Much Ado About You

Concern shone dark in her eyes.

Guilt suffused me. “Greer, no. I love you and I want nothing but your happiness . . .” I winced, feeling ashamed. “Okay, yes, it’s a little weird for me you’re pregnant. But this baby isn’t about me. It’s about you and Andre. I can’t expect everyone to stay standing still with me just because my life isn’t what I expected it to be at thirty-three years old.” I mirrored her, taking hold of her elbows. “I will not stand still anymore.”

Her fingers bit into my skin. “So, running away is the answer?”

“I know it seems like I’m running away, and for a moment I guess that’s what I was doing. But I’ve thought about it and I’m determined that’s not what this is. I’m just putting a little distance between myself and my life as it stands in Chicago. To get a little perspective.”

“Other people go to Greece for a few weeks. They don’t pay to run someone else’s store for them in the middle of nowhere England.”

I smirked at her dry tone. “I’m not other people.”

“I know.” She stepped closer to me, eyes filling with tears. “And that’s why I love you and I have . . . I have this horrible feeling I’m about to lose you.”

Understanding filled me, and I drew her into a tight hug. Greer and I met freshman year of college. We’d been friends for fifteen years, and on more than one occasion she’d told me I was the first and only person in her life she trusted to be true and steadfast to her. She came from a broken family, from parents who used their child as a pawn in their divorce battle. I had my own issues with family, and we’d bonded over the fact.

Even without our respective backgrounds, Greer and I would have always become great friends. There are people you meet in life whom you just connect with. Greer was one of those people for me. The first day we took a stroll around campus together, we lapsed into a comfortable silence. We felt no pressure to ramble awkwardly or to constantly ask questions or try to entertain each other. We could just be. Trust came easily to us. Our instincts seemed to tell us we could trust each other absolutely.

Other friends took time to find that comfortable silence and trust. We had it instantly.

I knew then that the idea of soul mates wasn’t just a romantic notion. I knew that people could find a soul mate in a friend.

“You could never lose me, Greer Bishop. You’re my family and the love of my fucking life.”

She laughed but it sounded shaky with her tears. “You’re mine too.”

“And soon”—I pulled back to glance down at her stomach—“I will be an aunt and little Baby Bishop will be the love of my life too.”

Gratitude filled her expression. “Really?”

That she would think any different made me feel a ton of remorse for my selfishness. “I’m in a weird place right now, but never think for a second that I don’t want you to have the things that bring you joy. If that’s Andre and Baby Bishop, I’ll rest easy knowing you’re where you want to be.”

“I want the same for you.” She gave me a sad smile. “I just really hope you find it here and not four thousand miles away.”

I chuckled. “I’ll be back in four weeks. I promise.”

“Don’t.” Greer took my hand and squeezed it. “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

Her genuine anxiety that I might choose to stay in England seemed ridiculous to me. Of course I was coming home. Yet I couldn’t persuade Greer of this, so all I could do was hug her close and leave her standing on that sidewalk. She’d cheer up when I returned. For now, I would enjoy my four weeks in northern England.

After I slept. I’d caught up on edits for one of my loyal indie author clients, so I hadn’t slept on the plane.

Jet lag was a bitch.

Reluctantly turning from the spectacular view, I took hold of my suitcase and crossed the road toward the terraced houses. Built of stone, like the cottages around the bend in the road, these were a story taller. Most had a front door and two sash and case wooden windows, one downstairs and one upstairs. Nearly all had been extended into the attic with a dormer window jutting out of the gray slate-tiled roofline.

One house was painted a pale blue, the one next to it was unpainted, showing off the beautiful original stonework. The one next to that was painted white, and so on.

On the end of the terraced row was a detached building—stone built but newer, bigger. Instead of two small windows, there were two large windows, one up, one down. Above the downstairs window was a sign that read: