Until Harry(15)

His hiss was audible. “Don’t talk like you’re taking a quick vacay down to Cali for the weekend, Lane! You’re in England. E–n–g–l–a–n–d.”

I couldn’t help the snort that erupted from me. “I am aware I’m in England – and how to spell it, Ro. I was born here, you know?”

“Lane!” he growled. “I’m freaking out here. I’m out of my mind with worry for you. You up and leave the country without even texting me. No email. No note. Nothing. You could have died! I wouldn’t have known a thing if your landlord hadn’t told me where you were. I was going to call the freaking cops and report you missing!”

I winced and then frowned when guilt flooded me. Roman Grace was pretty much my closest – no, make that my only friend. We met five and a half years ago in a café in downtown Manhattan when he spotted me reading a steamy romance, and we instantly clicked over our love for Mr Grey.

I had been living in New York six months at that point, and I’m embarrassed to say I had hardly experienced the city. I became closed off when I moved, and I never had enough courage to explore. I liked New York, but I wouldn’t say that when I was there I was living; I merely existed in a city that never sleeps.

I was a shade of grey on a canvas of colour.

Roman helped brighten things up for me. He gave me somewhat of a social life through his own, but even with his vibrant self, I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t sad either. I was just . . . numb. I was content with working and reading book after book in my spare time, but after I met Roman, he made sure to rectify that problem. He took me to bars, clubs and plays. He even introduced me to his book club and made me an official member. Sure, I was the only straight female when I was with Roman and his friends, but it was refreshing. He was refreshing. He brought something new to my introverted life, and I adored him for it.

“I’m so sorry, Ro. I swear that when I got a handle on shit, I was going to ring you. I only got here a few hours ago. Getting through the airport was a nightmare.”

Roman let out an exasperated breath. “I don’t care about the airport – I care about you. How are you, honey? Your landlord mentioned why you had to leave in such haste. I’m so sorry about your uncle. I know how close you were to him.”

I looked down at my feet. “I’m fine,” I whispered.

“That line may work on your family, but I know you better than that, and I call it bullshit,” Roman said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I was glad when a chuckle left my mouth. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I’m not falling apart. Not right now anyway.”

Roman was silent for a moment. “Have you seen him?”

I glanced at the closed parlour door where my uncle was with my mother and nanny as they fussed over him. I heard their low murmurs as I pressed my back against the hallway wall. I adjusted my glasses when they slipped down my nose and said, “Yeah, I saw him. He looks great. Just like he’s sleeping.”

Roman sucked in a gulp of air. “I meant Kale.”

I froze at the mention of his name and glanced at the sitting room doorway. I relaxed when nothing happened. He was still in there with my brothers. I shook my head and mentally bitch-slapped Roman for bringing him up. He dragged Kale, and our history, out of me one very drunken night two years ago. He knows everything that happened between us.

Every. Single. Thing.

“Yeah, I saw Kale,” I replied, my voice low.

Roman whistled. “How was that meeting?”

I blew out a breath. “Surprisingly civil. He is acting like nothing ever happened. He greeted me just like an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Roman questioned. “I mean, you don’t want it to be awkward while you’re there and have your past aired out again, do you?”

Do I? I shook my head. God, no, I couldn’t deal with that. It’s just a little – a lot – upsetting that he is acting like there is nothing between us. Not even awkwardness. He is completely at ease in my presence and shooting the shit like before things went to hell with us, which is weird because the last time I saw Kale . . . it was bad. There were declarations of unrequited love, tears and a lot of screaming.

“Lane?” Roman’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Are you still there?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I’m here, and no, I don’t want it to be awkward.”

Roman was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Does he look the same? Or is he fat and bald now? I’m praying for the latter.”

I unexpectedly laughed.