seemed to relax knowing that she hadn’t left Helena in desperate straits. Roane made it clear that Helena wouldn’t be coming after Caro for money or to cause her upset. She was too afraid Roane would make good on his promise.
By the end of the first week Roane and I had spent as a couple, Caro was transformed. I’d barely seen her because she was rushed off her feet. I was proud of her, but I was also worried she was trying to do too much too soon to get her business off the ground. Still, I wasn’t her mom. She had to be free to do things her way.
Also, I was a little preoccupied myself.
Being in a relationship with a sexy farmer was somewhat challenging time-wise. Roane was a busy guy. He tried to pop into the store at lunchtime every day to see me, and then he and Shadow would appear at my apartment for a late dinner. Sometimes we’d go to the pub, but mostly we stayed in bed. The guy was used to running on less than five hours of sleep but, considering he reached for me in the early hours of the morning every night, pulling me out of sleep to either ravage me or make love to me, it was a miracle he wasn’t a zombie at work. He awoke before sunrise, which was around four forty-five a.m. in these parts during the summer. Sometimes I woke up and felt his kiss goodbye and sometimes I didn’t, sleeping right through until my alarm went off a few hours later.
There were days I found myself drifting off in the armchair of the bookstore, marveling over Roane’s boundless energy. And stamina.
Oh yes, that man had stamina.
Moreover, he was so considerate. Sometimes he’d get phone calls in the evening about work, and he always went downstairs to the bookstore to take them “so he wouldn’t disturb me” if I was watching TV or reading a book. I insisted he didn’t have to do that, but Roane was always thinking about my needs and wants.
Inside and outside the bedroom.
I was falling for him.
Which was why I’d felt it prudent to call Greer to update her.
Just in case . . . well, just in case I made a decision that would affect how much we saw each other in the future.
It was around eight o’clock in the morning in Chicago when I decided to call. I’d turned the sign on the store door to closed and ventured into the storeroom to multitask. Stock had come in that morning. Cracking open the boxes, I dialed Greer as I sorted through the new books.
She’d listened quietly as I explained what was happening between my farmer and me.
Then said nothing when I drew to a close.
“Greer?”
“What do you want me to say?”
A flicker of annoyance flashed over me, but I kept it out of my voice. “That you’re pissed at the implications but, ultimately, happy for me.”
“Pissed at the implications? So, you’re seriously considering moving to England for a guy you’ve only known for a few months? A guy you’ve only been dating a week.”
That flicker was suddenly a flame. “Don’t make it sound like that. You know it’s more complicated than that. And you know me. I don’t throw myself into relationships willy-nilly.” I scowled ferociously. “What happened to being supportive of this?”
“I don’t want to lose my best friend to England, I’ve said that from the start. But I could get over that if living there made you truly happy. However, I’m worried about you. I’m worried about your heart. You’ve fallen for some guy you don’t even know!”
I could feel my cheeks burning hot with indignation. “I do know him!” I yelled back, momentarily forgetting she was pregnant. “I know him! And he knows me. Better than anyone knows me.”
“Ouch.”
I winced, softening my tone. “I’m sorry . . . but it’s the truth. There are just some things even best friends can’t know about you. But Roane gets me and I get him. I didn’t come here expecting to find that, Greer, but you should be happy for me. I’m not saying I’m staying in England. But I’m not saying that I’m not either. That’s why I called. To prepare you . . . in case . . .”
“You’re in love with him,” she whispered.
I hesitated a second; the way I felt about Roane seemed too big sometimes. When I thought about it too much, those emotions seemed to fill up my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Yeah I am.”
“Evie.” She breathed my name. “I wish I could be there. I wish I could meet him so it would make me feel better about all this . . . but I know it’s not about me. I just . . . what if you don’t come home and you miss . . . I know I’m being selfish.”
“If I decide to stay, and there is a huge possibility I might,” I answered honestly, “I will fly to Chicago to see you, and then when the baby comes, I’ll find a way to fly over again.”
“To Chicago. You said ‘fly to Chicago’ not ‘fly home.’ That means you’re already thinking of England as your home.”
“Well, the truth is, if I decide to stay, it wouldn’t just be because of Roane, although he’s a massive part of the decision-making process. I’m happy here, Greer. I’m not trying to hurt you, and nobody will ever take your place in my heart . . . I’m just being honest. I haven’t felt this content in a long time. And I felt that way before Roane and I got together. It’s just now . . . I’m no longer just content. I’m blissfully fucking happy with him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
I heard my friend sniffle. “I want that for you. I do. I’ll get over myself. I promise.”
“You don’t have to. You think it’ll be easy for me to stay here and not see you every week?”
