Chapter 3

Three

HENRY

The sun sweeps through the break in my shades as I lay in bed contemplating starting my day before the alarm goes off or hitting the snooze button. After short deliberations, it becomes apparent that I won’t be able to fall back asleep. May as well start the day.

The house is quiet with the exception of the sporadic gust of strong wind racing along the rear side of the house. Living alone at my age is not what I had planned for myself, but I can’t complain after finding this beautiful home in a small town an hour outside of London. It’s not quite living in the country, but with so few people living here, it sometimes feels that way.

Ever the multitasker, I reach into the shower and start the hot water while I brush my teeth. As the steam begins to fill the room, I lean back on the sink, letting it rid my body of its morning chill.

As the world becomes more connected, I enjoy the peace showers provide. A time to truly reflect with nothing but my own thoughts as the scorching water relaxes my muscles. My feet test the temperature before I walk under the multiple jets cascading warm water over me.

In these moments, I am most grateful to my former self, who decided to get the largest shower option when renovating the house. I can still remember the contractor’s look when I picked this one.

“That one? It’s big enough for five people.” He chuckles.

“Oh, is it? That might come in handy…” I respond with a wink, thinking about my extremely busy social calendar.

“Well, cheers to you, sir,” he says with a grin that is a mix of jealousy and admiration.

When I purchased and remodeled this place, I was a somewhat newly single and a famous movie director living in London. I was never wanting for a body to warm my bed after my divorce, but that was years ago when I was trying to distract myself from dealing with the consequences of my failed marriage.

At one time, I was sure I would be with my wife until my dying day, but things never work out how you expect them to. We married in our early twenties, caught up in young love, and instantly had the boys. After years spent growing apart and being frustrated with each other, we finally decided to separate. I loved her—still do, as the mother of my children—but we didn’t know how to love each other as anything other than young people in love without a care in the world. It was the impulsivity that drew us in and before we knew it, it was too late. We grew to want different things out of life and that is clear now more than ever.

This setback, as some may call it, has brought simplicity to my life that I was craving when I was married.

Since then, I have had no desire to make myself that vulnerable again and closed the door to romantic relationships. Sure, I am an expert at portraying love on the big screen, but the more I think back, I’m not sure it even exists on its own outside of young love. It’s easy to love someone when you’re living in the moment and making every decision on a whim without any responsibilities.

Now, years later, I have pulled back on my social life, only going out while I’m in London. My time spent in my home is just for me and my sons when they visit. That’s not to say I still don’t enjoy the passing company of an attractive woman. I exclusively date with no expectation of love, and that is as far as I’d like to take my companionship. Which still provides the thrill of the first date but none of the disappointment when you get to really know each other.

It didn’t take long to get back in the game, but it was a learning curve when it came to pulling. As a gentleman, I am always sure to share my intentions with the women I plan to bed. I am not looking for anything serious, but they sometimes have trouble letting go after our nights together. That’s understandable, I’m sure to show them an amazing time.

The issue became glaringly clear after bringing women back to my London apartment when they tended to stick around too long. Each one was a lovely lady, but they didn’t always respect my intentions. After that, I decided to give up my apartment in London and make the estate outside the city my permanent residence.

Now, when asking a woman out, I am able to share that I’m visiting with family and don’t have a place to take her afterward. It is a genius plan. Hence why I always stay with my sons, Oliver and Finn, when I am in the city. It ensures that when I do have a date, if we decide to take things further then we go back to her place, allowing me to make a quick break in the morning.

Unfortunately, that means I never had the chance to test just how many women would fit in this shower at one time. I shake my head as I leave the shower, “What a pity.”

After dressing for the day, I settle into the kitchen with my morning tea and enjoy the view of my garden through the window above the sink. When my bachelor days first began, I was in town every weekend, but as time passes, I find myself making the trip into the city far less often. Oliver and Finn insist I visit at least once a month, but they don’t understand how much I enjoy the quiet here.

They aren’t the only ones who are on my case about heading back to the city. My agent, Mark, has been calling with job offers for the last few months. I don’t know why he keeps calling—he knows I’m not interested. There’s a stack of movie scripts by my door for recycling; regardless of my disinterest, Mark insists on sending them, hoping one will catch my eye. I’ve directed more movies than I can count. The scripts vary between genres—some dramas, a comedy, but most are romance movies. Romance is my specialty, at least it was before I quietly retired. They keep insisting, “I get back out there” in the film industry. I just don’t have an interest in sharing love stories anymore, especially not these modern subpar stories. No need to ruin my perfect reputation as a director.

Finishing up my morning tea, I grab the pile and head out the backdoor for my morning walk, tossing the scripts into the recycling right outside the door.

To ensure these morning walks are the most relaxing part of my day, I leave my phone at home so I can clear my mind and enjoy the scenery. A cool breeze glides across my cheek as a reminder that October will soon be coming to an end and winter is not far behind. My fingers chill while I tighten my scarf, quickly stuffing them back into my coat pockets as soon as it’s fixed. After letting a shiver roll through me, I continue on my usual route. Living in a small town affords privacy. Today, I do not cross paths with any of my neighbors, but when I do, we share a simple nod and continue on our way. Passing by the small bakery with rich smells of fresh bread tells me I am just about at the end of my walk.

