Chapter 1
“Hey, Vi. I just landed,” I state excitedly into the phone as I hurry through the bustling Heathrow Airport trying my hardest not to skip because I’m so happy to be off the damn plane.
It’s an eight-hour flight from Chicago to London, but the arrival is even more appreciated when you’ve spent an entire day in the airport with a never-ending delay.
“Hiya, Allie! So glad you finally made it.” My cousin Vi’s voice is warm and motherly like I remembered.
Ever since my cousins’ mother passed away about twenty years ago, Vi took on the maternal role in their family.
I was here for the funeral, and the death of my aunt, Vilma Harris.
It changed the dynamic of our family, specifically the relationship between our dads—once brothers who were extremely close, now separated by so much more than an ocean.
“I’m glad I made it, too.” I blow a piece of hair out of my face. “And I’m leaving no room for jet lag.”
Vi huffs, “After the shit couple of weeks you’ve had, you didn’t deserve to have flight issues.”
“A shit half a decade is more like it,” I mumble as I swerve to miss an airport employee who’s pushing a woman in a wheelchair at superhuman speed.
“Have you heard from…Oh, what is the hilarious nickname you have for your ex?”
“Ghost Penis,” I answer with zero humour in my tone and attempt to blink away the aching thump in my temples. I refuse to voice his full name ever again. “And yes, I’ve heard from him. But I’m ignoring his calls. I’ve wasted enough of my life on him.”
Parker Frost and I met freshman year in college, and I thought he was going to propose after graduation. When he didn’t, I remained patient. I told myself that we were still young and just starting our careers. We had plenty of time to plan our future.
Then, two weeks ago, I walked into the apartment I shared with my stepsister, Rosalie, and caught her on my bed. On top of my purple paisley comforter. Fucking my boyfriend like it was her last day on Earth. She didn’t even have the decency to pull back my bedspread. Fucking animal.
Since then, my life has been a drunken blur of moving out, burning that horrible comforter, cursing the colour purple, and swearing to my coworkers that I wasn’t Googling “how to get away with murder.” I wasn’t sure which of the offenders I wanted to kill more…
My stepsister or my boyfriend of five years.
Vi’s calming voice snaps me back to reality when she says, “Well, I’m glad you’re not giving Ghost Penis the time of day. He doesn’t deserve it. Neither does that joke of a sister you have.”
“Rosalie is soon to be an ex-stepsister, so thank goodness for small favours.”
“That’s right,” Vi replies. “This will be your father’s third divorce, right?”
“Yep. And the timing couldn’t be better,” I grumble, shaking my head at how messed up my father is when it comes to his relationships.
When I was eight years old, my father, Charles Harris, divorced my mother, Karen, because he received a big job offer in the States and she refused to move.
Weeks later, she met her current husband, Jon, in some travel-lovers club.
They all but ran away together, leaving me to move overseas with my father—the stable-looking one in the marriage.
My father’s second wife was some young thing whom I barely remember because their marriage only lasted for a year and they lived apart half the time. His third wife, Hilary, actually stuck around for over a decade but is now suffering the same fate as the others.
My voice is resigned when I add, “It will be nice not to be attached to my stepsister anymore, but I still haven’t told Dad about what happened. I’m terrified that he won’t be sympathetic, and I can’t handle that iciness right now.”
My dad and I have a bit of a strained relationship.
Charles Harris has never been a warm and loving father like the ones I’ve seen in so many TV shows.
I always assumed it was because he was British and they were built differently.
But when he married Hilary, I realised he was capable of showing actual human emotion.
At least he did when it came to her daughter.
Comparing Rosalie and me side by side, you’d probably think we were biological sisters.
We were the same age and both had golden blonde hair and blue eyes.
We were mistaken as twins a lot, which I actually loved.
It was like I instantly got the sibling I’d yearned for all my life as an only child.
Rosalie and I got along well, too, even moving in to an apartment together after college.
As time passed, I began to notice how much my father gave in to Rosalie’s every need.
I tried not to be jealous because her own father abandoned her when she was ten years old and I knew how hard that was on her.
Apparently he’d gotten another woman pregnant with the son he’d always wanted, and he discarded Rose and her mother in favour of his other life.
My parents may be selfish assholes, but at least they haven’t completely left me for another child.
