But the truth is, I would have had a flight booked back to Seattle.
Now, I don’t.
August promised to pick me up from Heathrow, but when I scan the waiting zone, he’s nowhere to be found. It’s eight a.m., and I desperately need a shower and a nap, but I haven’t even asked where we’ll go from here. I was too nervous, too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that have been tormenting me since I left Seattle.
The journey was absolute torture. First, everything was delayed. Then, the ten-hour flight was a relentless parade of discomfort made worse by my own thoughts.
I spent at least half the time trying to keep myself from pulling my hair.
And it only worked so well.
I’m still wearing Grey’s sweats and hoodie, and even after the long journey, his scent lingers, reminding me of what I’ve left behind.
What they made me leave behind.
I couldn’t bring myself to change at the airport, needing that small comfort to make it this far. It’s absurd, really, how a simple piece of clothing can anchor you to a person, moment, or feeling.
The feeling of not being so alone.
While I continue to search for August and think about turning my phone back on, my mother’s driver approaches me instead. His familiar smile is a beacon in this sea of strangers, and for a moment, I feel a tiny spark of relief.
The staff always felt more like family than my family ever did.
“Miss Stanley,” he greets me with a nod. “I hope you had a good journey.”
“Wilfred. It’s so nice to see you,” I smile as he takes my bag from my shoulder to put it over his own. “Thank you. As good as it could be. August said he was going to pick me up. Is everything all right?”
“Of course, he’s waiting at the mansion for you. Mrs. Stanley was adamant about me picking you up.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine at his words. “He’s at the mansion?”
“He didn’t inform you? He’s back residing full-time,” Wilfred replies carefully.
“Since when? What about Abigail and the girls?” I press, feeling a knot forming in my stomach as he puts my bag in the back of the car and opens the backdoor for me.
“It would be best for you to ask that of young Mr. Stanley yourself,” Wilfred says diplomatically.
“Of course,” I say, sliding into my seat.
I’m so going to give him hell for this.
I look out of the window as we drive to the estate, watching the raindrops slide down on the outside of the pane. It feels as if no time has passed since Wilfred brought me to the airport two years ago.
Did those two years even happen?
Or was it all just a beautiful, painful dream?
“We’ve missed you, Miss Stanley,” Wilfred says, his warm tone breaking through my reverie as he glances back at me through the rearview mirror.
“I told you so many times to call me Amelia,” I remind him with a smile.
He chuckles. “We missed you,MissAmelia. All the staff has. But I must warn you, the mood in the mansion is… well, it’s even worse than before you left.”
I nod, steeling myself for what’s to come.
Nothing can be as bad as what I’ve left behind in Seattle.
At least my parents were and are always forward and open with what they think of me. I know exactly where I stand with them.