Once returning home, I grab my phone and sink into my favorite chair beside the fireplace. Moving a little closer to the heat in hopes of ridding myself of this chill, I swipe my frozen thumb across the screen.

There is a missed call and text from my youngest son, Finn.

Finn

Morning!

He knows I hate texting. I close the app and call him.

“Good morning, Son. ”

“Hey, Pop! I was just calling to check if you wanted a ride in on Friday?” I squeeze my fingers on the bridge of my nose. I forgot I told them I would visit this week. I suppose we did make plans.

“No, that’s all right, I will drive in on my own. Same time?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. We have some things planned for the week, but don’t worry, nothing too elaborate.”

I don’t disguise the sigh. “All right, I’ll see you on Friday. Take care!”

“We are heading out to the coffee shop after dinner, Dad,” Oliver says as we set the table in the townhouse they share. I’m always pleasantly surprised they keep such a large place so clean. With three bedrooms, two full baths, and a large kitchen with its own dining room and living space, it still manages to look like a hotel each time I’m here. They were so messy as young boys, especially during their teenage years. I suppose they could have grown out of that while at university, but I have a feeling they only keep it this clean because they both have girlfriends who visit often. I clearly raised smart men—no woman would enter this place if it looked as messy as their childhood bedrooms.

“Can’t we order those in?” I ask. I don’t particularly want to sit at a coffee shop this evening.

Finn rolls his eyes. “We are meeting the girls there, you were asking for them before, and now you get to spend time with them.” I do enjoy their girlfriends, Hannah and Mia. I suppose it will be nice to be at the coffee shop late at night.

Oliver perks his head up as he remembers something. “Oh, and you get to meet Lucy! She will be there too.”

Before I can ask who Lucy is, Finn chimes up, “I’m winning tonight. I know I have a solid guess, and I’m going to win.”

“Win what? And who is Lucy?” My fingers drum on the top of the counter as my concern grows at an exponential rate. My sons have pulled sneaky setups with me before. They don’t oppose my “hook-ups,” as they call them, in town, but they do bring up “worrying about me living all alone in that big house” and how they’d feel better if I had someone as if I’m a senior citizen. Falling in love and getting married at a young age meant I became a father young as well. Having just turned fifty, I don’t consider myself a fall risk and am confident I can handle myself well enough alone.

Finn turns to me, his eyes sparkling, and he grins. “Oh! We forgot to tell you about Lucy. She’s this nice lady we met at the coffee shop. She’s American and moved here by herself about a month ago. She used to be a schoolteacher in the States. We asked what brought her to town—she always dreamed of living in England and once she finished her teaching career, she took the plunge and moved here. I think she is teaching university classes now.” He barely stops to catch his breath as he goes on about this woman. If she just finished her teaching career, that would mean she picked London as a place to live out her retirement.

“She reads at the coffee shop where we double date, and we would try to guess what she was reading when we were bored, so one night, I dared Oliver to ask her what she was reading. He did and we’ve kind of brought her into the group after that.”

Well, it doesn’t seem to be a hook-up at all. It sounds like my boys have befriended a lonely, older woman. Pride washes over me; my sons have done a nice thing, and she must have a good sense of humor to put up with them on more than one occasion. The more I think about it, the more I want to befriend this elderly woman too. Might be nice to have an older female companion.

“So what is it that you will win tonight?” I am still puzzled about that part.

Oliver leans over, “Well, we’ve continued trying to guess what Lucy is reading at the moment. Her favorite hobby is reading. I think her only regret about moving here is that she couldn’t bring her library with her. She mostly uses her e-reader.”

“So you just pick book titles out of the infinite amount of books she can be reading. How can you ever guess correctly?”

“We mainly guess genres,” Finn answered. “Hannah won that first night.”

“What was she reading when Hannah won?” I asked.

“ The Great Gatsby ” Finn shakes his head and mutters, “Typical American.”

Could be worse—she could have been reading a romance novel. The Great Gatsby is certainly not a romantic book. If anything, it’s a cautionary tale against it. “Interesting, well I’m looking forward to our evening then.”

As we turn the corner, the Regency Roast Coffee Shop appears to our right. The establishment’s choice of name always makes me chuckle. I spot Hannah and Mia at a table right inside the window. Greetings are exchanged as we enter, and I sit and begin looking around for the older woman.

“Does Lucy take a taxi to get here?” I ask the table.

Mia answers, “She usually walks. Her apartment isn’t too far. Just a couple of blocks in that direction.” She points in the opposite direction than we came.

“Oh wow, she walks here…by herself,” I say. I guess she isn’t as fragile as I was thinking. Good for her, a woman of her advanced age.

I hear the chimes of the coffee shop door open and look up. In walks a beautiful, tall woman with long brown hair. She’s bundled up in a black peacoat that hugs her curves with a long scarf that runs the length of her body, meeting the top of her boots at her knees. A matching hat sits on the back of her head. Perhaps she is also planning to sit in the shop while enjoying her order. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind if I slipped away to chat her up. She meets my eyes and I’m locked in her trance. Tonight might turn out better than expected.

Before I can decide how best to make my move, I hear Hannah shout, “Lucy! We are over here.” The woman turns to Hannah and approaches the table.

This is Lucy…

Well, fuck.