Ava
I loved London.
I loved its energy, the posh accents, and the anticipation that I might sight one of the royals any day. I didn’t, but I could, though I reassured Bridget she’d always be my favorite royal. Most of all, I loved that it was a fresh start. No one knew me here. I could be whoever I wanted, and the creative spark I’d lost in those dark weeks after Philadelphia came rushing back.
I’d been nervous, moving to a city where I had zero connections, but the rest of the WYP fellows and instructors were great. After two weeks of living in London and attending workshops, I’d already formed a small group of friends. We celebrated happy hour at pubs, went on photoshoots together on the weekends, and did touristy stuff like ride the London Eye and cruise on the Thames.
I missed my friends and Josh, but we video-called often, and Bridget promised to visit me on her way back to Eldorra later this summer. Plus, all the WYP workshops and activities and the excitement of exploring a new city kept me busy. I didn’t have time to be in my head, thank God.
I’d been in my head for months, and it wasn’t a great place to be. I needed a change of scenery.
I also needed to send a big thank-you gift basket to the original London fellow who’d agreed to swap places with me—she went to New York while I came here. It was the only way the program would let me change my location so late in the process, but it worked out.
“You sure you can’t join us?” Jack, an Australian wildlife photographer who was also in this year’s fellowship cohort, asked. “Half-off drinks at The Black Boar today.”
The Black Boar, located a few minutes’ walk away from the WYP building, was one of the fellows’ favorite pubs.
I shook my head with a regretful smile. “Next time. I’m behind on editing photos.”
I wanted to make sure the final products were top-notch because they weren’t for any ol’ workshop—they were for Diane Lange’s. The Diane Lange. I’d nearly had a heart attack when I first met her in person. She was everything I’d imagined her to be and more. She was smart, incisive, and talented beyond belief. Tough, but fair. Her passion for her art radiated from every inch of her, and I could tell she cared about us. She wanted us to succeed and be the best we could be. In a cutthroat industry rife with backstabbing and undermining other creators, her dedication to helping us perfect our craft with no ego said a lot about her character.
“Fair enough.” Jack chuckled. “See ya tomorrow then.”
“See you.” I waved goodbye and rummaged through my bag for my headphones while walking down the steps. That was the downside of carrying a large bag—it was impossible to find anything smaller than a full-sized laptop.
My fingers closed around the thin white wires right when I felt a prickle of heat on my neck. An electric awareness I hadn’t felt in months.
No.
I was afraid to look up, but my curiosity got the better of me. My pulse quickened as I lifted my eyes slowly. Higher…higher…and there he was, standing less than three feet away in a black shirt and pants, looking like a god descended from the heavens to wreak havoc on my still-fragile heart.
I swore the poor thing stopped beating.
I hadn’t seen him in person since Philadelphia, and the sight was too much. Too vivid, too overwhelming, too beautiful and horrifying. Those eyes, that face, the way I instinctively stepped toward him before I caught myself…
Oxygen grew scarce. My chest tightened the way it used to when I was near water. I could feel a panic attack coming on, and I needed to leave before I collapsed right there on the sidewalk, but my feet wouldn’t move.
This is a hallucination. It has to be.
That was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would Alex show up in London in front of my fellowship headquarters after half a year of silence?
I squeezed my eyes shut, counted to ten, and opened them again.
He was still here. In London. In front of me.
The panic intensified.
“Hi,” he said softly.
I flinched at the sound of his voice. If looking at him was a punch in the gut, hearing him was like getting steamrolled by a Mack truck.
“You can’t be here.” It was a stupid thing to say since we were on a public sidewalk and it wasn’t like I could ban him from the city of London, but oh, how I wished I could. I was already drowning in him, and it’d been less than five minutes. “Why are you here?”
Alex stuffed his hands in his pockets, his throat flexing with a hard swallow. His eyes flickered with uncertainty as they searched my face for something I wasn’t ready to give. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never seen him look so nervous. “I’m here for you.”
“You don’t need me anymore.” I almost couldn’t hear myself over the thunderous roar of my pulse. I regretted the falafel sandwich I ate for lunch, which threatened to make a messy reappearance. “You got your revenge, and I’m not interested in whatever new game you’re playing. So leave. Me. Alone.”
Pain slashed across his face. “This isn’t a game, I promise. This is just me, asking you for…not forgiveness, not right now. But hope that one day, you won’t hate me and we might get a second chance.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll always need you, Sunshine.”
Sunshine. The word tore at me, ripped off the scabs on my wounds until I bled once again.
Stop calling me Sunshine.
Why?
Because it’s not my name.
I’m aware. It’s a nickname.
“Your promises mean nothing to me.” I wrapped my arms around myself, chilled to the bone even though the sun shone high in the sky. “Even if they did, they’re six months too late.”
I’d lived less than a half-hour’s drive from Alex all those months, and he never once reached out. Now, he showed up in another country asking for a second chance? Unbelievable.
Almost as unbelievable as the small, shameful part of me that wanted to give him that second chance.
Stay strong.I’d survived multiple murder attempts. I conquered my aquaphobia. I could talk to the man who broke my heart without falling apart.
Hopefully.