Finding London E-Book

Ellie Wade

• Herausgeber: Ellie Wade, LLC
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

London Wright thought she’d been in love before, but she hadn’t—not even close.
Then, she met him.
Rugged and gorgeous, Loïc Berkeley, is everything she’s ever wanted. Getting him to notice her was a challenge, but keeping his love is proving to be more difficult.
London is used to getting what she wants, so loving someone like Loïc is a humbling and somewhat terrifying experience. For everything she has in her life, he’s the one thing she can’t bear to lose.
Loïc never wanted love. He views it as an unneeded distraction that always ends in disappointment, causing nothing but pain.
Then, he met her.
Spoiled but witty and breathtakingly beautiful, London Wright is his undoing. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew his life would never be the same. Though he tries to fight it, he finds himself falling for her.
Loïc has lived a life full of sorrow, but finding London brings him rare happiness. Though his feelings for her are strong, is what they have powerful enough to break the cycle of his past?
When one is destined for heartbreak and loss, can love really change anything?

Leseprobe

Copyright © 2016 by Ellie WadeAll rights reserved.Visit my website at www.elliewade.comCover Designer: Regina Wamba, Mae-I-DesignEditor and Interior Designer: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing, www.unforeseenediting.comNo part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. ISBN-13: 978-1-944495-02-2

For Tammi, who is one of the most amazing women I know. Your love and support mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I love you something fierce. Thank you for loving me. ♥

Prologue

One

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Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Other Titles by Ellie Wade

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Loïc

Age Five

Seattle, Washington

Loïc: (low-ick) of French origin; meaning famed warrior.

“You named me Loïc because it means warrior, and warriors are strong.”

—Loïc Berkeley

“I spy with my little eye something blue but not just one shade, many beautiful tones…like the blues of an ocean changing with each wave, each ripple, each ray of sunshine.”

“Um, that book cover over there,” I guess.

Daddy smiles and shakes his head. “It’s round.”

I scan my bedroom. Blue and round? “A marble in my toy box?” I beam with excitement because that has to be it.

“Nope. One more clue.”

I jump up onto my knees, so I can listen very carefully, and my mattress bounces beneath me.

“You ready?” Daddy asks.

I nod my head.

“Sometimes, the blue goes away when you sleep”—he closes his eyes before quickly opening them again—“or blink.”

I giggle because I definitely know the answer. “My eyes, Daddy.”

“Blimey! You got it!” He pulls me into a hug.

As he tickles my sides, I laugh, and we fall onto my bed. I lay my head on his arm, and he hugs me into his chest.

“I love you, Loïc,” he says.

I know that means he’s getting ready to leave.

I’m not ready to go to bed just yet. “Daddy, can you tell me a story of London?”

He chuckles. “You sure are a cunning little devil, aren’t ya? You know you’ve heard all my stories a hundred times.”

“I want to hear them two hundred times then.”

“Well, tonight, let’s focus on one hundred and one,” he says with happiness in his voice. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Nan and Granddad, your favorites, everything!”

I love Daddy’s stories.

He came from a place called London that is super far away. It’s across the ocean, and we’d need to fly in an airplane to get there. Daddy came to this country for uni—or as my mom calls it, college. That’s where they met. Daddy said that the first time he saw Mommy, he knew that he would love her forever.

London is a magical place with a queen and princes and princesses. They have beautiful old buildings that tell stories. I can’t wait to see the buildings and hear all their stories. Daddy’s favorite food is fish and chips. He says that chips are fries but better. Also, it rains a lot in London, but the rain makes it foggy and mysterious, like in a movie. He says that a lot of people take a train to work instead of a car. I’ve never been on a train before.

Nan and Granddad come to visit us every year at Christmas. They always stay with us for lots of days.

Nan loves to play card games with me. She’s really good, but I always end up winning. I think she cheats, so I can win, but she says that I win by myself.

Granddad is so funny. Sometimes, he has conversations with the wall or starts to yell at something for no reason. I think he does it because he loves to make me laugh, but Daddy says that he’s sick. Granddad has something wrong with his brain that makes him forget stuff. Daddy tells me that, someday, he won’t remember who I am, but I don’t know if I believe that.

I do know that Nan and Granddad aren’t going to come for Christmas this year because she can’t take him on the airplane anymore. I heard Mommy and Daddy talking about how Granddad threw his travel bag at another person on the plane on their way back to London last time because he thought the person was trying to steal Nan. If I thought someone was going to steal Nan, I would throw something at them, too. It’s not Granddad’s fault. He just really loves Nan.