“It better not be.”
I laughed at her petulance, but the laugh broke on a sob that took me by surprise. “I’m not making any decisions just yet. Okay.”
Greer sighed. “Evie, I know this isn’t easy for you. I can hear that. I’m sorry for making it harder. Don’t . . . don’t think about anything but what you need. You’ve put so many people before yourself in the past. This is about what you want. Remember that. And forget my earlier selfishness. Blame my grumpiness on the hormones. Speaking of the baby . . . it’s pressing on my bladder and I really need to pee.”
“Okay.” I felt despondent as we said goodbye.
The reality of the choice looming ahead of me was starting to set in. My eyes stung with tears as I wandered out of the storeroom and into the shop. I came to an abrupt halt to find Roane standing in the middle of the room.
He wore an intense expression on his face. “The door was open.”
Oh my God, how much of that conversation had he heard?
“Oh?”
“I didn’t mean to eave
sdrop.”
Shit. “How much did you hear?”
“Not all but enough.” With that, he crossed the distance between us, clasped my face in his hands, and pressed his mouth over mine. I clung to him, moaning as his tongue licked against mine, the kiss greedy and deep. When we finally stopped for air, he pressed his forehead to mine and whispered hoarsely, “I’m blissfully fucking happy too, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone either. Just so you know.”
The emotion I felt before I’d seen him welled up inside me, my eyes burning as I determinedly fought back tears. Roane saw the glitter of them and lifted his head to meet my gaze. “That doesn’t come with pressure, Evie. I don’t want to make this any harder for you.”
“I know.” I melted against him, pressing my cheek to his chest, and reveling in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me.
Holding me tight.
No pressure, I thought. He didn’t need to put pressure on me to get what he wanted.
Our wants were in sync, as most everything between us was.
And deep down, I was already thinking about applications and visas, and how the next time I flew back to Chicago, my stay would not be a permanent one.
* * *
• • •
The sun set a little later in this part of the world in July than it did in Chicago. Roane told me that the farther north you traveled into Scotland, the longer the days were. I’d crossed the border into Berwick, so I was happy to say I’d visited Scotland, but I wanted to go to the Highlands so bad and was already planning a romantic getaway in my head.
Not that I needed the Highlands as I walked along Beadnell Bay, enjoying one of the most stunning sunsets I’d ever seen. The water appeared dark purple from shore, slowly turning lighter until it was a shimmering pink and then growing darker again toward the horizon. The sky above the horizon was gold edged in orange. But the clouds in the sky were dark pink, shadowed in purple.
Waves lapped gently at the shore, a lulling rhythm that suffused me with peace as I walked barefoot on the sand, my shoes in one hand, Roane’s hand in my other.
Shadow trotted ahead, his nose to the sand, enjoying all the scents he could find there.
We’d spent the evening with Caro after she’d invited us for dinner, and decided to take a walk on the beach before heading back to Alnster. The farther we walked, the fewer people we saw, although there were several dog owners still out on the sand.
Roane and I had been walking in contented silence when he suddenly commented, “You said you’ve never been in love.”
A fluttering occurred in my chest. I had said that.
It wasn’t true anymore, and the words had been on the tip of my tongue for days. But Roane hadn’t said them yet and I didn’t want to push too hard too fast.
“I did say that.”
“I find it hard to believe.”
“Well, don’t.” I shot him an unhappy look. “Before I came here, I was exhausted by dating in Chicago, and that was after a two-year break.”
“A two-year break?”
“From the age of fifteen to the age of thirty-one, I dated. Sixteen years of dating. Three serious relationships among them. There was Chace, and you know all about him. Then there was Brent, who was five years younger. A funny guy but we only lasted five months because everything was a joke to him. He lost his job while we were together and started living off money from his parents, who didn’t have a lot to spare. He didn’t know how to care for himself, expected me to do everything, and threw a tantrum when he didn’t get his way. A year after that there was Devon. We dated for fourteen months until . . .” I winced, still mortified by the consequences of dating Devon.
“Until?”
“Ugh, let me preface by telling you I have regular health checks and I’m good.”
Roane frowned in confusion for a second before it cleared and turned into a scowl. “The fucker gave you something?”
“Chlamydia. And the cherry on top of that cake . . . I went to confront him after my doctor’s appointment. He was a freelance web designer. Expecting me to be at work, he had what I’d soon discover was one of many women on the side over at the apartment. I walked in on him with his head between her legs.”
“Fuck, angel.” Roane let go of my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders and pull me into his side. He kissed my temple as I curled my arm around his waist. “You deserve so much better than that shit.”
