Chapter Twenty-Nine
She knew it wasn’t physically possible, but she swore she heard Alex’s screech from all the way across the Atlantic.
I’m sorry, you’re doing what?
Marcee Ackerman, tell me you didn’t book a flight to London without
me!
Hello?
You better answer me or else!
What is going on? Call me the minute you get these.
There was no way she could handle customs and baggage claims while being berated by her annoyed, but well-meaning, best friend.
She shot Alex a text as she exited the plane, letting her know she would call her as soon as she got a cab.
Belatedly, Marcee realized it was around midnight back in Belle Cliff.
Knowing Alex, though, she’d probably stayed awake as long as she could until Marcee responded.
True to form, as soon as she got her bag from the carousel, Alex sent her a gif of a cartoon character tapping her foot impatiently.
Thirty minutes later in customs, languishing in a line that brought back traumatic memories of concerts past, the jet lag set in and the high of rushing to London began to wear off.
Still, Marcee couldn’t believe she was almost in Remy’s hometown. Not quite a town, sure, but it was where Remy grew up and cut his teeth on the soccer field. And it was where he was now, which was all that mattered.
The line shuffled forward and the chatter around her, thick with English accents, stirred the apprehension and longing in her heart.
The man she loved—who she’d been separated from for two weeks—was mere miles from her.
On the plane, it all seemed surreal, but standing in Heathrow, the reality was almost too much.
“Work or pleasure?” the customs agent asked congenially, stamping her passport.
“Love!” Marcee stuffed her passport into her purse and grinned.
The agent smirked and waved her through. “Both, then. Good luck!”
Marcee was still grinning when a new text came through.
Made it to jolly old England, mate?
She laughed out loud, trying to imagine Eli’s terrible imitation of a British accent.
I did. Making my way through the airport as we speak. What are you
doing awake this late?
Despite her having called to bail on him and the job for a man who could very well not want her again, he was surprisingly enthusiastic about her last-minute plan.
“Are you kidding, princess?” he’d exclaimed. “This is rom-com movie level stuff here. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you to go for it?”
She’d been in line at the ticket counter at La Guardia, purchasing a late flight overseas.
“I can’t believe I let us go so long without talking,” she’d told him, tearing up. “I’m sorry, Eli. Truly. Friends forever?”
It was quiet for long enough she worried the call dropped.
“Eli?” she’d asked.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he’d said, voice thicker than it had been before. He cleared his throat and said, “Friends forever. Now, go get your man.”
The wheels of Marcee’s suitcase clacked across the floor, muffled by the hundreds of people making moves around her.
It took a few wrong turns, but she found her way outside to a line of cabs, the morning air and sunshine hitting her in the face.
She’d been awake so long it felt like walking out of a casino after an all-night card game.
Eli’s response came in as she handed her bag over to the cab driver.
Was waiting to hear from you, of course. No, wait! I just got home
from a hot date. She kept me up late. Wink wink.
As smooth as ever
The back of the cab shouldn’t be so comfortable, so she struggled to keep her eyes open after she gave the address of the bed and breakfast she booked online. As her eyes fluttered shut, she was jolted awake by Alex’s ringtone.
“Crap,” she muttered, fumbling with the phone. Alex was going to be pissed.
“Hello.”
“What happened to calling me as soon as you got off the plane? I’ve been sitting over here imagining every terrible scenario and wondering how the hell I’m going to get Liam Neeson to go save your ass.”
Sighing, Marcee tilted her head back and closed her eyes against the light.
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m running on fumes.” No one in the movies ever talked about how exhausting grand gestures of love could be.
“Of course you are. That’s what happens when you don’t properly plan.”
She cracked a smile. “But where’s the fun in that?”
“I happen to find plenty of sleep and resources to be quite fun,” Alex said indignantly.
“Then you’ll be happy to know I have a reservation at a perfectly normal bed and breakfast. I’ve emailed you the details for Liam.”
Her cackle of amusement was interrupted by a yelp and what sounded suspiciously like a growl.
“What was that?” Marcee asked, eyes popping open.
“Freddie is not a fan of sudden noises, remember?” Alex uttered a curse word under her breath. “Damn, he got me good. That’ll need antibiotic cream, for sure.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve got a lot going on,” she drawled. “I’ll keep you posted, okay?”
“Marcee, wait!”
“I’m still here.”
“Don’t be afraid.”
She scoffed, but Alex interrupted her.
“I’m serious, Marcee. Don’t be afraid when the moment comes. You deserve to have this kind of love that makes you fly across the world and do crazy things.” Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “You deserve every beautiful thing this world has to offer. You’re worth it.”
Marcee squeezed her eyes shut so tightly it hurt.
You’re worth it. You’re worth it. You’re worth it.
“I love you, Alex.”
“I love you. Good night.”
It took her the rest of the cab ride to Hampstead to gather her composure, but by the time she checked in at the front desk and walked into her room, she was settled enough emotionally to collapse face first on the quilted bed and fall asleep.
“Here we are, miss.”
Marcee’s driver glided to a stop across the street from a charming brick building, the cheery blue door as inviting as all the others in the quaint neighborhood.
Her stomach was cramping, threatening to dispel the English breakfast she had that morning.
She couldn’t puke outside of his parents’ house.
It would be the worst possible introduction in the history of introductions, and since she needed their help in setting up the most romantic surprise London had ever seen, things needed to settle down.
