A Broken Us (London Lover Series Book 1) by Amy Daws

Author:Amy Daws [Daws, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stars Hollow Publishing
Published: 2014-09-22T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It takes a couple of days for me to muster up the courage to call Brody. I have a ton of work to get done for Val and I need the freelance money. I’ve been in London three weeks now and only have a week of paid vacation time left, so I’m taking all the work I can get to bank a little safety net for when the paychecks stop. I hesitate to look for another job because I haven’t even begun to apply for an official work visa. Val has a ton of work for me though, and the freelance money is actually better than what I made as a salary worker under her.

I tell myself I’ll deal with Brody when I finish my list of projects. Liam continues to text me several times a day. Nothing too serious, mostly it’s just funny stuff he sees around town. He likes to insert his face into random things he comes across. Like today, he sent me a picture of himself looking confused; behind him was a man with an incredibly long mullet. It makes me smile and I appreciate his friendship. He keeps hinting at seeing me again but I tell him I’m busy with work, which is mostly true.

As I close my laptop, I decide to stop putting it off and call Brody already. I need to get this off my chest. I’ll feel better afterward. I hope. I look out my rounded windows and see a slew of skateboarders all over the skate ramps. There must be some kind of event there today because this is a way bigger crowd than normal.

My fingers are trembling as I press Send on Brody’s contact number. It rings five times and I begin to feel depressed that he’s not going to pick up.

“Hello?” his deep voice answers.

“Hey, um, hi, uh, Brody,” I bite my lip to stop myself from continuing on the same inane path. I take a deep breath and say, “How are you?” Real smooth, Finley.

“Um, I’m fine. How are you?” he asks, with an edge of caution in his voice.

“I’m doing well, I was just calling to see how things were going and everything.”

“Are we doing that now?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I thought we could but I guess that’s up to you,” I reply.

“So what, you think you can just call now and we’ll chat like old friends?”

I sigh into the phone, “Alright, fine Brody. Don’t let me beat around the bush or anything.”

“Well what do you expect, Finley?”

Oh! Just the way he says my name brings back hundreds of wonderful memories. Happy memories, intimate memories, carefree memories, emotional memories. How can I ask him to just say my name again over and over and over so I can bathe in the beauty of his voice and memories of simpler times?

I clear my throat, “I didn’t like where we ended things last time we spoke. I feel…remorseful. I regret how I handled things.”

“You think?” he barks, slightly.

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