Page 5 of Boss Abroad

If asked, I’m sure Preston would say he sees Callie as a pain in the ass, proving her point.

They’re like roughhousing twin toddlers. Their love language is bullying.

My mom died a long time ago. I don’t have a father, and I’m an only child. So I feel pretty blessed to have found these crazy, loud, unapologetic, amazing people to call my family.

Preston takes my suitcases down in the elevator and into the trunk of his SUV. We can hear his parent-approved cursing as he comes back for his second trip and I just laugh it off. All and any judgment is water off a duck's back to me. How does one pack when you don’t know whether you’re staying for three or six months? How? Or, as much as no one else wants to admit it, maybe even more? In the dark, quiet, secret depths of my heart, sure, I hope I’m back home in no time. But as always, I run the worst possible scenarios ever and prepare for them.

And since I have no clue how to pack, I packed everything. There. Problem solved.

That fills four suitcases. The fifth and largest of the lot, just shy of exceeding the weight limit, is a gift from Callie.

My best friend’s gifts are… unique. She didn’t give me just a suitcase. She gave me a packed one. With a plastic security seal on it so I can only see what’s in there once I arrive in London.

Callie herself is one of a kind. She’s also rich. So damn rich, she spends her money like she’s Elon Musk—carelessly, and many times, stupidly. As I drag the case to the door, I try one more time, knowing damn well my chances of success are next to none. What can I say? My curiosity trumps my pride. “Are you seriously not telling me what’s inside?”

“And pass on the opportunity to watch you squirm?”

Damn her, she’s right. I'm itching to know.

She ups the theatrics. “Will security stop you from boarding?” Her eyebrows go higher. “Will they flag something on the x-ray?” Her chin drops down with a gasp. “Will you be banned from all international flights for eternity?” She pulls out her phone and points the camera at me. “Here, let’s practice a mean look for your mugshot.”

I laugh at her silliness and pull her close for a brief moment. I’m not big on hugs, but she and Pres are the exceptions.

“Awww. If I knew a suitcase of designer clothes would get me a cuddle, I would’ve bought you one ages ago.”

I push her away but hold her by the shoulders. “You. didn’t.”

“I had to run my mouth and ruin the moment, didn’t I?” With arms wide open, Callie puckers her lips and nods her head back. “Come ’ere, sugar,” she says with a rough voice, “Give me some love.” She pretends to barf in her hands. “God, I even irked myself,” she declares and I lose the fight with the smile that wants to break free.

Her eyes shine and double in size. “I made you a London starter pack.” She sounds so freaking proud of herself, which makes me equal parts excited and scared.

“But seriously, nothing illegal, right?”

“Illegal? No, of course not. I’m not that crazy.” Jury’s still out on that. “It’s just a harmless surprise.” I’m willing to trust the not-illegal bit, but I wouldn’t bet on the harmless. “I packed some crucial, basic stuff for you to brave the city and start this new phase on the right foot. In a sparkly pair of Jimmy Choos, obviously.” She holds up a tag that reads ‘London Essentials’.

I’m torn between chastising or hugging my crazy-ass friend again when Preston comes back for his final haul.

“Wrap it up, you two. Time to leave.” He looks inside the apartment for his daughter and shouts a military, “Lily, let’s go!” before wheeling and parking the last suitcase at the elevator door to hold it open for us.

A blur of black hair jumps from behind the cardboard boxes for donation and zooms past us to her father. Yeap, the chief-of-ortho-voice works on her too. He leans over to kiss the top of her head and asks her to stay there. He checks if every window is locked and all lights are off, even though I told him I’d done that already. I pull the boxes that Lily was playing with into one big pile.

Callie figured I should just lock the apartment door with all my stuff inside and hand the keys back to the landlord. And to my complete shock and potential heart attack, Preston sided with her. That was a first.

It took me a long time to find this family, but I guess they don’t realize that it took me just as long to find somewhere I could call home. I’ve done enough moving around, so no, I am not ready to give this place up, especially when, with just a month’s salary—the new one, of course—I can afford to keep my apartment locked, waiting for me when I get back.

The move gave me the excuse for a good spring clean and I have a bunch of boxes with stuff going to charity. I got my cleaning lady coming in every two weeks to make sure dust doesn't build up and Callie will adopt my plants. Although I’ve had to forfeit my right to complain if—or when, her words, not mine—they eventually die of either thirst or drowning.

“April, are you coming?” Pres calls as I stand alone in the middle of my living room. I join him at the door and his familiar, comforting hand squeezes my shoulder before he leaves to give me some privacy.

I stare at my apartment, stripped bare of what made it mine; the noise, the mess, the people. My fingers tighten into a white-knuckled grip on the door handle to steady my trembling hand.

I turn the last light off and my mind pops the same question for the millionth time: “Are you really doing this, April?” The empty apartment ahead of me provides the answer my throat is too tight to profess right now.

Closing my eyes, I inhale the grounding and familiar smell of home and mouth a silent thank you to everything I got to live inside these walls. I close the door with the utmost care, afraid I’ll shatter all the good memories.

I’m not ready for whatever comes next, but when has that ever stopped life before?

CHAPTER THREE

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