Girl Abroad

MY FATHER STUMBLES INTO THE LIVING ROOM AND SKIDS TO A stop a second later. When our gazes meet, I’m genuinely concerned about his appearance. He’s beyond frazzled, eyes rimmed red from exhaustion, hair messy and unruly as he rakes a hand through it. He’s wearing wrinkled jeans and an old band sweatshirt. Not a Gunner Bly one. Aerosmith. It’s faded and worn, one of his favorites.

The air is thick with tension, pouring off him in palpable waves. Dad’s suspicious gaze travels around the room.

It briefly rests on me.

Then Lee. Jack. Jamie.

Then returns to me.

“Oh, hello,” Lee says, gawking at the middle-aged rocker standing in our living room.

Dad ignores him. “Who the fuck are these people, Abbey?” he demands.

I swallow the lump of fear in my throat. “Um. They’re my roommates.”

Silence crashes over us.

Endless hear-a-pin-drop silence.

Chest rising as he slowly inhales, Dad stares at me for an eternity and a half. Then he speaks in a low, deadly voice.

“I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”

The guys remain frozen in place.

He barks, “Get lost!” and they scatter like rats fleeing a sinking ship. I don’t think Lee even puts on his shoes. The front door slams behind them.

“Dad— ” I start.

“Sit,” he orders, pointing at the dining table.

I scramble for a chair and try again. “Dad— ”

“No. Don’t say a word, kid. Not a word.”

We sit at opposite ends of the table, my hands so clammy I have to wipe them on the front of my pants. The silence drags on again. It’s unbearable. But it also gives me plenty of time to consider how we got here. All the opportunities I had to tell him the truth about my living situation but choked on my words, because the lie was easier to live with than the consequences.

I did this to myself.

“You saw the photos in the tabloids,” I finally say. This time, he doesn’t cut me off.

“Yes.” His jaw is tight.

“But how are you here now? They were literally only published an hour ago.”

“Some asshole from the Daily Star emailed my publicist at five o’clock this morning asking for a comment to go with the story.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Man, they work fast. The vultures were hungry.”

“Eleanor knows to contact me at any hour if it pertains to my kid,” Dad says flatly. “She texted me the photos they sent her. I took one look and booked a flight out.”

He looks haggard. Half a day of traveling does a number on anyone, but I suspect the tired wrinkles around his eyes and limp posture are evidence of the shock it gave him to see his daughter plastered in the pages of a magazine, photographed with random men, including a notorious British lord.

This was a difficult transition for him, my year abroad. And now that he’s discovered I’ve been lying to him, it justifies all his fears.

I knew better. I anticipated this very moment but convinced myself I could prevent the inevitable. Or at least delay it long enough to enjoy myself in the meantime.

Unfortunately, I never did come up with a plan for when it all blew up in my face.

“Okay,” I start. “That headline is bad, but I promise you, it’s not as bad as it looks— ”

“Yeah, let’s circle back on that one,” Dad interrupts. He pushes hair off his forehead and searches my face. “First and foremost— who are those boys, these roommates?”

“They’re exactly who they said they were in their emails. Lee, Jack, and Jamie.” I bite my lip. “Only difference is they’re not girls.”

“Did you know this from the beginning?”

“No. I swear I didn’t. I truly thought I was rooming with women.

I promise.”

He exhales, dropping his elbows to his knees. “You lied to me, Abbey. And not just once. This was a pretty elaborate scheme. I wouldn’t have thought you could be so conniving.”

Hearing him say that hurts more than I expected. It’s like a dull knife stabbing at my chest. I hate disappointing my dad. Even worse, there’s genuine pain in his eyes. It guts me.

“I panicked.” It’s the truth. The best one I have. “I got here in the middle of the night, and Lee opened the door, only Lee’s a guy, and oh, Jackie and Jamie are guys too, and now what the hell am I going to do?”

“Call me. You tell me and we figure it out. I could have gotten you an apartment somewhere.”

“I slept on it. I was convinced that in the morning, I would call you. Go to a hotel or whatever. But honestly, I figured you’d freak out and put me back on a plane.”

“Give me a little credit,” he says, wounded.

“Then I woke up and met them all downstairs for breakfast. We hit it off right away. I swear, it was like we’d known each other for years. It felt like home, and by the time we were done eating, I didn’t want to leave.”

“You could have trusted me enough to listen.”

I can see how much it hurts him that I thought so little of his willingness to hear me out. That I expected him to be so harsh without a chance to plead my case. And I realize how unfair it was to decide what he’d say before he had a chance.

“Then once I decided not to tell you, it got complicated. I kept having to tell bigger lies to cover for the first one.” It’s hard to speak past the lump of guilt jammed in my throat.

