Chapter 1
Coralie
The plane touched down at London Heathrow with a thump that woke me up. I’d slept for most of the eight-hour flight.
Now, blinking in the harsh cabin lights as passengers began to get up and grab their belongings, I felt nervous. I was finally here, and I was going to see Nolan.
But, I’d never been more than a few hundred miles from home in my life, and now I was in London. London. Even though we spoke the same language, there were many differences, like driving on the wrong side of the road and measuring things in kilos and meters instead of pounds and inches.
The process of deplaning and getting through customs took forever. By the time I got to my luggage (those navy blue suitcases that had caused so much trouble with Tyler) and made my way to the arrivals area, I was exhausted, disoriented, and desperately hoping to see Nolan’s face in the crowd.
The arrival hall was chaotic. Hundreds of people pressed against barriers, holding signs and flowers and balloons. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going while I stood frozen, scanning faces for the one I needed to see.
But Nolan wasn’t there.
My heart sank. Had he forgotten? Had something come up?
I looked around again, and I turned to find a man in a dark suit holding a sign with my name printed in neat letters: CORALIE LEROY. He was older, maybe in his late sixties, with silver hair.
“Hello? Are you here for me? I’m Coralie.” My voice came out softer than I’d intended.
“Hello, Ms. Leroy. Welcome to London. I’m Angus, Mr. Brodigan’s driver.” He had a crisp British accent. “May I take your luggage?”
“Where’s Nolan?” I had to ask. “Is he okay? Did something happen?”
“Mr. Brodigan is quite well, Miss. He’s currently at a match and asked me to extend his sincerest apologies for not being able to collect you himself. He’s instructed me to bring you to the stadium if you’d like to watch the remainder of the game.”
A match. Nolan was at a soccer game. Of course he was, that was his job. I’d known coming here that I’d have to share him with his career. But I’d thought... I’d hoped... that he’d at least be here when I landed.
The disappointment must have shown on my face because Angus’s expression softened slightly. “If you prefer, Miss, I can take you directly to Mr. Brodigan’s home. His housekeeper is there and can help you get settled. The match should be over in about an hour.”
An hour sounded like forever, but it also sounded better than sitting in a stadium full of strangers while jet-lagged and emotionally wrung out.
“Going to the apartment sounds great,” I said. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course, Miss. This way.”
I followed Angus through the airport, trying not to gawk like a tourist even though that’s exactly what I was. We emerged into gray daylight that felt wrong for the time of day. I was confused, and then I remembered I lost hours somewhere over the Atlantic.
Angus led me to a sleek black Mercedes. He opened the back door for me, and I slid in, immediately overwhelmed by the leather seats and the luxury of the interior of the car.
“Comfortable, Miss?” Angus asked as he loaded my luggage into the trunk.
“Yes, thank you.”
As we pulled away from the airport, I looked out the window, trying to absorb everything at once. The roads were indeed on the wrong side. The cars looked different, smaller and more compact than American vehicles. The buildings were old and ornate in a way that most buildings back home never were, holding centuries of history stacked in brick and stone.
“First time in London?” Angus asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“First time anywhere, really.”
“Then you’re in for a treat, Miss. London’s quite something.”
We drove through streets that grew progressively more elegant, the buildings becoming taller and more impressive. Angus pointed out landmarks: Kensington Gardens, Hyde Park, streets whose names I recognized from movies but had never imagined walking down.
Finally, we pulled up in front of a modern building, all glass and steel and unmistakable wealth. A doorman in a crisp uniform opened my door before I could reach for the handle.
“Welcome, Miss Leroy,” he said with a warm smile. “Mr. Brodigan mentioned you’d be arriving. I’m Robert. Please let me know if you need anything at all during your stay.”
“Thank you,” I managed, feeling increasingly out of my depth.
Angus helped with my luggage, leading me through a lobby that looked like something you would only see in designer magazines. We took an elevator to the top floor, and when the doors opened, we stepped directly into Nolan’s apartment.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
The penthouse was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of London, the skyline stretching endlessly in every direction. The furniture was modern and looked expensive, but there were personal touches as well: a soccer ball signed by what looked like his entire team, framed photos of his family, books scattered on a side table.
“Miss Leroy.” A woman appeared from what I assumed was the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. She was perhaps fifty, with kind eyes and the same crisp British accent as Angus. “I’m Margaret, Mr. Brodigan’s housekeeper and occasional chef. Welcome to London.”
“Thank you.” I felt like I was in a dream, or maybe a movie. None of this felt real.
“You must be exhausted from your journey. Let me show you where you can freshen up.” Margaret gestured toward a hallway. “I’ve prepared Mr. Brodigan’s bedroom for you.”
Nolan’s bedroom. Where we’d sleep together, wake up together, start building whatever this new step of our relationship would look like.
Margaret led me down the hallway, Angus following with my luggage. Nolan’s bedroom was as impressive as the rest of the penthouse: huge bed, more windows, an en-suite bathroom that was the biggest bathroom I’d ever seen.
