Come Back To What You Know

Chapter 1

Charley

My knuckles loosen their vice-like grip on the armrests as the 'seat belts on' sign clicks off. We're fully in the air, and I finally unclench my now aching muscles. Anyone would think I've never flown before. The truth is, it's been a while. Just shy of two years. This will be my first Christmas in the UK in a while, and I hope to hell it'll be enough to cancel out the pain of last year's.

In eight hours, my feet will touch home soil, and in twenty-four hours… I’ll get to see him. My stomach rolls at the thought. It's really happening. My grip tightens on the arm rests again as my head swims a little. The anticipation is making me woozy, and I grapple in my bag for my bottle of water, pushing my long hair behind my ear as I sit back up. My clumsy fingers struggle to unscrew the lid, and I almost drop the bottle twice due to the moisture on my palms.

Relax, Charley. You can't keep this up the whole way home.

But what if this is a mistake? What if I've made the wrong decision?

"Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, but, are you okay, dear?"

I freeze for a moment before slowly turning my head to the left. In my panic, I really hadn't taken the time to notice who's beside me or around me. My only focus had been to get my butt– arse–in the seat and try not to pass out from the dramatic turn my life is about to take.

The lady beside me has an English accent. On a flight from Chicago to London, there was a fifty-fifty-ish chance that I'd be near a fellow Brit. I glance farther along the row to the seat next to hers and deduce she's probably on her own too. The guy in his early twenties beside her is turned away from her, earbuds firmly in his ears. Unless he's a particularly moody son, I figure it's safe to assume my neighbour is flying solo.

"I... I'm not sure," I mumble, my fingers gripping my water bottle, making the plastic crackle under the pressure.

The lady rests a gentle hand over mine and smiles warmly. "Well, it's a long flight. You've no reason to talk to a stranger, but if you'd like to, I can't sleep on planes and I don't much care for movies, so I'll just be here reading. If you fancy a natter, just let me know."

I return her smile, my fingers uncurling slightly as I take in her appearance. Her brown hair is pulled back tightly into a neat bun, and she has kind eyes. She wears a white blouse, a black knee-length skirt, and a dark green jacket. Something about her makes me think of a young Professor McGonagall—semi-casual, ready for a staff night out at The Three Broomsticks. The thought makes me chuckle.

"Thank you." I try to cover up my adolescent giggle. "I... Yeah. I might take you up on that. I'm Charley, by the way."

"Anita." She holds her hand out to me and I shake it. As we let go, she says, "Okay. What's got you in such a tizzy?"

I close my eyes for a few seconds, exhaling long and slow while I try to figure out the correct starting point. As my eyelids lift, I open my mouth to begin my story.

Chapter 2

Charley

Twenty-Four Months Ago

Christmas Eve

“Becky, is this really happening?”

My friend chuckled as she handed me a glass of sparkling white wine and guided me back to the seats we’d claimed in our favourite pub. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking as we sat down.

“Charley, relax.” Becky placed her hand over mine once our glasses were firmly down on the table. “He’s excited to meet you. He’ll be here.”

I tried to swallow then took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. “You and I both know this has not worked out well for us in the past. And I can’t help thinking, with it being Christmas Eve and all…” I trailed off and reached for my drink, gulping it back ungracefully before placing it back down in front of me. “He’s not coming.”

“He is,” Becky insisted. “Do you think I would set you up with an unreliable dickhead?”

“No, but-”

She held up her hand. “Stop it. He. Is. Coming.”

I allowed myself to smile. Her firm tone left no room for argument.

That didn’t stop the nerves, though. Brayden McKie had been harder to get hold of than a bar of soap in a hot shower. Becky, a friend of mine from work, had told me six months ago that she had a guy friend who would be perfect for me. Naturally, I’d rolled my eyes. At twenty-three, I wasn’t sure I was at a point in my life where I needed to be set up. But apparently, we had a lot in common. So, I humoured her. Since she had already told him about me, she gave him my Facebook details and we’d added each other as friends.

And that was where our story—almost—began.

Brayden was by far the best-looking guy I’d ever seen. We’re talking ridiculous good looks. Dark hair that was the right side of scruffy to still be cool, a slightly stubbled jawline, and the bluest eyes. The kind you could stare in to for a lifetime and never get bored.

We’d messaged a lot, and inevitably, we’d eventually arranged to meet. However, all three times, things had gotten in the way, and now it was Christmas Eve. No work interruptions. Neither of us had become unwell. This was it.

I was ready, but also sick with nerves.

Because Becky had been r

ight. We had so much in common it was insane. We listened to the same music, loved the same movies, enjoyed eating out at the same restaurants. We even had the same taste in trashy TV shows. Numerous times we’d stayed up all night messaging, and sometimes FaceTiming. On paper, he couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d picked him out of a catalogue. But it was about to be time to see if all of that translated to real chemistry.

If I was honest with myself, I was as afraid we would hit it off as much as I was afraid we wouldn’t. The thing was, five months ago, I’d been offered a job in Chicago, teaching English as a foreign language. I couldn’t pass up that opportunity when everything was already organised for me. I’d been assigned an apartment with a roommate, and my work visa was sorted out. All I had to do was pack and get on the plane.

So, if Brayden and I got along as well as I thought we would, I was leaving for a year after Christmas, and that would really hurt. And if we didn’t… well, I’d wasted six months waiting to meet a guy who turned out to be a dud. We both knew the deal, but it didn’t make it any easier.

This is a no-win situation, Charley. Maybe you should just go home…

“Hey,” Becky said, bringing my attention back to her. “Since we’ve already finished these drinks, let’s go and dance for a while. Take your mind off the nerves!”

As she spoke, the Christmas tunes were cranked up by the DJ, and everyone cheered, several people getting to their feet. Becky buried our handbags under our coats, and we stood. We weren’t going too far from them anyway.

It was impossible not to get caught up in the excitement; we were surrounded by tinsel and fairy lights, and there was a stunning Christmas tree in the back corner, lit up and decorated beautifully. As the opening bars of All I Want For Christmas is You played, Becky and I twirled each other around, laughing and exchanging smiles and jokes with the people dancing near us.

I would miss this when I went away. I would miss spending time with Becky every other weekend. She'd been a good friend to me since we met at work, and although we'd never quite become besties, we always had a lot of fun together. I tried to block out that rush of panic that kept overwhelming me when I thought about being so far away from home. I'd barely left the UK before, so Chicago was going to be a gigantic leap of faith. I just hoped people liked me. I never found it hard to make friends, but there was a whole different way of life over there. I was a small town girl in comparison to their big city lifestyles.

Becky stopped dancing and stretched up on her tiptoes to look over people's bobbing heads towards the doorway. Then she looked at me and beamed.

"He's here!"

A whole different kind of panic rushed through me, and I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the nausea.

It really was happening. After all this time, I was about to meet Brayden.

Becky nudged me in the side, chuckling. "Don't just stand there! Come on, let's go get you two introduced."

I gave her a nervous smile in return, and she took my hand and pulled me through the dancing crowds, both of us getting jostled along the way.

I really wanted to look up, but I was so conscious of not treading on anyone in my six-inch heels, I kept my head lowered until we got past the revellers.

And there he was. Just waiting at the edge of the dance floor, wearing a long black coat, with a red scarf around his neck.

Oh, wow.