My heels click against the cement walkway that loops through the center of campus. The bustle of a late afternoon twines around me. Students huddle at outdoor tables outside the campus coffee shop. Conversations float in the cool Santa Ana breeze. In the distance, someone strums a guitar.
It’s a typical autumn day at Pemberly. I pull tighter on my jacket. The crisp, late afternoon air causes my loose strands to brush against my face. Southern California isn’t as cold as some places, but I’m a wimp anytime the temps drop below seventy. Thank goodness I agreed to Garrett driving me home after work. The siren song of his SUV’s butt-warmer calls to me. Even if it’s only a short ten-minute drive from campus to my place, the heated seats are an extra delicious bonus.
“Jensen!”
I stop and tilt my head toward the direction of the velvet-smooth female English accent. The only Englishwoman I know—besides feisty historical romance female main characters—is Kayla.
“Sorry, that was rude. You may not recognize my voice yet.” She clears her throat. “It’s Kayla O’Leary. We met at Harkey’s Hideaway the other night.”
“Hi, Kayla… Yeah, I remember.” I shift foot-to-foot. “How are you?”
“Excellent. You?”
“Awesome,” I say through a tight smile.
I don’t haveillfeelings toward Kayla. She was pleasant at the bar, but she was the woman Miles left me for. Even though I know we weren’t a couple, I still feel awkward around her.
“I am glad I ran into you. Miles mentioned you were supposed to be in New York this week, but that trip was interrupted by your brother being injured. I was sorry to hear that. How is he?”
A sweet, delicate aroma, like a rose garden in bloom, wafts off her. It’s probably expensive. Like everything else about Kayla. According to Catherine, Kayla is tall and lean with long, bronzy blonde hair and Arctic blue eyes. She’s always polished and glossy with the perfect shade of red lipstick that gives off “don’t fuck with me” energy. It’s unlikely she’s ever been ditched at a bar before.
“He’s on the mend. Thank you for asking.” I offer a smile.
“Wonderful. It’s terrifying when someone we love is unwell or hurt. My sister lives in London with her husband and my nieces. If something happened to her, I would be a wreck.”
“Yeah… Especially when you’re so far away from them.” I scrunch my face. “Though I wouldn’t know. I’ve never really been that far away from my family.”
I’m pathetic. The corners of my lips tick down. At twenty-nine, I’ve never lived more than a ten-minute drive from a family member. It may have been one of the reasons I chose Pemberly for undergrad. Because Anker was a student here and then attended their medical school. Whereas Kayla resides an entire ocean away from her family.
“Besides Oxford, this is the furthest I’ve been away from my family,” she says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. As much as I am enjoying my time here, it does get a little lonely to be so far away from them.” Her admission is soft.
My heart twinges with her vulnerability. I can almost picture the downward curve of her mouth. It’s hard to imagine the confident woman who commanded all the attention at the bar the other night showing this soft side.
Loneliness is something I understand. Relationships—even friendships—have been a struggle for me. I don’t have other friends. I never have, despite how much I just wanted to belong. So much of my life was spent with my nose pressed up against the window, hoping to be let in and scared about what might happen if I was.
“What do you miss?” I shift foot-to-foot. “I mean, what things from home do you miss doing the most?”
“Brunch.” Her sigh is laced with wistfulness. “My friends back home and I would go religiously. There’s a pub near my flat that serves a modern take on an English breakfast. It had all the traditional items but with a twist; champagne, pastries, eggs, beans, and vegan blood sausage.”
I guffaw. “Vegan blood sausage sounds atrocious.”
“Vegananythingis a dreadful waste of food in my opinion, but do not repeat that. Half the department leans vegan, so I may be flayed.”
“Would vegans flay a human?”
“Excellent point.” Head tipped back, she lets out a musical laugh.
“Your secret is safe with me… Although I should warn you that I do like almond milk,” I say with a cheeky expression.
“I shall endeavor to like you nonetheless.” A smile is audible in her jest. “I also wanted to apologize to you.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t know that Miles and you had something going on when I left with him the other night. I feel terrible. I would never interfere with someone’s relationship like that.”
