“And we’re done for the night!” I heard Will’s call bounce through the large confines of the kitchens, and heard a few whoops of relief that finally the dinner rush of Rive La Belle had died down. Beside me, Donna the new sous chef and Brayden the sauce-maker traded relieved high-fives. “Good work, everybody.”

            It wasn’t like working at Rive La Belle was bad—because, trust me, with the pay and company, it really wasn’t—but when you’re working a nine-hour shift late into the night hours, it does grow tiresome. And when you spend your whole time whipping up creams and baking cakes, it definitely grows painful and tedious.

            Will appeared at the front of the benches and consulted the memo, which would show whose turn it was to do the cleaning. “Payton, Rob and Brayden, you’re on cleaning duty with me tonight.”

            “Aw, seriously?” Brayden complained, stomping his foot in the manner of a wronged child. “I swear I did it last time.”

            Donna, a thirty-something single mother of two, stuck out her tongue and put down her saucepan. “Ha. Sucker.”

            I dusted off my flour-covered hands and walked up to Will, pitching my voice low so nobody else heard. “Will, I’m pretty sure it’s my turn to clean up tonight.”

            He winked. “I traded your shift for tonight with Brayden’s. Go home and spend some time with your friends, okay?” He kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, love.”

            Butterflies swarmed in my stomach at his soft tone, and I smiled and turned around. I made my way through the loud kitchen as someone changed over the country channel for their own playlist, and other chefs began the haul to the lockers to get ready to go home.

            I walked to my locker and shucked off everything, grabbing out my messenger bag and grabbing out a spare change of clothes to get changed into. I walked into the bathrooms adjacent to the lockers and then stripped off my apron to pull on a t-shirt and trench coat over the top of a black camisole, and then traded my dress pants for jeans. I only ever did this when I’d had some kind of kitchen accident—which included, but was not limited to—flour incidents, exploded desserts, cringe-worthy chocolate eruptions, and falls into sweets. Tonight, I’d done the fun flour challenge, where you accidentally drop a bag of flour onto yourself. Oops.

            Lila appeared beside me, a spritzy brunette with wild hazel eyes and a large smile. She was only about twenty, and, with her pink streaks and many piercings, you could already tell she was a bundle of energetic joy.

            “Hey, Candi!” she greeted, pulling off her apron and pulling a black sweater over the top of her black tee.

            “Hey, Lil,” I said, putting my flour-soaked garments back into the sports bag. “Rough night tonight, huh?”

            She grinned and put her nose stud back in, before flipping her overgrown fuchsia bangs back. “Definitely. I mean, it’s fantastic for the business, but not so great for us cooks.”

            I smiled and nodded my assent, before opening the door to the bathroom. “I gotta go. Night, Lil.”

            She smiled at me, and I started for the door. Outside, snowflakes gently fell from the sky and landed on the glistening pavement, and I jumped over cracks and puddles as I walked, feeling myself shiver and my teeth begin to chatter at the cold. I hugged myself tighter and shoved my pink fingers into my pockets, feeling my nose and cheeks blaze bright red. My breaths came out in puffy clouds as I walked.

            I’d always found England beautiful, in a strange way. With its glittering lights, cold snowflakes and puddles of mush, it had an odd combination of beauty and sleet. But there was something about it that I’d always found pretty, even if, most of the time, it was cold and unforgiving.

            I turned left and veered through the breezing doors and into the apartment building, which read on the top in brass letters, Winchester Apartments. I could still hear the mocking words printed on the brochure, when they tried to sell you an apartment. Do it the Winchester way!

            But the Winchester way seemed to involve debauchery and elegant suits, and it was a world I’d never partake in. It was strange to think someone as handsome and kindhearted as Will could be the offspring of Genevieve and William Winchester, Senior. Where Genevieve was cold and posh, Will had this warm gentlemanly way to him. And where William was precocious and somewhat irritating with his smarmy remarks and joking manner, Will was always warm and welcoming. It seemed the only thing he shared with his father was a name.

            I sighed and started up the stairwell, my thoughts caught up on his parents. Even the first time I’d met them hadn’t gone off well, but they’d treated me much better than they had upon the announcement of our engagement. Genevieve Winchester had treated me as if I were some kind of summer fling for her somewhat reckless son, but she had definitely flipped a lid when he’d walked in with me on his arm, as I’d sported a glittering engagement ring on the fourth finger of my left hand. She’d looked ready to have a coronary.

            I’d never expected Will to choose me over his parents and the rich life, but he had. Even with the threat of disinheritance, he had chosen me over the money. That’s how I knew it was real. Because he wanted me over the chance of a lavish lifestyle. And that’s why I’d never looked back.

            I slotted the key into the hole and twisted, before leaning on the door and pressing in until it swung open under my touch. Inside I could hear the strains of some song, but other than that it was silent. I shut it behind me, and jumped when I saw Chance sitting at the counter flicking absently through his phone.

            He looked up at me through his long lashes, and slowly locked his phone and slid it into his pocket.

            “Where are Ava and Jamie?” I asked, realizing this was the first sentence I’d said to him since the airport terminal more than a year ago.