I’m hoping they change their minds and decide to come this year, but at least I get to talk to Nan and Granddad every Sunday on the phone. I love them so much. I can’t wait to go to London to visit them.

Mommy doesn’t have a mom or dad anymore. She said they went to heaven when I was a baby. So, Daddy’s parents are the only other family I have.

I’m never lonely because my parents are the best, but it would be nice to live by my grandparents, too. I wish we could live in England with Nan and Granddad. Daddy says maybe we’ll move there when I’m a little older, if he can find a good job.

I can hardly wait to visit London, but Daddy says it is a lot of money to fly in an airplane. He is saving all his money, so we can go someday. He should have enough money soon because he works all the time.

We have to move a lot because of his work. He sells stuff for his job. Mommy says he is really good at it, too. She says he does so well because he is so handsome and charming. She really loves Daddy.

But I think he loves her most of all. Sometimes, I see him watch her when she’s not looking. He always has a big smile on his face and looks at her like she’s the most awesome Lego set he’s ever seen.

His face is like mine was when I opened my Star Wars Millennium Falcon Lego set for Christmas. I was so happy. Santa got it for me because he knew how much I wanted it. It is supposed to be for nine- to fourteen-year-olds, but I got it when I was five. Daddy said that Santa knew I had been extra good, so he made an exception. It took me and Daddy a really long time to build it, but that’s because we glued every piece. Daddy didn’t want it to break after we’d worked so hard on it.

Daddy says when you really love something, you need to take very good care of it. He always gives Mommy foot rubs and makes her tea. That’s another reason I know he loves her.

I think we don’t have enough money to go to London yet because Mommy and Daddy spend a lot of money trying to have a baby. They want me to have a brother or sister, real bad. I hear Daddy telling Nan how much it costs. It sounds like a lot.

Daddy used to give Mommy shots in her butt every day. I could tell he hated doing it, but Mommy really wanted him to, so he would. Daddy says when you love someone, you will do anything to make them happy. Apparently, the shots make Mommy happy.

The happiest I’ve ever seen Mommy was when she had a baby in her tummy. But the baby had to leave for heaven before she could come out. That’s the saddest I’ve ever seen Mommy. Daddy took extra good care of Mommy after that.

“Daddy, tell me the story about the bat at the cottage again!”

“You’ve heard that one so many times.” He chuckles.

“I know. It’s my favorite.”

Daddy’s main home growing up was right in London. He said it was a flat in the city. Mommy says that’s like an apartment. Daddy said they lived there because Granddad worked nearby. But Daddy’s grandparents had a cottage south of London on the English Channel, which Daddy says is like an ocean between England and France. Nan, Granddad, and Daddy spent all their holidays at the cottage.

Because the cottage was by the water, Daddy used to see lots of bats. He tells me all the time that bats are good creatures and that they eat all the bad bugs that sting us, like mosquitoes. But no matter how hard I try not to be, I’m very scared of bats. They’re just so ugly and creepy.

I pull the covers up to my chin. This story always scares me even though I know what happens.

Daddy tells it the same way every time. “So, I’m looking from room to room because something feels odd. In each room, I open the windows, and the stale, musty air of the closed up space is replaced with the warm, salty air of the water. It blows through the cottage, making whistling sounds as it greets the old wooden beams holding up the roof.

“After each window is wide open, I look around. Everything looks the same. That’s part of the magic of the cottage. Even though I am a year older since the last time I went, nothing within the cottage walls has changed. It is a charming place where time seems to stand still. There isn’t the hustle of the city. It is just calm.

“Finally, I get to the last bedroom and open the window. I lean against the sill and look out at the waves hitting the rocks. A few minutes pass, and I stand there, deciding that I should go and help Mum with the bags. But when I turn around, I see that I’m not alone. Right beside me, hanging upside down is a…humongous…black…bat!” He says the last word loudly as he grabs my sides.

I scream like I always do.

“So, I quickly grab a sheet from the closet, and I open it up. Very slowly, I walk over to the bat until he is within reach. Then, using the sheet as a barrier, I wrap my hands around him. As swiftly as I can, I toss him out the open window, and I watch as he flies away.”

I shudder from thinking about it. “I still can’t believe you held a bat, Daddy.”

