Much Ado About You(37)
“It sounds nice. It’s also why I’m afraid you won’t come back.”
“My life is back in Chicago,” I said, the words automatic.
“Is it?”
For the first time, I paused.
Was my life back there?
Surely I couldn’t question that after only a month of staying in Alnster?
I gave a huff of laughter. “I’m sure after three months I will be sick and tired of tiny-village life. I’m a city girl.”
“Hmm.” Greer sighed again. “Have you told Josie?”
Josie was my mom.
My decision to stay in Alnster for three more months was based on a few factors. My mom was one of them, and I didn’t want to face her yet. “I left Phil a voice mail.”
“Evie,” Greer groaned. “That’s not fair.”
Feeling defensive, I scowled. “What? I tried to call. It went to his voice mail.”
“Did you try calling Josie?”
Indignation bubbled up within me, and I had to work hard not to sound irritated as I replied, “This isn’t about her. For once. So, no.”
“Okay, I won’t push it. You’re right, this is about you. You do what you gotta do.”
And just like that I melted, grateful to have a friend—no, a sister—like Greer in my life. “It means a lot to me that you would say that.”
“Well, I’m trying very hard right now not to be a self-involved dipshit, partly because it’s the right thing to do and partly because when I get off this phone and tell Andre you’re staying, he’ll give me this really disappointed look if he thinks I’ve been an unsupportive friend.”
I chuckled. “That must be some disappointed look.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“I love you, dipshit,” I said, trying not to get overly emotional on her.
“I love you too.” Her voice had started to break. “Okay, see you later.”
She hung up quickly, and I knew it was because she was seconds from bursting into tears. I told myself it was her hormones because Greer usually had a better handle on her emotions than this.
It didn’t make it any easier to know that I’d made my best friend cry.
As I got ready for bed, my stomach churned with my decision. Not because I wasn’t happy to stay in England for three more months, but because Greer’s worries had begun to make a dent in my stubborn belief I’d return to Chicago.
What if she was right?
What if what I discovered about myself meant Chicago wasn’t right for me anymore?
This trip to Northumberland was my first international trip. As a kid, we’d vacationed within the States and Canada. Growing up, reading Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, I’d dreamed of England. Of visiting. Living there. As I got older, plans changed. I lost myself in the minutiae of adulthood. England became merely a wish on a vacation bucket list. It didn’t occur to adult me to live somewhere other than Chicago.
It never occurred to me there could be somewhere outside the States that would suit me so well.
My thoughts unsettled me, crashing into me like a massive wave and pulling me out to sea. I floated in that endless sea for hours, until finally, exhaustion dragged me into sleep, relieving me of my worries for just a little while.
* * *
? ? ?
Somewhere around five in the morning, I was jolted out of the peace of slumber by Tom Grennan. Confused, heart racing, I blinked into the dark of the bedroom, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.
Then I remembered I’d changed my ringtone to “Found What I’ve Been Looking For” by Tom Grennan.
Panicked, I turned to fumble for it on my bedside table, thinking there must be some kind of emergency for someone to be calling me at this hour, when the song stopped. Grabbing my phone, I pushed up to sitting and unlocked it to see the missed call was from my mom.
I stared blearily at the screen for a moment.
Obviously, Phil had passed along my message to Mom that I was staying in England for another three months. What was she thinking? Would she think I was abandoning her? That I was done? Would this cause her to fall off the wagon? This was why I didn’t want to talk to her in the first place, because I didn’t want my concern for her dictating my choice. Not this time. At some point, I had to put myself first. Horrible flutters flapped around in my belly.
I’d only been staring at my phone a few minutes when it beeped, and an envelope appeared to let me know I had voice mail.
Oh God.
Just delete it, Evie.
But I couldn’t.
My curiosity was too great.
“Hey, baby girl.” My mom’s husky voice sounded in my ear as I listened to her message. An ache flared across my chest. “I just realized it’s probably really early where you are . . . so I’m sorry if I woke you.”
I relaxed at how clear she sounded.
No slurring.
Not off the wagon, then.
“I just . . . Phil told me you’re staying in England for another three months, and I couldn’t wait that long to say to you . . .” She sucked in a shaky breath and released it slowly, causing static on the line. “How sorry I am. Again. And . . . uh . . . well, I need you to know that if you can’t forgive me, if you can’t find it in you to give me another shot, that I understand, baby girl.” Her voice broke, her words filled with tears I knew were rolling down her face. “I need you to do what’s right for you, even if that means letting me go. I’ve been selfish with you for too long. So . . .” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “You make the right choice for you, my beautiful girl, and don’t worry about me. You’ve been the parent in this relationship for way too long. It’s my turn to do right by you . . . I’m sorry I let you down so much. I’m sorry I never found a way to let you know that I love you more than I love anything in this world.”