Page 69 of Pervade London
I turned and walked away, feeling his stare follow me as I kept going.
I rounded the corner out of his sight and then leaned against the wall, exhaling the breath I’d been holding since leaving him behind.
They couldn’t steal my memories—those precious moments I held onto with all my heart. Our love was sacred.
The time I’d spent with Xander had helped me evolve into the person I was today. There was no avoiding that or pushing that truth aside. The life we’d built together meant everything. And he needed me.
No one was going to break us apart without facing the consequences.
I may have told James I’d accepted my fate but that had been a boldfaced lie. The hell I was letting him win—and no way was I giving him the power to ruin us. My love for Xander was all I had left. Each snapshot of the time between us was absorbed into my consciousness and held up as a shield of truth.
I’d make this right.
This wasn’t me doing anything suspicious.
This was just me remembering the photo in Xander’s office of his mum standing in front of a village post office. This was just me taking a train from Marylebone Station all the way to Great Missenden.
He’d told me he grew up in an old vicarage. As far as I knew, most towns like this only tended to have one of those. It should be relatively easy to find.
Great Missenden was as English as it got with its sprawling fields, blackberry bushes, and family owned stores dating back a century or more. Even the token red phone box outside the old-fashioned post office was a quaint touch. I recognized it from the photo and a jolt of excitement hit me. Maybe, just maybe, I’d find my way back to him.
If Xander’s mum still lived here she may even have heard from him.
Coming here was the ultimate act in defying James.
What did he expect? I would pretend my boyfriend never existed? That a man disappearing under suspicious circumstances would simply be ignored? He had underestimated me.James had thought I’d be intimidated by the visit to Number 10 Downing Street. He’d meant to scare me off.
Yeah, not going happen.
I knocked on the front door of the vicarage, finding comfort in knowing Xander had once lived here. He’d told me this was his childhood home—he wouldn’t cut his mum out of his life, surely?
I glanced back at the quiet lane behind me with a heavy dose of paranoia. I’d made my way out of the city, jumping from train to train to throw off anyone who might be following. I’d worn jeans and a hoodie and had kept my head covered for the entire journey. Still, that lingering sense that Ballad would know I was here made me doubt the wisdom of my actions. Maybe I should go home.
You’ve come too far.
There was no response from my knock. I made my way around the back of the property and stepped into a bright garden with rows of colorful flowers. At the end, a line of lush trees with swooping leaves. It was nice to take a few seconds to imagine Xander playing over there as a boy. Then I saw it, the tree-house resting in the enormous trunk. The one he’d told me he liked to hide in to avoid the strange noises of this old house.He’d also told me he’d spent precious mid-summer days playing out here when he’d been home from boarding school.
He’d not shared much more, though, other than his parents were away a lot of the time living in far-off places while his dad served as a senior diplomat abroad. Places they were reluctant to take Xander. Later, he’d attended the University of St. Andrews in Scotland, rounding out his education in computer science that enhanced his natural flair for tech. He was so smart I imagined he wowed his professors.
This place was a connection.
I miss him.
I should be here with him.
There’d been so many memories left to make.
I suddenly spotted an older woman in a sunhat kneeling over a patch of dirt. She dug a shallow hole with the trowel and threw in a seed, scraping the ground to cover it.
“Mrs. Rothschild?” I called over.
It was her—the woman from the photo. She was a little older, but it was definitely Xander’s mum. She peered at me from beneath her floppy hat. She had Xander’s golden sun-kissed complexion and his high cheekbones and bright eyes. Even the elegant way she rose to her feet and walked toward me reminded me of him.
“Sorry to bother you.” I stepped forward.
There were stains on her jeans from where she’d been kneeling. This irreverence revealed her earthiness. It reminded me of the way Xander would become engrossed in his work, too. Very often I’d see his hair sticking up from pulling an all-nighter in his office, in the morning appearing as cute at hell in his creased PJs. He’d stand in the kitchen munching on a slice of buttered toast and sipping tea, his good morning smile so endearing, making me feel so at home.
God, I missed him.