He laughs. “Honestly, Loïc, it was only for a matter of seconds, and I didn’t touch him because I had the sheet.”

I shake my head. “I would never be able to do that. I’m not as brave as you.”

He shakes his head and smiles. “But you are, son. You’re braver than I could ever be.”

“No way, Daddy.”

“Why did Mommy and Daddy choose your name?”

“You named me Loïc because it means warrior, and warriors are strong,” I repeat what they’ve told me many times.

“Not only are they strong, but they’re also very brave, the bravest. No matter what happens in your life, Loïc, you’ll be strong enough and brave enough to conquer it all. You were already more courageous than Daddy when you were one day old. Strength isn’t measured by how many muscles you have or what you are or are not afraid of. Strength comes from within. It comes from your heart. It will give you courage to face things, even when you’re afraid.”

Sometimes, Mommy and Daddy tell me the story about how the mommy who carried me in her tummy couldn’t keep me. Doctors said I survived on my own for two days after I was born, and then someone took me to the firefighters to find me a family. I was even in the newspaper. Mommy and Daddy said they cried so much when they got to take me home because I was the answer to their prayers.

Daddy leans down and gives me a kiss. “You, my little warrior, have the biggest heart I know, and that makes you the bravest.”

London

“I already feel like a tramp with my girls on display like this.”

—London Wright

“Ah!” I scream as the cool spray of water from the hose hits the small of my back, sending an unpleasant shiver up my spine.

My best friend’s laughter saturates the hot, sticky air surrounding me. I rub my hands up and down my arms, the movement so out of place on this record-setting muggy spring day.

“You’re such a bitch.” With mock disgust, I turn to glare toward Paige’s smiling face.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it. You were just standing there, and I have this and all.” She nods toward the green garden hose in her grasp.

“Yeah. Maybe you missed the part about washing cars, not each other.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, her auburn locks cascading over her shoulders.

“Just for that, you get the first car.”

“No way. All is fair in love and war,” she protests.

“Not really sure that quote applies here, babe.” I huff out a chuckle. I grab the hair tie from my wrist. Raising my arms, I pull my now partially wet hair into a ponytail. “Can you believe this is our last philanthropic duty, like, ever?” I face Paige again.

We graduated from the University of Michigan three weeks ago, but months ago, we had signed up for this car wash as one of our required charity events with the sorority.

“No, it’s so crazy. No more washing cars, raking yards, collecting disgusting cans of peas and soup, or selling raffle tickets to win lame-ass gift baskets. It’s hard to imagine.” She rolls her eyes. “And I can hardly wait.” Her pouted lips turn up into a quirky smile.

I met Paige the first day I stepped foot on campus my freshman year. I remember walking into my dorm room to find a thin little thing with long dark hair, wearing gym shorts that barely covered her ass cheeks. She was fastening a bright pink boa to the shelf above her bed and turned toward the door when I walked in.

Her wide smile greeted me before she said, “Hey! You must be my new roomie. I hope you don’t mind pink!”

I took a quick look around to find her half of the dorm room practically shining with a rose-hued glow. Everything from her bed to her desk was decked out with twenty shades of pink accessories.

I simply replied, “Not if you don’t mind green.”

It was the first color to come to mind that might clash with pink. In truth, I liked the color green even if I didn’t actually own anything bearing its shade, and pink was my favorite color as well. So, I could tell immediately that this girl and I were going to get along just fine.

She simply replied, “Hey, whatever floats your boat.”

I would come to see that Paige was full of one-liners, and she’d sometimes use popular sayings that didn’t actually fit the scenario.

From that first meeting in the dorm room to now, Paige McAllister and I have been best friends. We were roommates all four years. We saw each other through wardrobe malfunctions, bad boyfriends, worse breakups, drunken nights, horrible hangovers, useless classes, and tedious tests. She majored in marketing, and I majored in journalism. The two degrees had a lot of the same coursework, so we took as many classes as we could together.

We rushed the Delta Delta Delta sorority together as well, which leads us to our current predicament. The Tri Deltas love to donate to various charities. This week, we are raising money for the local no-kill animal shelter, which is a great cause. Of course, I have nothing against giving money to those in need—especially puppies—but seriously, it’s such a waste of time. If every girl in our chapter donated twenty bucks—basically pocket change—to our cause of the week, then we would have more money to give to each charity than we could make on any car wash.