Wrapped around the strap of her purse, Marcee’s hands were clammy, her grip white-knuckled. It was a wonder she hadn’t sweated off her foundation. She couldn’t believe she even put on foundation.
“Everything okay?” the driver asked, eyeing her in the rearview mirror.
She startled out of her thoughts. “God, yes, I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous. I’ll get out now.” She started sliding closer to the door and reached for the handle. Across the street, the blue door opened.
Remy.
Halfway out, he leaned back into the house and said something, then bounded down the front steps.
Marcee took in the sight of him like someone dying of thirst being presented with an ice-cold glass of water.
Every detail imprinted itself on her mind, overwhelming her with longing and hope and happiness.
He looked even fitter than he had weeks before, as if he’d spent every minute apart in the gym.
Black athletic pants, gray hoodie molded to his frame, and white sneakers stark against the gray sidewalk.
Was his hair longer? It looked a bit longer.
Oh, but that face, that beautiful face was just as she remembered—as she imagined in her dreams.
There was a car parked on the curb, a sleek Mercedes. He threw a bag in the passenger seat before going around and climbing in. As the engine rumbled to life, she leaned away, ducking behind the seat. As much as she wanted to run to him, it wasn’t time.
After he disappeared from sight, Marcee tipped the driver and got out. She swore she could still smell Remy’s aftershave as she crossed the road and climbed the steps where he’d just stood. It filled her senses, leaving her tingling and shaky with anticipation.
Please, God, let him still want me.
If he turned her away, she didn’t know how she’d get by.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she knocked twice, then clasped her hands in front of her, completely unsure of how to stand in such a situation.
The door opened.
“Can I help you?” Gloria gave her a cautious smile which turned to shock as she recognized her. “Marcee?”
“Hi, Mrs. Lockley. I hope this isn’t a bad time.” She wanted to pull her in and hug her, like she imagined the moment they met on video chat. She was even more beautiful and motherly in person. She hesitated, hoping Gloria didn’t slam the door in her face. “Is it?”
“A bad time? Well, no, but is Remy expecting you, dear?” She opened the door all the way and waved her forward. “Where are my manners? Come in off the street. I’m all flustered.”
“He’s not, so that’s my fault,” Marcee said, making her way into her foyer. “I know this is rude, showing up. I’m so sorry.” The first of many apologies she’d be giving that day, she hoped.
Gloria bustled past and Marcee followed in her yellow dress like a baby duck, soaking in her surroundings.
Pictures of Remy at various stages of his life were hung in frames on the wall.
Her eye caught on one in particular: Remy in a school uniform, coke-bottle glasses and a delightfully large grin.
It was impossible not to be charmed by him, even as a kid.
“It’s no trouble,” Gloria said from the living room. “Please, have a seat. Remy isn’t here right now. He just left for practice. I’m surprised you didn’t run into him on your way.”
“Practice?” Marcee blurted out. Blushing, she set down her purse and smoothed out her dress. Was it considered more proper to cross her legs or her ankles?
Gloria raised a perfectly penciled eyebrow.
“You didn’t know he was playing again?”
Marcee shook her head, shocked and elated for Remy. “Not for sure. With the same team?” It was all he wanted to be in the League again, playing for the roar of the crowd.
Gloria snorted. “Excuse my language, but hell no. He wouldn’t go back to those snakes if they were the only team in the world.
He’s with another team now, just as good if you ask me.
They’d been trying to poach him for years before, well, everything that happened.
” She looked her over, assessing. “He told me about your breakup. I suppose that’s also why I was surprised to see you at the door.
” Gloria was a formidable woman. Her soft exterior did nothing to disguise the steel in her eyes.
Marcee, for one, was glad she didn’t seem to want her dead. Yet.
“He wrote me a letter,” she started to say.
“He told me.”
“Then you know he bought me a plane ticket and asked me to come with him,” Marcee replied. At Gloria’s nod, she picked back up. “I didn’t read the letter until the day before yesterday. I couldn’t bear to after everything that happened. It’s why I didn’t meet him there. I didn’t know.”
Remy’s mother let out a whoosh of air and leaned back in her chair. “Well, that changes everything, doesn’t it?” For a moment, she looked out the window, eyes distant. “I thought you were a selfish chit, you know.”
Marcee nearly choked on her laughter but took a sobering breath. “I love your son, Mrs. Lockley. Deeply.” The damn lump formed in her throat again.
“I know. Only someone who loved him would make that blasted trip.” She smiled wryly and said, “Call me Gloria.”
“What time will Remy be home?” It was part of her plan that was completely up in the air. She didn’t know his schedule, or if he was working, or even staying with his parents.
Gloria peeked at her watch, frowning. “He’s at training now, and he has a game tonight, so he won’t be back home until late. His father and I usually watch on the telly.”
Damn. She couldn’t very well surprise him at midnight in his parents’ foyer. He’d be exhausted.
She only had one chance to make her grand gesture. If she missed the moment, she may never get a chance to prove how much he meant to her.
“It’ll be quite late tonight, I imagine,” Gloria mused. “It’s a derby game, so the stadium will be a full house.”
A full house. Thousands of people.
Marcee leaned forward, excitement tightening her chest. “Gloria, is there any way you could get me into the game? Maybe even on ground level?”
A slow smile spread across her face. “Oh, I see. Yes, I might be able to swing something. Grab your purse, darling. We’re going to Tottenham!”