We were a few steps from crossing paths—so close I could breathe in his cool, crisp scent—when he looked at me. At least it felt like he looked at me. His shades were too dark to tell for sure, but the way the corner of his mouth tipped up with just a hint of a smile rattled my insides to my core.
It was unfair. He could see me, but I couldn’t see him. My disappointment was short-lived since, in the next second, he was out of sight—nearly out of mind. If it weren’t for the husky words that slipped from his throat after crossing my path, I would have already been on my way toward forgetting about him completely.
“That’s one lucky willy,” he said in a deep voice from behind me. “Happy shagging, love.”
His arrogance swirled through the air, thickening quickly and steadily, while embarrassment flooded my body and goose bumps rose beneath my skin. I dared a look over my shoulder to watch the strange man exit the tearoom. He carried a nonchalance in his walk. His tone was unmistakably British—the real accent, not the fake one Gwen and her friends liked to attempt.
I made a sound in the back of my throat to demonstrate the disgust I felt for the exchange I’d just had with Gwen. Then I turned toward my mom, who was eyeing me with a warning.
“Big plans tonight, huh?”
I let out a heavy sigh and shook my head while setting my elbows on the counter. “No, Mom.” I kept my voice quiet enough so only she could hear. “I just wanted to get Gwen off my back. I stopped by to pick up tea and scones so I can go back to the Hogues’ place—alone. I’m looking forward to a quiet night. No shagging, I promise.”
Her lips twitched with a threatening smile, then she turned to grab my things she’d already prepared. “Well, in that case, enjoy it. But—”
I cringed at the conversation I knew was about to follow. Here we go again.
“Getting back out there isn’t an entirely bad idea, sweetheart. You’ve been single for quite a while.”
With a pinch of my lips, I pushed my exasperation back down into my chest, where I would continue to let it brew. “Two months.” My words were quiet, measured. “That’s hardly a long time.”
“But you were with Dean for two years. The clock’s ticking.” She tapped her wrist as if that would drive her point home.
I reached over the counter and snatched the bag of scones and hot tea waiting for me. “You should be happy I got out of that relationship before it was too late.”
She tilted her head with a squint. “You never did tell me what happened between you two.”
Discomfort swarmed in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I’d dropped out of law school before fall semester classes had even started wasn’t something I’d told my parents yet. They suspected my heart had never been in my studies since I had been perfectly content staying on the slow track—acquiring credits while I worked full-time—but they maintained the belief that my life wouldn’t start until I had my business degree in hand. They were almost as bad as Dean when it came to my dreams of writing for a living.
“We were wrong for each other, plain and simple. I’m happy. Please be happy for me.”
“Of course, I’m always happy if you are. I’m just not convinced that’s the case. You’re almost thirty, Chelsea. I thought I’d have grandbabies by now.”
“Are you serious? I still have plenty of time.”
“But—”
“Please.” I emphasized the word with a laugh. “Stop it. You’ll get your grandbabies one day. I just need to find the right willy first.” I winked and turned from the counter, ready to flee and never return. I was so relieved to see that Gwen and her friends had left.
Once I made it to the door, I looked back with a final wave. “Oh, and tell Daddy I stopped by. Just—try to leave out the willy talk.”
With that, I stepped onto the sidewalk and headed in the direction of the Hogues’ home. Alone.
2
Chelsea
I took the long way back to Doctor Simon and Bridget Hogue’s home on Blackstone Boulevard, sipping my tea and strolling by the park to watch the sunset before finally entering their private subdivision, lined by well-lit streetlamps that stood out against the darkening sky. I approached the half-acre property where an English-style brick manor home sat and veered right toward the wrought iron gate that led to the back of the house.
I punched the security code into the keypad and closed it behind me then followed the path toward the brightly lit private pool in the rear courtyard. For the past two months, I’d made a home of the small pool house, which was equipped like a small apartment with a bedroom, a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living area. Most of my time was spent in the Hogues’ main home with the kids, but during my off-hours, I was grateful for the small space I could call my own.
After closing the door behind me, I quickly traded my yoga attire for a tank top and cotton shorts, then strolled to my vintage record player—my pride and joy—and started up my new vinyl record by The 1975 that had been on repeat since it had come in the mail. Once the music was set, I tore into my takeout bag and pulled out the fresh scones, faux clotted cream, and jam. I was in pure heaven.
Entire days off at the Hogues’ manor was scarce. They were more than decent employers, always ensuring I took time off, but with their jobs at the hospital, it was rare for them to have a full day—let alone week—off together, which meant I was always starting or ending my shift at irregular hours. I planned to relish my week without responsibilities, with nothing but my muse churning inspiration in my mind.
When my belly was completely satisfied, I reached for my blue notebook and lay stomach-down on the couch. I took up my black pen that bookmarked the page I had last scribbled some thoughts on and settled for a moment, rereading what I’d written that morning. They were largely character-development notes about a book I’d already written six drafts of but couldn’t drum up the courage to let out of my clutches. I just kept picking it apart, chapter by chapter, until the story had evolved in ways I’d never imagined.
After making the decision to drop out of grad school to nanny full-time and write more often, not a single day had gone by in the past two months that I didn’t wonder if I’d made a horrible decision. I was giving up the safety of a great education and potentially a large-salaried job for what? An unexplored writing career? It felt crazy to think about, but I didn’t want to spend my time regretting not following my dreams. I wanted to spend my time bringing them to life.
I’d only started to make some additional book notes when I grew heavy with exhaustion. My pen fell from my hand, and my eyes drifted closed. Darkness settled over me while The 1975 lulled me into deep relaxation. The calm didn’t last long.
My entire body startled awake at the sound of rock music blaring right outside my door. What the hell? I jerked to a sitting position, my heart thundering in my chest while I looked around. My head was still thick with fog from my sleepy state. My muscles ached from the awkward position I’d drifted off in. After a few seconds, I realized the music was coming from the Hogues’ patio speakers.
How can that be? The Hogues were long gone, and no one else was supposed to be here.