Then again, as I look at Paige in her string bikini, this event might actually raise money.

“You look hot, BTW,” I say to her.

Her lips press into a satisfied smile. “Thanks.”

“I mean, you do look slightly like a hooker but hot nonetheless.”

She laughs. “I’ll take it. And as they say, When in Rome. You could join my hooker status if you would take off your shorts, you know.”

“I think I’ll keep them on, thank you very much,” I say matter-of-factly. “I mean, I already feel like a tramp with my girls on display like this.” I look down to my cleavage popping out from the top of my bikini.

“Your boobs are hot. With them, we’ll for sure make some money for our furry friends. We should have made a sign with our slogan!” she says excitedly.

“What slogan is that?”

She puts her hand out in front of her. “Boobs for a cause. Raising money for puppy paws.” She bounces her hand in the air after each word, as if she can see the slogan in lights.

“That’s not bad,” I respond with a chuckle.

“So, I’m doing the first car, right?”

“Um, yeah. You haven’t forgotten your little stunt from a minute ago, have you?”

“No, that’s fine. I was just checking. So, that means, you are doing the second one?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugs with obvious mirth in her voice.

Makeshift rows have been set up in a large parking lot behind a local bank. Some of our sorority sisters have already started their washing duties, but we lucked out and got the farthest row out. The persistent low grumble of a large engine alerts me to the fact that my time chitchatting with Paige is over. I turn to face the two vehicles in our line, and I immediately understand Paige’s jovial mood.

“No way,” I protest.

“Yes way.” She giggles.

It isn’t the shiny little Toyota that catches my attention but the monstrosity of a dirty truck that is lined up behind it.

I stare, my mouth agape, at the mud-caked Ram Truck. The truck’s size itself is overwhelming. I’m going to need a ladder to reach the hood. But the dirt…seriously?

“Oh, charity,” Paige sighs, her voice rising an octave. “It just makes you feel so good inside, doesn’t it?” She skips toward the first car and waves. “Have fun,” she calls back toward me.

I close the distance between myself and the truck, internally preparing myself to greet the asshole who is sure to be inside it with a smile because I am a Tri Delt, after all.

The truck idles before me. My eyes scan from the wheels to the doors. Every inch is simply covered in a hard filth that appears to have taken up permanent residence on this truck. If the truck were taken care of, it would probably be quite an expensive vehicle.

My gaze continues upward, but I can’t force my smile to come. Chalk it up to the fact that this is my last event with the sorority or maybe that it is eighty-seven humid degrees out or that the world’s largest dick just pulled up, but I can’t seem to force my Tri Delta classiness and jovial smile. So, instead, when my eyes finish traveling up the door to the window, I am wearing a verified pissed off scowl.

That is, until I see him.

His window is rolled down, and his arm is resting against it. He’s wearing some type of military camouflage uniform—Army, I think—along with a hat of the same material, but it isn’t the commanding presence of the uniform that has me speechless.

It’s the face beneath the brown-and-tan camouflage cap.

Damn.

I don’t find myself in this predicament often. Not much can rattle me to my core, but this Adonis before me has managed to steal every coherent thought I had.

The smirk across his face should anger me—normally, it would—yet I can’t allow myself to feel annoyed when I find myself in the presence of his rugged face with those lips and deep blue eyes that seem to glimmer next to his sun-kissed skin. His sandy-blond hair is short and barely visible beneath the cap, but an image of my hand running through the hair at the nape of his neck flickers in my mind before I can stop it. He is manly perfection, plain and simple.

I’m lost in visions of hot, sweaty sex, a beautiful wedding, and making babies. Yes, loads of babies. It’s official. I’m going to marry this man.

Movement before me pulls me out of the dream playing in my head, and I see Hottie’s smirk has grown in width.

“Um…what?” I stutter ever so non-gracefully.

“I said, you should close your mouth before you swallow a bug. It’s just mud. It will come off with a little elbow grease. You’re not afraid to get a little dirty, are ya?” His deep voice sends a torrent of chills across my skin.

It takes a split second for me to realize what he’s talking about. That’s right…car wash. Got it. “Oh, I love getting dirty.” I beam before internally cringing. A huge desire to kick my own ass rushes over me.

Enough of this middle-school-starry-eyed-girl syndrome. I’m a smart, attractive twenty-two-year-old college graduate. If I’ve learned anything in the past four years, it is how to get a guy to do what I want. And, right now, I can think of a lot of things I want this particular specimen to do.

