Love Interest(98)

To my knowledge, there is exactly one remedy for this sense of outsideness: time. None of us were born feeling at home—on the contrary, we were born being ripped out of the only home we’d ever known—but we’ve all got one. Maybe, in this place, you haven’t felt that way yet. It’ll probably take a while because home isn’t something you find. It’s something you build. But eventually, it happened for me, and I’m hopeful it’ll happen for you: the completely ordinary, totally mundane, absolutely sparkling day that comes when you first think to yourself, This place feels like home.





* * *



I’m in the lobby on my way out of the building, the photocopies of Charlotte’s articles clutched tight to my chest, when I hear the most unexpected thing in the world.

My name.

“Casey?” The voice is feminine, vaguely familiar, and definitely aimed right at me. I do a one-eighty, quickly wiping a thumb under each eye.

It takes me a minute to place her. The image comes slow: girlfriend of one of Alex’s college friends. Grew up in Alabama, graduated from Dartmouth. She looks the same—puffed hair, flawless black skin, tall and delicate boned—but she’s subbed out her Christmas getup for a dark mauve jumpsuit.

“Hey,” I say, somewhat shocked.

She smiles. “Hey.” I realize right then that I don’t know her name. “Jada.” She points at herself.

“Right,” I lie. “I knew that.”

She smirks. “It’s fine. There were a lot of us that night.”

“What are you doing in London?”

She steps closer, her heels clapping against marble tile. “I work in home technology sales. We’ve got a satellite branch here.”

I gesture around. “Same, kind of. I got transferred here for a new job.”

Jada arches her eyebrows. “Full-time? That’s brave.”

“Yeah.” I shuffle Charlotte’s articles. “I guess.”

Jada crosses her arms, dissecting me. “Makes sense you’re with Alex. I don’t know him well, but Josh describes him as the type whose feet don’t always touch the ground.”

I’m not sure what to say to that except for “We broke up.”

Her face draws up in confusion. Or maybe pity. “Oh. He’s not in London for you?”

“He’s.” It takes me several, painful seconds to grasp what she said. “What?”

“He’s here.” Jada points at the ground, like Alex is going to emerge from beneath the floor. Two women carrying briefcases walk between us, and a gust of sterile lobby air hits my nose. “In London. I don’t know how, but he managed to get a seat on our company’s corporate jet, and we just landed, like, two and a half hours ago.”

My ears hear her words, and my eyes see her lips move, but I’m still not comprehending.

I’ve spent the last thirty minutes letting Alex’s mother console me from beyond the grave. The cottage fairy archivist literally asked me if she needed to call an ambulance because I was crying so hard. And now Jada is telling me I might have to face him?

I can think of only one worse possibility. What if he’s here for some other purpose and has no intention to see me at all?

Jada’s mouth presses into a thin line. If she spent a whole plane ride with Alex and still isn’t sure of the intent behind his visit, she’s not going to give me false hope.

She fishes her cell phone out of her bag, offers it to me. “Put your number in. Josh and I are here for work once every couple of months. Even when we’re not, there are tons of people I can set you up with. Not romantically!” she clarifies, voice jumping. “I mean, maybe, I guess. But I imagine you could use a friend or two. I can help with that, at least.”

I grab her phone and put my number in. “Thank you.”

She nods, taking it back. “We’re going for drinks and small plates tonight at this meze place in Shoreditch. You interested?”

This—right here—is the point with most of my awkward acquaintances where I’d normally say no. A polite but firm “Thanks so much for offering, but I’m exhausted and should probably rest up. I wouldn’t want to bring the group down!” Part of me wants to play out the old song and dance out of fear, and anxiety, and my introverted belief that I don’t need anyone new. But this time, I have to say yes. I have to give myself a fighting chance at friendship here, push myself into scary waters. I came this far. It’s what Charlotte would want me to do.

Home is something you build.

“I’d like that,” I say. “Text me the details.”

Outside, I push past the text reading jada <3 go auburn!! to pull up Find My Friends. Hands shaking, I wait for the app to load.

Alex’s contact says Location Unavailable.

Which means he either (a) doesn’t want me to know he’s here or, (b) doesn’t have an international phone plan. Optimistically I’m hoping for the latter, but realistically it’s the former. Alex Harrison was raised on international phone plans.

Still, there is a nettlesome thump in my heart all the way back to my hotel. I have no reason to believe Alex will be there. I also have no reason to believe that my heart has been yanked out and stuffed with magnets instead. But in the lobby, I admit to myself I’m looking for his unruly mop of black hair about a fraction of a second before I see it.