“Have you spoken to your mum about everything that’s happened?” Vi asks, her voice tight.
I exhale heavily. “No. She and Jon are backpacking through Poland this week. I didn’t even tell her I was coming to London. I’m not going to be here long, and I don’t need her drama on top of my own.”
Vi tsks knowingly because most people are aware that my mother is a flake. Sweet and caring, but consumed by her own life.
“Well, it’s good you’re here,” Vi states with renewed vigour, her tone taking on that matriarchal sound again. “My family may be loud, obnoxious, and completely dysfunctional, but we love bigger than life. I think you could use a healthy dose of real family right now.”
Her last comment causes a knot to form in my throat that I forcefully swallow down to the dark part of my soul that’s been holding in all of my emotions the past two weeks. Not today, Satan. Not today.
“And just you wait until you lay eyes on the date I found you for Aunt Fiona’s wedding!” she peals into the line. “You won’t give Ghost Penis another thought.”
A smile tugs on the corner of my mouth. Hearing Vi say “Ghost Penis” out loud is seriously awesome, but that’s not what pleases me.
What pleases me is hearing that she’s set me up with someone hot.
My date is the exact reason I came to London.
Frankly, it’s the only thing I’ve been excited about since my entire life was turned upside down.
The reason being, I have a payback plan all worked out for how I’m going to show Parker and Rosalie they haven’t broken me.
Thankfully, Vi is well-connected and a willing co-conspirator.
Her four brothers—my wild, unruly cousins—play professional soccer in England.
Two of them play for their dad, Vaughn Harris’ team, Bethnal Green F.C.
That means that Vi is often surrounded by hot, sweaty athletes—the lucky bitch.
Never mind that she’s six months pregnant and engaged, she was still able to hook me up with exactly what I need.
Epic. Fucking. Rebound. Sex.
One night, no strings, and a payback to rival what those two assholes put me through. Then I’m back on a plane to Chicago to rebuild what’s left of my semblance of a life.
“Tanner and Booker are picking you up outside,” Vi explains, cutting into my Dr. Evil scheming. “They’ll be in a big, ghastly truck, so you shouldn’t miss them.”
I smile as faint memories of my cousins seep into my mind.
It doesn’t surprise me that the Harris Brothers drive a big truck.
They were never known to be discreet, which is what made them so much fun.
As an only child, Vi and her brothers were always the most exciting part of family gatherings for me.
They were like a live circus act existing solely for my entertainment.
I lost touch with the Harris clan after the move, outside of regular emails with Vi. I do, however, try to keep up with the boys’ soccer careers because they’re actually really impressive.
The oldest Harris Brother, Gareth, is a defender for Manchester United. Camden just signed with Arsenal a month ago, leaving his twin, Tanner, and their youngest brother, Booker, the last two still playing for the local London club, Bethnal Green F.C.
“Do Tanner and Booker know you set me up with their teammate?” I ask as I make my way to the passenger pickup area.
“Erm, not exactly. Tanner’s been a bit of a mess lately since Camden left the team, so I didn’t want to stir things up quite yet.”
“Won’t he figure it out at the wedding?” I ask, my face scrunching up with anxiety over how badly that could go down.
Vi scoffs. “If I’m there to run interference, they’ll be quiet as church mice. Being pregnant has made them treat me with kid gloves, so my large circumference should work to our advantage. It’s basically my super power.”
This makes me smile. “Lucky for me, pregnancy doesn’t seem to affect your badass wing-woman skills.”
“Not one bit,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to see you!”
We finish our chat just as I burst through the airport doors and into the damp summer air of the outskirts of London. Before I even have a chance to take in the scenery, my eyes zero in on something horrendous.
A big black pickup is parked by the curb, smack dab in front of the door.
Standing up on the tailgate is a well over six-foot blonde, bearded animal with a man bun, inked arms, and a shit-eating grin to rival Jack Nicholson.
As if his location in the bed of the truck alone isn’t conspicuous enough, he’s holding up a large sign that reads: WELCOME HOME FROM PRISON, COUSIN ALICE.
I stop midstride with my carry-on clutched firmly in my grasp and, to my horror, his eyes land on me.
“Alice?” The Big Foot-looking man shouts my name loudly over the traffic, and the people walking by turn to gawk at me.