I put on my sexy smile. “Hi, I’m London. London Wright. Sorry, momentary brain lapse there. Must be the heat.” I shrug. Why did I give the car wash guy my last name?

“Yeah. It’s hot as a bitch.”

“Perfect day to make some poor college girl clean your filthy truck, huh?” I provide a smirk of my own.

“Exactly my thoughts. Although you’re anything but poor, London Wright.”

I love the way my name rolls off his tongue.

“Maybe not. But it’s not very nice of you.”

His body is turned toward the window, and I catch his name patch on the right side of his chest on his uniform.

“Berkeley,” I address him.

“It’s Loïc. If you didn’t want to wash cars, maybe you shouldn’t have put up the sign. I’m just trying to do my part for the”—he pauses momentarily as he looks back at one of the posters—“puppies.”

“Yeah, well,” I say in my favorite flirty voice, “if you really wanted to help the puppies and me, you could just donate some money and drive through an actual car wash before picking me up for a date later.”

His laughter booms through the truck cab as his head falls to the headrest behind him. “You’re something else, London. Does that sort of line work for you often?”

“Well, to be honest, I usually don’t have to work too hard. But I’ve found, when I see something I want, the best approach is a straightforward one.” I pause. “And to answer your question, yes, my lines always work for me.”

He takes me in, his beautiful blues squinting slightly.

I can’t make out his thoughts, but the silence is uncomfortable, so I continue, “So, I hear a slight accent in your voice. Where are you from?”

“A little bit of everywhere, I guess.”

“From the South?” I question.

“Partly.”

“You’re not giving much away, are ya?”

“Nope,” he answers.

My eyes are drawn to his lips and the way they form a perfect pout after he finishes that word.

“Loïc…that’s a different name. Is there a story behind it?”

“Maybe. Is there a story behind yours?”

“Yes, there is. Would you like to go out later, and I can tell you all about it?” I’m starting to get irritated with his evasiveness.

“Nope,” he says again, putting emphasis on the P sound.

Oh, crap. He must be married.

My eyes dart to his left hand that falls from the open window.

A rumbly chuckle vibrates through his chest as he assesses me while I squint toward his ring finger. “I’m not married, London, and I’m not in a relationship.”

“Oh,” is my only response.

“I am in a hurry though and in need of a truck washin’, so if you wouldn’t mind getting started, that would be awesome.”

My mouth drops open, but I quickly close it while rolling my eyes toward Loïc, God of Assholes—drop-dead gorgeous ones but assholes nonetheless.

“Right,” I snap, turning to grab the hose.

Ugh, what a jerk.

Unadulterated fury powers me through cleaning the truck. In actuality, most of the crap comes right off with a simple spray of the hose, but the truck itself is inconsequential at this point. What is driving my rage is Loïc sitting pretty inside the cab of his truck, his fingers tapping away at his phone. He seems completely oblivious of me. Although I’m pissed, I’m still using every opportunity I can to get his attention.

Isn’t watching a half-naked chick leaning over a wet truck some sort of fantasy for guys?

Yet, every time I glance his way to see if he’s checking out my ass, I find that he’s not. He’s staring at his damn phone.

Maybe he’s gay. He has to be.

But I didn’t get that vibe from him in the least.

He’s just some Army jerk.Why do I care?

I finish spraying his truck down and stand outside his closed window. He doesn’t look up until I tap against the glass. When the window is open, a rush of urgency comes over me. I’m suddenly inundated with this longing to say something to keep him here, to make him want me.

Part of me knows that, when he drives away, I will never see him again. For reasons that escape me, that thought terrifies me. I don’t know anything about Loïc besides that he drives a big truck, he might have lived in the South at some point in his life, and he’s in some sort of military service.

But it’s not about what I know of him. It’s what I see in him. Behind his insane good looks is something. I’m not sure what it is, but I want to find out. I need to find out. And the fact that he doesn’t seem to be interested is causing me to panic.

His right eyebrow rises. “All done?”

“Yeah, it’s five dollars,” I answer with a sigh.

There is so much I want to say to him, but none of it seems appropriate or, to be honest, sane. I shouldn’t feel this range of emotions toward a stranger, and I’m starting to wonder if the heat is getting to my head.

He hands me a twenty. “Keep the change”—his deep blues send an electrifying current through me—“for the puppies. And, London?”