            “They went out,” he told me, his voice sounding deeper than I remembered. “They went to grab some pizza for dinner.”

            “Oh,” I replied, looking around at the dimly-lit apartment. There was a time when I felt I could talk to Chance about anything; and now I could hardly string a sentence together.

            I put the gym bag down and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as I tried to sort my thoughts. I supposed I could just go in, shower, and hope they’d come back with the delicious delicacies before we had a chance to talk, but something about that seemed pathetic. Chance had pooled in his money to come to England, and I wouldn’t spend the next three months stepping on eggshells and avoiding him. It wasn’t fair.

            “You want something to drink?” I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I have soda and beer.”

            “I’m fine, thanks,” he said politely, and I sighed and closed the cabinet with a bit more force than necessary.

            I turned around and leaned against the counter, facing Chance squarely as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why are you here, Chance?”

            He looked up from where he’d been staring at the bench, with raised eyebrows. “Huh?”

            I gestured around to the apartment. “After what happened at the airport, you’re the last person I expected to show up at my doorstep. So what gives?”

            He looked down, and his jaw clenched. “Maybe I just wanted to see the sights you traded me in for.”

            “That’s not fair,” I told him. “That’s not fair, and you know it. This was my future on the line.”

            He rubbed his forehead, as if a migraine throbbed there, but nodded his assent. “I know. I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

            “So why are you here?” I repeated, needing a straight answer from him. I just needed to know why he’d decided to pay that money to come here.

            He looked down. “Because…” He closed his mouth and swallowed, as if forcing the words out. “Because I had to see you.”

            “See me? Why?” I continued with my onslaught of questions. I guessed, above all else, I wanted to know why he’d come back into my life when I’d finally healed.

            “Because you left, and I needed to make sure you were okay,” he told me. “I guess I had to see you were happy.”

            “You could’ve picked up the phone,” I replied. “You know I would’ve answered. You didn’t have to board a plane to England.”

            “You would’ve lied to me over the phone,” Chance reminded me. “And don’t pretend you wouldn’t. I guess I came here because I knew it was the only way I’d get an honest answer from you about how happy you really are. But now I see, with Will and the apartment and your job, that you really are happy. Guess I had no reason to worry, huh?”

            “I’m still glad you came,” I told him meekly, shocked by his honest answer on his intentions. Something about his answer seemed off, but I was willing to accept it. “And I’m thankful you still care.”

            “Of course I still care,” he replied, standing up. “My feelings didn’t die for you the second you stepped onto that plane.”

            I looked down, knowing I had to make it right. “I’m sorry. But I had to think of my future.”

            He raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

            “Did I what?” I asked, confused.

            “Think about your future? Or did you move to England to get away from me?”

            “You know that’s not it,” I told him, unwilling to admit that that may have been the slightest reason. “I just want us to be friends.”

            “After everything we’ve been through together, and you think the friends card is on the table?” He cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t seem necessarily mad, so I was taking that as a good sign.

            “We can try, right?” I asked, sliding into the breakfast stool across from him, but keeping a wary distance so as not to anger him. “I mean, you came all this way to England. Might as well try our best to overcome our differences and be friends, right?”

            He shook his head, but a small smile upturned his pink lips. “Yeah, I guess we can try.”

            It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t a make-up session by any means, but it would have to do for us.

            Just then I heard a key slide into the lock, and turned my head just in time to see Ava and Jamie stepping through the door, carrying three steaming cardboard boxes with the local pizzeria’s logo stamped on the front of it.

            Ava’s green eyes lit up when she saw me. “Candi! You’re home. We bought pizza for dinner.”

            “I can see that,” I told her, standing up and walking towards one of the cupboards to retrieve four plates. “I didn’t realize we were also having a small country over for dinner, too, though.”

            Ava grinned impishly and looked at the stacked pizza boxes. “Well, they were having a three-for-two deal at the pizza place, and you can never have too much pepperoni, right?”

            I grinned. “Right.”

            “I also picked this up from the convenience store,” Jamie chimed in, holding up a cheap deck of cards. “Figured we could entertain our time with poker.”

            I cringed, knowing my poker face was not very good. Jamie cocked an eyebrow at my wary expression, and smirked. “What? Don’t tell me now that you’re an English socialite you’re too good for poker?”

            I grinned. “English socialite or not, I can still kick your ass at Texas hold‘em.”

            “Is that a bet?” Jamie asked, pulling the fifty-two cards out and deftly shuffling them without so much as glancing down.

            I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down unflinchingly. “Depends, James. What are we betting on?”

            “Bragging rights for the rest of the summer,” Jamie said after a moment’s pause, considering none of us had the money to bet with.

            “Fine,” I told him. “I’ll go get washed up for dinner, and then be prepared to get the butt-kicking of a lifetime.”

            Everyone started plating up, and I quickly started for the bathroom to wash up some of the crusted chocolate sauce still on my arms. Ava stopped me as I passed, leaning in to whisper into my ear, “You guys okay?” She pulled back and nodded towards Chance, who was in conversation with Jamie as they argued playfully over who deserved the bigger slice of extra cheesy pizza.