“I think that’s the part I’m having the most trouble with.” There’s anger in his tone, though he doesn’t raise his voice. Looking back on those lies, I’m ashamed I found them so easy to live with. “It wasn’t just one mistake. You tricked me over and over again. Who was the girl from the dress studio?”

“Celeste.” I hang my hand shamefully. “Lee’s twin sister.”

“Fuck’s sake, Abbey.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Like so, so sorry. I know what I did was horrid, and I do regret it. I’ve been regretting it for months. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to admit to everything I’d done. I was afraid.”

“Was it worth it?”

That’s a loaded question. And it pains me that a big part of me still thinks it was. I know now that I might have convinced him to let me stay. Even keep living in the house. Or maybe the last several months have softened him and I was right all along. Maybe he would’ve snatched me home in an instant. Either way, while I’m sorry for lying to him, I don’t regret my time here.

“I shouldn’t have lied. But separate from that, I do love it here. The neighborhood. My school. This house. And I know I can’t exactly claim independence and keep asking you to sign tuition and rent checks, but I’d really like to finish out the year if you’ll let me. I love my school, Dad. The Talbot Library is the greatest place on earth.” Tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I’m not here to drag you home, Abbs.”

I blink through the burn of tears. “No?”

“No. I came so I could look you in the eye while you explained that headline, those pictures. But I get it now.” His voice is heavy with remorse. “I lived a full life before I even turned twenty-five, one with packed tour buses and endless party favors. I didn’t want that lifestyle to ever get you in its clutches. And meanwhile, you’re over here begging me to keep going to school because you love the library.” He starts to laugh, deep and raspy. “Not sure why I was so worried.”

“I mean, that headline in the Star wasn’t exactly something to not worry about.”

“Yes. And I think we’ve circled back. Care to explain?”

“I told you about Lord Tulley, remember? He lent me those papers for my research project about his family.” Bitterness coats my throat. “And then he sort of used them as a ruse to get me over to his penthouse.”

Dad’s eyes flash.

“No, nothing like that. He was having a party. Seems like Ben just wants everyone to get coked up and drunk with him. Makes him feel better about being a degenerate, I guess.” I hurry on. “I didn’t, by the way. Do drugs. I had one glass of wine before I realized I didn’t want to be there. I called my roommates, and they came and got me.”

I think back to last night, how the guys dropped everything to bail me out. They’d thought nothing of bursting into Ben’s building, forcing their way past the doorman, and kicking down Ben’s door because I needed help. Nobody can say they don’t care.

When it counted, they were all there for me.

“The paps caught us when Ben was coming out to try to convince me to return to the party.”

“So your roommates got you?”

“Yeah. They’re good people, Dad. They’ve been good to me.” I shrug. “We’re a family.”

“I see.” He nods slowly. “So. What now?”

“Now…well, I promise to never lie to you again.” I rethink that. “Okay, no. I can’t promise not to tell a fib or two. But I’ll never lie to you about something of this magnitude again.”

His lips twitch. “I’ll take it.”

I smile. “Shake on it?”

We reach across the table to shake, and the moment his strong hand encloses mine, it feels like a load has been lifted off my chest.

“Come on,” he says, tugging me to my feet. “How about we go out to eat? I’m starved.”

“Might be kind of late to get a table anywhere,” I point out. “But there are some takeout places that are open late. Or there’s the pub if you’re up for it. But first let me rescue the guys. I’m pretty sure they’re hunkered down on the stoop without their coats and shoes.”

I’m not wrong. I hear their muffled voices when I approach the front door. I fling it open to find them shivering under the porch light, rubbing their hands together in the cold like a trio of street urchins in a Dickens novel.

“You can come in now,” I say, unable to smother my smile.

“We would’ve gone somewhere, but neither of us had shoes,” Lee says repentantly, gesturing to his socks and Jamie’s bare feet. “And Jackie boy forgot to put on a shirt again.”

Jack glances at me. “Everything okay?”

I nod. “Good. We worked it all out.”

We trudge back inside, where Dad greets the guys with narrowed eyes. Then he sighs and sticks out his hand. “I’m Gunner,” he says.

Lee stares at him. “Oh, we know.”

Jamie’s the first to shake his hand, followed by Jack, then Lee. After the introductions, Dad purses his lips for a moment before extending an olive branch.

“I thought I might treat us all to dinner.”

“I’m game,” Jamie says instantly. He’s always hungry.

Lee checks his watch. “I think Molly’s is still serving food.”

“Or I can get us a table at Soho House,” Dad suggests.

“Right.” An excited Lee snatches his coat off the hook on the wall. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Jamie says. “I need to change my shirt.” He smacks Jack’s arm. “You need to put one on. Something clean, please. Don’t embarrass us.”

“What’s Soho House?” I pipe up.

Lee and Jamie both shoot me a glare like I should be ashamed for asking.