“Well, in between those three relationships there was a lot of first and second dates, a few third dates, and not much else beyond that. When I hit thirty, most of my friends were in love, married, and some were even popping out kids. I was exhausted and I took a break for a couple of years until Greer convinced me to get back on the horse. That led to Aaron, the online guy, and my renewed sense of ‘this might not happen for me.’” I squeezed his waist. “Then I came here.”
His hold on me tightened as we strolled, and as I thought about my dating life over the years, I realized that I’d never actually believed I’d meet the love of my life. Deep down, I thought it was a fairy tale that other people got to live.
It made me breathless to realize I’d been wrong.
I found him.
I found my one.
As I sighed happily, my gaze wandered across the water and the beach ahead, and I thought how lucky I was that I found my person in beautiful England.
As my eyes caressed the water and followed the gentle ripples back to shore, I saw two figures ahead of us.
Something about them caught my attention.
Perhaps it was the way the tall male figure was looming over the small feminine one . . . or perhaps it was because there was something familiar about them. As we drew closer, the woman gestured dramatically with her hands, and the guy bent his head to her, his lips almost brushing hers as he responded.
“Evie, I need to tell—”
“Is that Viola?” I cut Roane off, squinting at the couple. Realization dawned. “And Lucas?”
“What?” Roane snapped his head forward and narrowed his gaze. He tensed against me. “Aye, it is.”
“Maybe we should stop.” The words had barely left my mouth when Viola began striding away from Lucas toward us. Lucas watched her go, but I couldn’t see his expression clearly from this far away.
Viola, however, didn’t react to the sight of us. Her features were tight with pain, and suddenly I felt like an ass for pushing those two together. She drew to a halt in front of us. Without preamble she said, “I didn’t bring my car. Can I get a lift from you?”
“Of course,” Roane replied. “You okay?”
“Can we not talk about it? Ever.”
We nodded solemnly and turned around to walk back the way we came. The walk was silent and tense, the atmosphere staying that way until we parked at the bookstore and watched Viola walk up toward the pub.
I turned to Roane, contrite. “Maybe I fucked up.”
He shook his head. “Like you said, you planted a seed, nothing more. It wouldn’t have grown if you hadn’t been right about how they feel about each other. And obviously there is something between them. We just need to let them sort it out amongst themselves.”
Lying in bed that night, I worried about Viola. I worried Lucas had rejected her and I’d opened the door for that to happen to her. There was a big part of me that wanted to meddle, to fix the problem, since I felt responsible. But, ultimately, I knew I had to take Roane’s advice and stay out of it.
However, that didn’t mean I had to stay out of every long-standing issue that plagued the village.
Twenty-One
By the last week in July, the countdown was on.
Five more weeks. That’s how long I had left before I was supposed to return to the States. Since that phone call with Greer, Roane and I hadn’t talked about the future. It was easier just to imme
rse ourselves in one another and be blissfully fucking happy. Despite my suspicions that Roane was in love with me, I still felt a niggle of insecurity and wasn’t ready to make a huge life decision about staying in England until I was one hundred percent certain that he loved me.
By one hundred percent sure, I meant until he told me he loved me.
Besides, I still wasn’t sure I could leave Greer behind . . . or my mom. I didn’t know what to do about my mother, and I didn’t like thinking about it because it hurt so damn much.
It was a gray day in Alnster, but I was already used to the temperamental weather and kind of glad for it. Summer in Chicago was hot and humid all the time, but moody British weather meant I got a break from the warm climate when I least expected it.
I was sitting behind the counter of the bookstore, working on a manuscript for one of my clients. As much as I’d wanted my freelance editing work to take off, running the bookstore full-time put a kink in those plans. I was pretty much on the same schedule with my editing as I had been in Chicago.
A few tourists had come into the store over the course of the morning, but it was a quiet afternoon, allowing me time to work. Yet I knew when Maggie Foster stepped into the store that my attention was about to be pulled elsewhere. For weeks I’d wanted to talk to Maggie about her daughter, but I just didn’t know how to stick my nose into business that was so personal.
Probably because my nose didn’t belong there.
At all.
“Maggie.” I clicked save on the manuscript and closed my laptop. “How can I help?”
She smiled as she approached the counter. Maggie was a small woman, so I assumed Annie got her height from her father’s side. She had the same lovely “are they green, blue, or gray?” eyes as Annie, although hers were slightly dulled with a perpetual hint of sadness.
“Good afternoon, Evie. I’m here to order a book, if possible. My favorite author only releases one book a year and I always ordered it from Penny.”
“Of course.” I turned to the store’s laptop and pulled up the distribution database. “What’s the name and title?”
Much Ado About You Page 23