            I’d thought that after the fight that had almost severed their friendship completely over a year ago, that maybe their relationship had ended for good. But it was good to see that after I’d embarked on my journey to London, Chance and Jamie had somehow made up, and were back to being the best buddies I knew they’d always be.

            I let out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

            She smiled at me, seeming relieved that everything had been resolved in time. “Good. Now, go get washed up before all the pizza’s gone. I wanna see you kick Jamie’s ass, and no one can handle his horrible loser’s streak on an empty stomach.”

            I traded a conspiratorial grin with her before continuing on my way to the bathroom to clean up from the day’s disaster.

            Maybe this would be the fantastic summer Ava had envisioned, after all.

            ~          *          ~

            “Okay, now I know you’re cheating,” Jamie said, clearly outraged as he pointed at my neat royal flush.

            I took a long pull of my beer and giggled, just a little bit tipsy. But that’s what happens when you have a six-pack of beer and a box of pizza sitting around. Bad things. “You’ve had your eagle eye on me for the last hour. When could I possibly have cheated?”

Chance glanced between us, still holding his cards to his chest as he watched us with amusement. Jamie had a bad case of the bad loser’s personality, and I was known to sometimes get a little bit… gloaty. Bad combination when you mix in some alcohol and a game of cards.

“I don’t know how you did it, but I know you did it,” Jamie continued stubbornly, putting down his cards angrily.

Ava dozed off on the couch beside me with a blanket draped over her legs, and occasionally stirred when either Jamie or I got a little bit loud or competitive—which happened often. Curls of short black hair fell into her face, and she twitched beside me as she floated between reality and dreamland.

“You just can’t handle the fact you lost,” I responded, gathering all of the cards together and beginning to shuffle them.

“Nobody gets two royal flushes in a row,” Jamie told me, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “You would’ve been escorted out by security right now if you were in Las Vegas.”

“But I didn’t cheat!” I reminded him. “Maybe you just suck at playing cards.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed playfully, but I knew past the staunchy bravado, he wasn’t mad. He was clearly enjoying himself, judging by his chipper tone and bouncy mood that seemed only heightened whilst intoxicated. “Then I want a rematch.”

“This is like the tenth rematch, Jamie,” Ava reminded him groggily from beside me, curling into a ball under the red duvet. “Let it go.”

“I will not,” Jamie said, poking his tongue out at her childishly. “Not until Candice admits that she’s cheating and I’m the real card champion.”

“My mother raised me not to lie,” I sad nonchalantly, continuing to shuffle.

“How about a game of blackjack?” Jamie continued with his card assault, unwilling to relinquish his title of card champion.

I rolled my eyes and palmed the cards off to Chance, the new dealer of the game. “Fine. Just one more game. Deal me up, dealer.”

~          *          ~

That one game turned into at least fifteen more, and by the time we called it a night at just before two in the morning, the music playlist drifting from the speakers had replayed two times, and Ava was snoring softly from beside us.

I gently shook her awake as Chance gently placed the cards back into the cardboard box, and Jamie drained the last dregs from his beer bottle. “Ave, come on. We’re going to sleep.”

Ava’s eyes blinked open blearily, and a sleepy grin overtook her elfin features. “Who won?”

I smirked at her, happily basking in my winning glory. “Take a wild guess.”

She slowly stood up, and I walked over and ran the basin full of water, before putting the pizza-covered plates in and resolving to wash them in the morning. I quickly wiped down the bench and stacked the empty beer bottles, before returning everything into a mildly clean state. Now that I didn’t have a clean freak like Ava for a roommate, I’d had to step up and do the cleaning duties, but I didn’t mind too much. It was a mindless job that made me feel more resolved.

Once I’d finished retaining the apartment to its clean state, I started off to my room, and as I passed the direction of the bathroom and the spare room Jamie and Chance were frequenting, I heard Chance mutter to Jamie, “I don’t know why you bother to play, man. You know she kicks your ass every time.”

I smiled and entered the room, where Ava was throwing on a camisole and a pair of yoga pants. I walked to my chest of drawers and slipped into an oversized t-shirt that belonged to Will, and Ava turned around with a grin, appraising my sleeping getup. “Look at you, all couple-y in your boyfriend’s shirt. Or, I guess in this case, fiancé’s.”

I shrugged and tugged down the hem of the football jersey. “Men don’t appreciate how comfortable their shirts are.”

“Who knew you’d be domestic blitzing with your shiny apartments and framed pictures of you and him.” She turned and pointed to a picture of Will and I that his best friend, Shae, had taken of us for a special photo-shoot. He was kissing my cheek, and my face was scrunched up as I grinned. It was one of my favorite pictures, hence why I’d gotten it enlarged and framed to hang in the bedroom. I’d never been a picture-keeping gal, but this one and the ones on the TV unit were for keeps.

“I know,” I replied, slipping under the white cotton sheets. “But now I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Are you happy?” Ava asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing one leg over the other, arching a curious eyebrow.

I smiled and stared at the picture of us. Will’s shaggy brown hair fell in adorable disarray around his face, and there was no doubting that the grin plastered on mine was real. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I really am.”