It didn’t make it any easier to know that I’d made my best friend cry.

As I got ready for bed, my stomach churned with my decision. Not because I wasn’t happy to stay in England for three more months, but because Greer’s worries had begun to make a dent in my stubborn belief I’d return to Chicago.

What if she was right?

What if what I discovered about myself meant Chicago wasn’t right for me anymore?

This trip to Northumberland was my first international trip. As a kid, we’d vacationed within the States and Canada. Growing up, reading Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, I’d dreamed of England. Of visiting. Living there. As I got older, plans changed. I lost myself in the minutiae of adulthood. England became merely a wish on a vacation bucket list. It didn’t occur to adult me to live somewhere other than Chicago.

It never occurred to me there could be somewhere outside the States that would suit me so well.

My thoughts unsettled me, crashing into me like a massive wave and pulling me out to sea. I floated in that endless sea for hours, until finally, exhaustion dragged me into sleep, relieving me of my worries for just a little while.

•   •   •

Somewhere around five in the morning, I was jolted out of the peace of slumber by Tom Grennan. Confused, heart racing, I blinked into the dark of the bedroom, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from.

Then I remembered I’d changed my ringtone to “Found What I’ve Been Looking For” by Tom Grennan.

Panicked, I turned to fumble for it on my bedside table, thinking there must be some kind of emergency for someone to be calling me at this hour, when the song stopped. Grabbing my phone, I pushed up to sitting and unlocked it to see the missed call was from my mom.

I stared blearily at the screen for a moment.

Obviously, Phil had passed along my message to Mom that I was staying in England for another three months. What was she thinking? Would she think I was abandoning her? That I was done? Would this cause her to fall off the wagon? This was why I didn’t want to talk to her in the first place, because I didn’t want my concern for her dictating my choice. Not this time. At some point, I had to put myself first. Horrible flutters flapped around in my belly.

I’d only been staring at my phone a few minutes when it beeped, and an envelope appeared to let me know I had voice mail.

Oh God.

Just delete it, Evie.

But I couldn’t.

My curiosity was too great.