“Same here, darling,” Sue adds, placing her own hand on Maddie’s shoulder as a cue, and then the two walk off. The sound of Sue’s heels starts to fade as she opens the door. But the chime sounds just the same as when we first walked in here.

“Later, loves.” I force a smile on my face as they leave me here alone.

But my expression doesn’t reflect anything I truly feel.

And nothing’s changed.

Evan

Berkeley Square in London feels the same as it has for years. The crisp air and old trees that tower over the park always feel timeless when I’m here. The black iron and white stone that speak to the history of this place never fail to impress. The dark, narrow alleys and the nightlife tucked away in the shadows of this city are what make my blood heat and my foot tap anxiously on the floorboard of the car.

It’s always given me a rush to come here. There are a number of cities I’m fond of, cities that are playgrounds for the wealthy and where the best parties are had. Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York City, of course. But London is one of the best. There’s something to be said about being away from your normal life and getting to unwind in a city you don’t have any obligations to stay in, yet welcomes you as if it’s always been home.

The cabby clears his throat and his accent greets me as he tries to make small talk. I give him a curt nod and as many one-word answers as it takes to make it clear he doesn’t need to fill the time with needless conversation. I’m not interested.

Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I lean back in the leather seat, feeling more and more exhausted as we pass the park, the dark green landscape fading from sight and rows of homes taking the place of the public areas.

I’ve felt comfortable here for years. It’s a constant go-to for the PR company and I’ve been sent here to look after clients multiple times. But as the sky turns gray and the rain starts to beat against the tin roof, the welcoming feeling leaves me, and I’m left empty. Brought back to the present and brooding on how much the past has fucked me over.

The cab takes a left onto Hay Hill and I pass an old townhome where I used to crash. I’ve had so many close calls here. I was too much of a hothead, always looking for a thrill and pushing my luck further and further.