“Somewhere we can get a bite without too much attention,” Dad says. “You’ll like it, kiddo. They do a great grilled cheese.”

A dumbfounded Lee gawks at him. “It’s an A-list only members club for actors and musicians and the like,” he explains to me. “Very swank.”

I sigh. “Dad, you don’t have to make a fuss— ”

Before I can even finish, Lee smothers me with his hand over my face. “She’s delirious. Please, make a fuss.”

“Abbs,” Jamie shouts from upstairs. “Can you steam my shirt?”

“Look what you’ve done,” I tell my father. “I hope they have a midnight menu.”

Our late-night dinner is not nearly as awkward as I expect, even with Dad asking the guys a mountain of questions. I suspect he wants to feel them out, give them the business or whatever, but by the time we’re ready to head home, the four of them have become fast friends.

“Abbs, we’re off,” Lee says when I return from the ladies’ room. “Dad is tired.”

“Really? You’re on a dad-name basis with him now?”

“Let me have this, Abigail,” he hisses in my ear. “Give me a superstar for a second father, and I’ll forgive you for hiding all your romances from me.”

“Deal.”

We exchange a grin, and I loop my arms around Lee in a tight hug. Emotion floods my chest as it occurs to me how much I’ve come to value his friendship. Today was brutal, tonight even worse. My heart still aches from my goodbye with Nate, yet one hug from Lee Clarke soothes some of that sting.

“What was that for?” he demands when I release him.

“Just an I-really-appreciate-our-friendship hug.”

“Right then.” He’s rolling his eyes but at the same time beaming.

It’s 1 a.m. when the five of us return to the flat so Dad can grab his suitcase. Despite all the guys offering up their own rooms for him, he’s decided to stay at a boutique hotel nearby. You can retire the rock star but not the rock star’s penchant for expensive hotel rooms and thousand-thread-count sheets.

“I’ll grab you an Uber,” I tell him, pulling out my phone in the front hall. “At this hour, it shouldn’t take long at all to get one.”

“Thanks, baby girl. Just gonna use the john and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Lee stops my father at the stairs. “Thank you so much for dinner, sir. It was lovely.”

“Quite,” Jamie agrees. “Glad you’ll be sticking around for a few days, Mr. Bly.”

“I already told you guys, call me Gunner.” With an exasperated smile, Dad bounds off to use the bathroom.

“I’m gonna grab a shower.” Jack pauses on the bottom step, his gaze finding mine. He lowers his voice, which is futile since Lee is standing right there and isn’t polite enough to pretend he’s not listening. “Can we chat before bed?”

I nod, because I know we do need to talk.

As Jack heads upstairs, I turn to Lee and Jamie, giving them a grateful smile. “Thanks for being such good sports. You didn’t have to stay up so late on a school night for him.”

“Are you mental? It was bloody awesome,” Lee declares, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, did you just say awesome?” My surprise turns to suspicion when I remember my dad said it a bunch of times at dinner. Looks like Lee has a new role model.

“I meant brilliant,” he growls before stomping to the kitchen. “Fancy a cuppa?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Yes, thanks,” Jamie says, trailing after him.

I hear a plaintive meow from the top of the stairs and spot Hugh peeking around the corner. When I call his name, our grumpy cat turns and saunters off.

Rolling my eyes, I go upstairs to find him. I swear, if I didn’t remember to pay attention to Hugh, the damned thing would be starved for affection. The Lord of Cats would not approve of Lee’s stone heart when it comes to our dear pet.

At the top of the landing, I hear low voices wafting out of Jack’s open door. I grin, hoping Dad hasn’t cornered Jack to interrogate him. I should probably throw him a lifeline.

“No, I’m happy we got a chance to talk alone,” Jack is saying.

I near the door, ready to interfere and protect Jack from a dad lecture, when my father responds with, “Thank you for not mentioning it to Abbey.”

I stop.

Thank you for not mentioning it to Abbey?

Not mentioning what to Abbey?

Unease tightens my chest. I creep closer, no longer eager to interrupt them.

“Of course” is Jack’s answer. “I am a bit confused, though. Did you truly not know I was a bloke?”

My father’s laughter sounds muffled. Maybe because my heart is now thundering like a cattle stampede from the anger coursing in my blood.

Either I’m imagining things, or the two of them…know each other.

“Had no idea,” Dad says. “Gonna have to reread those emails now— ”

Emails?

“—to figure out how the hell I could’ve missed it. I saw that profile picture and thought you were the blond girl.”

Jack chuckles. “That’s my sister.”

“Well, regardless of the mistaken identity, I do appreciate you looking out for my daughter.”

“It was no problem, really. Although— ”

Jack’s next words stop me cold.

“—I do wish you’d let me return the money.”