My eyes expectantly shoot up to his.

“Thank you,” he says before pushing his gearshift into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.

London

“Why didn’t he want me? I’m amazing.”

—London Wright

I turn my attention from the How I Met Your Mother rerun that I’ve been watching to face my best friend, who is sitting at the other end of the couch. She is being awfully chatty at the moment and has been talking my ear off, ruining the better half of this show with her obsessive babbling. Granted, I’ve watched this particular episode at least three times, but that’s not the point.

She must notice my less than amused look. “Listen up, girlfriend. You need to stop this little pouting session that you have going on. It’s getting annoying. As they always say, When it rains, it pours.” Paige plops a corner of her frosted Pop-Tart into her mouth.

“What exactly do you mean by that? What’s raining?” I ask, my eyebrow quirking up in question.

Paige looks at me like I have two heads, her face scrunched up in confusion. “How am I supposed to know? That’s just what they say.” She shrugs.

I chuckle. “Well, Paigey Poo, the entire point of using an expression like that is to have it make sense to the situation and, by extension, help in some way. Your sayings never fit what is going on, so there’s really no point in saying them at all.”

“I say them because I like to. It makes me sound”—she pauses, thinking of the exact word she wants to say—“smart.”

I can’t hold in my laughter, and an obnoxious roar of giggles comes from my mouth. “No, it doesn’t.” I wipe the few stray tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. “It actually has the opposite effect. You do know this, right?”

She plops another piece of her Pop-Tart into her mouth, her expression one of annoyance.

“It’s just, when you say something that doesn’t make sense, it makes you sound a little silly. I love you, silly and all…but I’m just saying.” I give her a sheepish smile.

“You can just say all you want, but I will continue to say what I want even if you think I sound stupid.” She narrows her eyes at me.

“I never said you were stupid.”

“Yeah, you basically did,” she huffs out.

I let out an exhale. “You’re right. Say whatever the hell you want. I’m in a bitchy mood, and I’m sorry that I’m taking it out on you.”

Paige crosses her legs underneath herself and leans in toward me, a wide smile on her face. “You’re forgiven. So, are you really still all grumpy over hot Army guy?”

I sigh. “I think so. The whole thing is ridiculous. I don’t even know him. I have no idea why his dismissal made me so mad.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure this is what we call the first-time blues.” She nods her head with her lips pressed into a line.

“Huh?”

Her hands flail as she talks, “It’s obvious, isn’t it? This is the first time you’ve ever been turned down, and your ego is throwing a pity party.”

I absently chew on my lip, thinking about her words.

She continues, “It was bound to happen, London. You can’t take it personally. Not everyone in the world will be attracted to you.”

I squint my eyes toward Paige. Irritation lines my voice as I say, “You make me sound like a stuck-up snob.”

“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She shrugs.

“We’re bringing my mom into this now?”

She’s right. My mom is a total snob.

Paige looks at me in confusion. “Why would I bring your mom into this?”

“You said that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“So?”

I roll my eyes. “That means that I’m like my parents.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Paige shakes her head. “I don’t know why you’re bringing your mom into this. Yes, she is a little snooty, but you know I would never compare you to her.”

I groan. “We’re talking about my parents right now because your little saying implied that I was like them.” My voice rises an octave with annoyance. “Did you mean to say, If the shoe fits? Because I think that might make more sense here if you meant that I can be a snob.”

“Yeah, whatever. All I’m saying is, you have established certain expectations, and this Army dude didn’t act accordingly, so you’re butthurt. You need to move on. You know what they say, The best way to get over someone is to get someone else under you.”

I laugh. “‘They’”—I raise my hands and bend my fingers in air quotations around the word—“totally do not say that, and now, you’re making me sound like a slut. Have you always hoped your best friend would be a snobby slut?”

She giggles. “I’m not calling you a slut—or a snob really, for that matter. You know I love you exactly the way you are. I guess all I’m saying is, we need to go out tonight. You know, to get you out of your funk.”

“All of that”—I raise my hand in the air, my finger drawing a circle between Paige and me—“was just to say that we need to go out?”

“Yeah!” She grins. “This awesome club band is playing at Necto tonight. Some of the girls were talking about going. I’m sure you could find someone to make out with. That would totally make you feel better.” She winks.

“I could use a night out. Good plan,” I say through a smile. “But, for the record, why didn’t he want me? I’m amazing.”

