I brush my hand over his forehead, pushing the mass of hair away, and move down to touch the light stubble that darkens his jawline. His eyelids flutter and I quickly pull away and stand to my feet. I don’t want to wake him, his sleep wasn’t the least bit peaceful either. I wish I knew what was haunting him. I wish he hadn’t closed down so abruptly. He revealed everything to me in the letter that he wrote me—and later destroyed—and while most of the things he referred to concerned terrible mistakes he’d made, I’ve dealt with them and moved on. Nothing he did in his past will cause any damage to our future. He needs to know this. He has to know this, or it will never work.

The bathroom isn’t hard to find, and I wait patiently for the water to turn from brown to clear. The shower is loud and the water pressure is very strong, almost painful, but it does wonders for the tension I’ve accumulated in my back and shoulder muscles.

I’m fully dressed in a pair of jeans and a cream tank top, but I hesitate before pulling on a floral-print lace sweater. It doesn’t have buttons, which means Hardin can’t demand that I close it; he’s lucky I’m not wearing the tank top alone. It’s spring now, and here in Central London it feels like it.

Trish didn’t give me a specific time for our little jaunt today, so I head downstairs to make a pot of coffee. An hour later, I return upstairs to grab my e-reader so I can read for a while. Hardin has turned over onto his back, and his face is set in a full frown. Without disturbing him, I quickly leave the room and find my way back to the kitchen table. A couple of hours pass, and I’m relieved when Trish comes walking through the back door. Her brown hair is pulled back, just like mine, in a low bun, and she’s dressed in—what else—a tracksuit.

“I was hoping you’d be awake, I wanted to give you some time to sleep in after the long day you had yesterday.” She smiles. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

I glance toward the narrow staircase one last time, hoping that Hardin will stroll down it with a smile and a kiss goodbye, but that doesn’t happen. I grab my purse and follow Trish out the back door.

chapter

one hundred and thirty-three

HARDIN

When I reach for Tessa, she isn’t in the bed. I don’t know what time it is, but the sun is too damn bright, pouring through the uncovered windows like it’s trying to force me awake. I slept like shit all night, and Tessa kept tossing and turning in her sleep. I was awake most of the night, keeping my distance from her restless body. I need to get a grip before I ruin this entire weekend for her, but I just can’t seem to shake my paranoia. Not after my mum had the nerve to invite Susan Kingsley to have lunch with her and Tessa.

I don’t bother changing my clothes, just brush my teeth and toss some water onto my hair. Tessa has taken a shower already; her toiletry bag is tucked away neatly in the otherwise empty cabinet.

When I get to the kitchen, the coffeepot is still hot and half full, and a rinsed coffee mug rests on the counter. Tessa and my mum must have already left; I should’ve spoken up and kept her from going. Why didn’t I? This day can go one of two ways: Susan could be a complete bitch and make it hell for Tessa¸ or she could keep her goddamn mouth shut, and everything could be fine.

What the fuck am I supposed to do all day while my mum has Tessa prancing around town? I could go find them, it wouldn’t be hard, but my mum would probably be upset, and after all, tomorrow is her wedding day. I promised Tess that I’d be on my best behavior this weekend, and even though I’ve already broken the promise, I don’t need to make it any worse.

chapter

one hundred and thirty-four

TESSA

Your hair looks so beautiful.” Trish reaches a newly manicured hand across the table to touch my head.

“Thank you. I’m getting used to it.” I smile, looking into the mirror directly behind our table. The woman at the spa was appalled that I had never dyed my hair before. After a few minutes of persuading, I agreed to darken it slightly, but only at the roots. The final color is a very light brown fading into my natural blond toward the ends. The difference is barely noticeable and looks much more natural than I expected. The color isn’t permanent; it’ll only last a month. I wasn’t ready for a longer-term change, but the more I look at myself in the mirror, the more I like what I see.

The woman did wonders on my eyebrows, too, plucking them into a perfect arch, and my nails and toes are painted a deep red. I declined Trish’s offer to get a Brazilian wax; as much as I’ve considered getting one, it would be awkward to do it with Hardin’s mother, and I’m fine with shaving for now. During the walk to the car, Trish teases me about my flimsy shoes, the same way her son does, and I hold back from making a dig at her daily tracksuit-wearing.

I stare out the window the entire drive, taking in every single home, building, store, and person on the street.

“This is the place,” Trish says minutes later as she pulls her car into a covered parking lot nestled between two small buildings. I follow her to the entrance of the smaller of the two.

I notice that there’s moss covering the entirety of the brick building, and the sight of it calls forth my inner Landon, as references to The Hobbit pass through my mind. Landon would think the exact same thing if he were here, and we’d share a laugh while Hardin griped about how terrible the movies are and how they destroyed J.R.R. Tolkien’s vision. Landon would argue back, as always, claiming that Hardin secretly loves the movies, and Hardin would flip him off. Selfishly, I imagine a place where Hardin, Landon, and I could live close to one another, a place where Landon and Dakota could live in Seattle, maybe in the same building as Hardin and me. A place where one of the few people who actually care about me won’t be moving across the country in a few weeks.

“It’s pretty warm today; do you want to eat outside?” Trish asks, gesturing to the metal tables lined along the terrace.

“That would be fine.” I smile, following her to a table at the end of the row.

The waitress brings a pitcher of water to our table and places two glasses in front of us. Even the water looks better in England; the pitcher is filled with ice and perfectly shaped lemon circles.

Trish’s eyes search the sidewalks. “We have one more joining us . . . she should be here any—There she is!”

I turn to see a tall brunette bustling across the street, her hands waving in the air. Her floor-length skirt and high heels are making it difficult for her to move as quickly as she appears to be trying to do.

“Susan!” Trish’s face lights up at the woman’s clumsy entrance.

“Trish, darling, how are you?” Susan leans down to kiss both of Trish’s cheeks before turning to me and doing the same. I feel awkward as I smile uncomfortably, unsure whether or not I should return the unfamiliar greeting.

The woman’s eyes are a deep blue, making for the most beautiful contrast with her pale skin and dark hair. She pulls away before I can decide what to do. “You must be Theresa; I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you.” She smiles and surprises me by taking both of my hands into hers. She gently squeezes them and gives me a bright smile before pulling out the chair next to me and taking a seat.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I smile at her. I have no idea what to make of the woman. I know that I don’t like the way that hearing her name affected Hardin last night, but she seems so lovely, it’s confusing.