Page 25 of We'll Meet Again

“For starters, no matter how old the kids get, you’ll always be their mum,” she began. “They’ll always need you. How often are you calling Mum’s house asking her about shit?”

“Almost daily,” Stevie admitted.

“Fuck, really?” Billie said, surprised.

“I have no idea how to be a wife or mother!” Stevie shot back. “I called her this morning to ask how to get a bit of hardened sauce off one of the burners of my stove!”

“Oh, what did she say?” Billie said. “Because Tessa made some the other night, and it’s still not -”She stopped herself and shook her head. “Not important. Text it to me later.”

“Will do,” Stevie promised.

“Look, whatever you decide, I’ll support you,” Billie said. “If it’ll make you happy to stay home, then do that. And if it doesn’t, re-evaluate. You’ve got loads of people on your side in the industry, you’ll find something else, alright?”

“That’s true,” Stevie said. “I suppose I’m not signing a contract or anything that says I must stick to that decision if it doesn’t work.”

“Exactly,” Billie said. “And you’re not a shit mum, okay? You’re the best mum I know, besides our own. And your little monsters are better off with you than some stranger.”

Stevie chuckled. “Thanks, Bills. I know you don’t get all of this, but one day, when you fall in love, I promise it’ll make sense to you.”

“Doubtful,” Billie said with a wry grin. “You see, I am determined to remain a cold-hearted bitch for the rest of my life.”

“That’s awfully strong language this early in the morning.” A Southern drawl from behind her nearly made Billie jump out of her skin. With a squeak of surprise, she whirled around to see Ethan standing there, the generous smile on his lips and the brightness in his eyes that made her stomach do somersaults. He nodded toward the bags in her arms. “Looks like you could use a hand.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is this what you do? Just walk around London offering to carry the grocery bags of unsuspecting women?” Before he could answer, she went on, accusatory. “What’s the goal there? Trying to find out where I live, are you?”

His brow furrowed. “I already know where you live, I’ve been to your place.”

“Billie?” Stevie’s voice came from the speaker of her phone. “Who’re you talking to?”

“The boy scout,” Billie said, returning the phone to her ear. “I’ll call you back later, Stevie.”

“Later, Bills.”

They hung up. Ethan offered his arms, and Billie inwardly debated accepting the offer for several moments. But the bags were heavy, and she would need to open the door since she was the one with the key. With a sigh, and rolling her eyes, she handed them over. He had the decency to not look smug about it, and he followed her inside.

“Who were you talking to?” he asked as they headed for the stairs.

“My sister,” she answered.

She offered no more information. Despite her curiosity and attraction, she had to keep her distance; she had no other choice. The last thing she wanted was a guy who helped little old ladies to be the one to tell her love was wasted on her as well.

“Billie and Stevie?” he said. “How’d your parents get those names?”

“They’re really into music,” she answered automatically. She had told this story plenty of times now. “Mum got to name the first baby, and she went with Stevie Nicks. Dad got to name the next one, and so I was called Billie Jean.”

“Like the Michael Jackson song?”

“The one and only.”

She prepared herself for one of the usual responses: a judgmental, “oh, how…unique” or “wouldn’t be my choice, but to each their own!” Some variation of those sentiments had followed her around her whole life. But Ethan didn’t even pause.

“Well, that’s pretty neat!” he said.

She came to a stop and faced him. “You actually mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

She responded with a disbelieving scoff before continuing down the hallway. “So, when did you get so familiar with your neighbor?”

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