“The bathroom has fresh towels and toiletries,” Margaret explained. “Angus will leave your luggage here. Is there anything else you need? Would you like me to prepare you something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. I think I just want to take a shower and maybe rest for a bit.”
“Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Just contact me through the intercom next to the bed.”
There was an intercom? To summon the housekeeper? Because why not?
After they left, I stood in the middle of Nolan’s bedroom, feeling small and out of place. This was his life. This place, the driver, the housekeeper, the casual wealth that permeated everything. And I was supposed to adjust into it somehow. How?
The shower helped. The water pressure was incredible, the bathroom stocked with high-end soaps and shampoos that smelled incredible. I stood under the hot water for longer than usual, trying to wash away the anxiety and jet lag and lingering fear about that text message I saw before I embarked on this trip.
Wrapped in a towel, I found my luggage neatly arranged at the foot of the bed. I pulled out comfortable clothes, my yoga pants and a soft t-shirt, as I caught sight of myself in the mirror.
I looked exhausted. My hair was wet and tangled, my face pale from travel and lack of sleep. I looked at the promise ring on my finger, and I twisted it absently, remembering Nolan giving it to me as we looked to the future.
Looking around this penthouse, this life he’d built, I felt the full weight of the distance between us. Not just miles, but experiences and expectations. An entire class difference.
I climbed into his bed, which was massive and comfortable, and closed my eyes to just rest for a few minutes. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, someone was kissing me.
Soft lips against my forehead, then my cheek, then finally my lips. The familiar scent of Nolan’s cologne mixed with sweat and grass woke me up.
“Coralie,” he whispered against my lips. “Wake up, beautiful.”
My eyes flew open, and there he was. Nolan, still in his uniform, his hair damp with sweat, his face flushed from exertion. Looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
“You’re here,” I breathed.
“I’m here. And God, I’m so sorry about not picking you up at the airport. I wanted to, but the match…”
I silenced him with a kiss, pulling him down onto the bed beside me. “You didn’t tell me you had a game today.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to change your flight date. I was afraid that if I told you I couldn’t pick you up, you might delay coming, and I couldn’t wait another day to see you.”
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his hand sliding into my still-damp hair. I melted into him, all the exhaustion from the trip and anxiety and fear going away now that he was here.
“I missed you so much,” he murmured against my neck. “Every day we weren’t together felt like forever.”
“Well, I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know,” he pulled back to look at me. “How was your flight? Did Angus find you okay? Did you have anything to eat…”
“Nolan.” I touched his face, feeling the slight stubble along his jaw. “Stop talking and kiss me.”
He grinned, that smile I’d fallen in love with, then kissed me again. This time there was no holding back.
His hands found the hem of my t-shirt, and I arched into his touch as he slowly pushed the fabric up. “If you are too tired, we can wait…”
“Don’t you dare stop,” I told him, and he laughed against my skin.
What followed was both familiar and completely new, but this felt different. More urgent, more desperate, like we were both missing each other too much to hold back.
He undressed me, kissing every inch, murmuring words of love and desire that made my heart race. Our eyes met, and I saw everything I felt reflected back at me.
Love. Need. Hope. Fear. The terrifying possibility that this might work mixed with the equally terrifying possibility that it might not.
“I love you,” he said, and then he was moving inside me, and I lost control. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper, and he groaned my name.
“God, Coralie. I’ve dreamed about this. Every night since I left Connellsville.”
“I dreamed about this moment too,” I whispered. “I missed you so much, Nolan.”
He brought me to the edge and held me there until I was begging. When I finally came apart, he was right there with me, my name on his lips, his body shuddering against mine.
And when we were done, we lay together, his head on my chest, my fingers running through his damp hair.
“Welcome to London,” he murmured sleepily.
I giggled. “Was that my welcome gift?”
“Yes, and it could be your everyday gift, if you want it.” He lifted his head to look at me, his expression turning serious. “Coralie, I want you to know it doesn’t matter to me if we’re in London or Connellsville or anywhere else in the world. As long as we’re together, that’s all I want.”
Tears pricked my eyes because I needed to hear that. Despite everything and all our differences, he believed we could make this work.
“I love you,” I said, meaning it.
“I love you too.” He kissed me softly. “Now, are you hungry? Because Margaret made us dinner, and I’m starving. Playing ninety minutes of football does that to you.”
“Did you win?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
His face lit up. “We won. Three to one. I scored two goals.”
“Oh, you did? Then that calls for more celebration.”
He pulled me up, and we dressed slowly, stealing kisses and touches, reluctant to break the bubble we’d created. But we were both starving.
We walked toward the kitchen, Nolan holding my hand.
“Unfortunately, tomorrow I have training in the morning, and there’s a sponsor event in the evening that I have to attend. But I was thinking, if you’re not too jet-lagged, maybe you could come with me? I’d love to show you off.”
Show me off? Like I was something to be proud of, not a small-town girl completely out of her depth. He wasn’t embarrassed to be seen with me?
“I think I’d like that,” I said, and meant it.
This was my life for the next two months, and I was going to embrace it, fear and all, because right now, a life without Nolan was unthinkable to me.
***
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— Cat