My phone buzzes against the couch, and I peer down to see my mom’s face on the screen.

“Speaking of trees,” I say to Paige.

“I thought we moved on to shoes?” She looks to me in question.

I laugh. “I can’t keep track with you. Anyway, I’m going to take this, and then we’ll pre-party.”

“Yay!” She claps her hands together. “I’ll get my shower out of the way.”

I love our pre-party ritual that we’ve perfected over the past four years. It consists of snacks, music, drinks, and a couple of hours to style our hair and makeup to utter flawlessness. Someday soon, when we decide to grow up and get real jobs—or employment, period—I’m sure these nights are going to be few and far between. But, for now, I’m going to relish in the joy they bring.

“Hey, Mom,” I say into my phone.

My mom doesn’t call often. She usually communicates through text, so I’m sure she has some news to share.

“Baby girl! How are you? How’s life since graduation? Anything exciting going on? Have you applied for any jobs?”

“No, not really. And, no, not yet.”

“Oh, that’s fine. You have plenty of time,” she says with sincerity.

Exactly. I’ve only been out of college for a month. My mom gets me.

“Have you heard from Georgia?” she asks.

My younger sister is spending the summer between her junior and senior year at Stanford gallivanting through Europe with a group of her friends.

“Not really. I mean, you follow her on Instagram, Mom. You see the same stuff I do.”

“I know. I just didn’t know if she’d called or texted you. She has an international plan. It wouldn’t hurt her to use it.”

I chuckle. “Mom, she’s having fun. She’s fine. She posts proof-of-life photos every day. She’ll call if she has free time, but I’m sure she’s just busy with soaking in new experiences.”

“I know. It’s just weird not to get daily texts from her. You know your sister; she always needs something.”

I can hear the smile in her voice.

“So, not hearing from her is a good thing. It means that she’s figuring things out on her own.”

“I suppose,” she sighs.

“How’s Dad?”

“Oh, you know, working himself to the bone, per usual.”

My dad has made a name for himself in the business world—or at least, I assume he has based on how much money he earns. He’s in the business of mergers and acquisitions. According to him, that means he buys, sells, divides, and/or combines companies in order to help them be successful.

My mom, on the other hand, doesn’t work—at least at anything that brings in money. She keeps busy though. Her social calendar is always full.

“Oh, that’s why I called. We’re moving.”

My parents currently live in New York City. They’ve actually been there for a few years, which might be the longest they’ve ever stayed in the same location. Growing up, it felt like we moved once a year on average. My dad goes wherever his job leads him, and my mom follows.

“Where to?”

“Louisville, Kentucky. We bought a house in a nice suburb outside of the city.”

“Oh, that’s great, Mom. How long will you be there?”

“Who knows? You know how it is.” She chuckles.

“Please say you’re going to keep your apartment in New York.”

They have an awesome place downtown. It’s within walking distance of everything, and it’s so convenient when visiting the city.

“Yeah, I think we are—for a while. It’s nice to have a place here, and your father always seems to have meetings here, regardless of where we’re living.”

“Oh, good. I love it there.”

“Me, too. I’ll miss it, but I’m sure the change of pace will be nice as well.”

“I’m sure,” I agree.

“Well, of course, our numbers will stay the same. I’ll text you the new address. We’re departing for Kentucky tomorrow. We’ll leave everything here in the apartment besides some personal items that have already been moved. Other than that, the designers have the new house all ready. It’s beautiful. I hope you can make it down to visit soon.”

“I’ll try, Mom. Not really sure what my summer plans are, but maybe I can fit in a trip.”

“Thanks, honey. Oh, I have to go and get ready for this new acroyoga class I’m taking.”

“Acroyoga?”

“Oh, yes. It’s great. It’s like yoga and includes all sorts of bendy positions, except I have a base—a guy beneath me. He lifts me with his legs so that all the moves are done up in the air. It’s so fun. You should try it.”

“It sounds slightly dangerous and a little scandalous. Be careful, Mom.”

“Oh, it’s fine.” She laughs. “Talk soon, honey. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

I shoot Georgia a text to tell her that I love her and hope she’s having a ball. I end by telling her to give Mom a quick call when she can. I have no idea what time it is over on that continent, but she’ll get my text at some point.

I turn on my pre-party playlist as I step into the shower. A smile crosses my face as the hot water falls over me. I am so ready for a night of fun.