To my shock, I received an email along with my digital work visa that day. Only nine days after I’d spoken to Penny. Last week, I’d called Greer and told her I was staying for an extra week because Penny offered me a deal. I hadn’t seen any point alarming her about the prospect of my staying in England for longer until it was for certain.

Now it was certain.

“Greer?”

She cleared her throat, and then her words came out tight, as though she were clenching her teeth. “How is that possible?”

Quietly, as though I were afraid a loud tone would spook her, I explained Penny’s situation, her proposition, and the arrival of my work visa.

More silence followed the explanation.

“Greer?”

“I knew it,” she replied sadly. “I knew you would go there and not come back. I just felt it in my gut.”

Guilt that I was hurting her, worrying her, made me flinch. “Oh, Greer, that’s not true. It’s just these past four weeks flew, just like a vacation, and I didn’t have time to figure anything out. Now I have three months to do that, and I am certain I’ll know what my next step is going to be when I get back to Chicago.”

“Yeah but you might decide Chicago isn’t your next step.” She huffed. “And please don’t tell me your decision to stay has nothing to do with the hot farmer.”

“It doesn’t,” I snapped.

It didn’t.

Not really.

Not like that.

I’d posted an Instagram photo of Roane holding an impressive pair of melons to his chest beside a fruit stall at Alnwick Markets last week, with the caption “Some people are just blessed by nature’s bounty ;)”

Almost as soon as I’d posted that photo, I was inundated with comments from friends. Who was the mysterious hottie, and what was he to me? Mostly I ignored the comments, but I couldn’t ignore Greer’s phone call later that day.

I’d explained who Roane was and that we were just friends.

I thought she’d bought it.

Not that there was anything to buy. We were just friends. Even though he constantly flirted with me and was generally making every day harder to resist the temptation he presented.

“Oh, please.” I could practically hear the curl in Greer’s upper lip. “You went to England to get some distance from your life, met a gorgeous guy, and are allowing your vagina to dictate the next three months.”