Much Ado About You(93)

Mom studied me thoughtfully. “Do you think that it’s somehow weak to think of a person as ‘home’?”

“No one should rely on someone for that. A home should be something outside of a person. They’re too unreliable. You lose them, you lose your home.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but that’s life.”

“Mom—”

“No. That is what it is to be human. We find people we love and they become our home. Jobs, houses, they can all change, but it’s only when we lose someone that we lose that feeling of being anchored to a place. Not a place that’s tangible but a place in here.” She touched her chest where her heart was. “Your father gave me a home when I had none, and losing him, losing that anchor, devastated me. And yes, it made me weak, because ever since, I’ve bobbed around in this nameless sea, dragged under by the waves whenever life gets hard. All because I lost my home when I lost him.

“But what I let myself forget”—she clutched at my hand—“is that you were my home as much as he was. It took me multiple rehab stays and far too much time to realize that.” Her grip tightened to bruising. “Don’t make my mistake, Evie. I see the grief in your eyes. I know that grief. But guess what, my sweet girl, your home is still out there. He’s still out there.”

“How . . .” I choked out. “How do I know he’s my home?”

“You wouldn’t be so shipwrecked right now if he wasn’t.”

“Mom . . . he’s in England,” I reminded her.

Her smile was sad. “I know. This decision isn’t about me or Phil or Greer . . . it’s about you. It’s finally about you, Evie. And all I care about is your happiness. What’s an ocean between family?”

“I think . . .” My stomach churned as I answered. “I think I acted impulsively. Stupidly impulsively and I . . . I was just so hurt and blindsided. But they were right. I didn’t give myself enough time to think it through. I just wanted to run away. And I hurt him. I’ve hurt him too.”

“Do you forgive him?”

The lies still stung and his actions had shaken my trust in him; there was no magic wand for that, other than time. But the thought of never seeing Roane again was unbearable. “I love him,” I admitted. “Being this far away from him scares the shit out of me. When I found out what he’d kept from me, all I kept thinking about was that little whisper in the back of my head that had been telling me since I met him that he was too good to be true. I let that whisper become something big and dark. But being away from him . . . I feel like an idiot for leaving over those lies. Those stupid little lies. I remember he told me once that he was so happy with me, he was afraid. Now I get it. It was hard for him to tell me the truth because he thought I’d walk away. It’s difficult to stay mad at someone because they love you so much, it made them act like a moron. So, yes, I forgive him.”

“Then he’ll forgive you too.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then he’s a fool. And I’ll be here.”

I hugged my mom tight as we swayed gently on the porch swing, but as the minutes passed, the pieces of my heart that belonged to her began to heal, giving way to those that belonged to Roane. They pulled my mind into the fray of their restoration, until I was already back in England before my body was.





Twenty-Eight


I discovered in the whirlwind of organizing my move to England that Penny had not put the store and apartment up for sale yet.

“I knew, deep down, I’d get this call,” she’d said when I called to tell her I wanted to continue with the purchase. I apologized for messing her around and promised this time I meant to see the sale through.

She’d promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone I was on my way home, and I believed she’d keep that promise.

Roane might not forgive me for running away from us, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t moving to England either way. With a little distance I saw the villagers’ deception with renewed eyes. It wasn’t malice. It was the opposite. Greer was right. They wanted me, an outsider, for one of their own, and in a weird, roundabout way, it was actually a huge compliment.

And I’d spat in their faces about it.

Not that I didn’t still think what they did was wrong, but hadn’t I also meddled with only good intentions in mind?

Ironic, that.

Whether Roane gave me a second chance or not, I was moving to Alnster. I was taking the risk that if we didn’t end up together, the village wouldn’t hold it against me.

As impatient as I was to return to England, I stayed a few days with Mom and Phil because it would be a while before I’d see them again. Then I’d gone back to Chicago to arrange shipment of all my things to England.

Besides, I had to say goodbye to Greer.

And yes, I had enough tears left for that goodbye.

The eventual trip from Chicago to London, London to Newcastle was torturous. I’d never been so impatient in my life to get anywhere. The drive north from Newcastle was even more so. Jet-lagged, smelling of plane, and pale cheeked, I directed the cab to Roane’s estate.

His true estate.

Alnster House.

I needed to see it. It was part of a deceit that had become twisted into something that shouldn’t have been as destructive as it was. What I wanted from the house, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps to alleviate my concerns. To remind me it was just bricks and mortar and it didn’t change who Roane was.