“I know you will,” Josie said in a teasing voice, but she meant it. She was literally falling apart, but no one seemed to notice. Or maybe everyone was so jaded they stopped caring. All that mattered was winning. Not being on the right side.
In her hotel room, Josie slipped out of her heels, pencil skirt, and blouse. She cranked the shower water onto scalding and finished removing her underthings. Standing under the water, she tried to let the filth of her job wash off. Josie placed her hands on the shower wall and allowed the water to pummel her face. Flipping around, she had the water beat down between her shoulder blades and didn’t move until the water started to cool.
After toweling off, she slipped into a pair of sweats and a hoodie to go have her nightly chat with Little Bear, but she remembered her mum’s message. Cold now, she climbed under the bedcovers and hit play on the video.
The image was wobbly at first, making Josie squint to make out what she was supposed to see. Four women sat on bar stools in the middle of the pub. Natalie was on the far left, a Japanese-style white paper screen blocking her view of the three other women.
Her mum had finally gotten the dating show off the ground. Good for her.
The video cut out for a second and then zoomed in on Harry.
Harry?
Josie held her phone closer to her face. “Why is Harry on my mum’s dating show?”
Natalie asked, “What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?”
Harry took the handheld mic from the woman on her right. “Um, the first thing that pops into my mind is letting someone go.”
There was a voice, either Natalie’s or someone else’s in the audience.
Harry looked uncomfortable, clearly not wanting to elaborate. “Um… a woman I cared deeply for had an opportunity of a lifetime in a different country, and as much as it killed me, I encouraged her to take it. I wanted to plead with her not to go. But I didn’t, knowing if she didn’t take the job, she’d always regret it.”
There was another voice that was hard to make out.
“Do I regret it?” Harry placed a hand on her chest. “No. Sometimes you have to do what’s right, even if you know it’ll hurt. And it does. I feel her absence every second of the day. But she’s chasing her dream. I’m proud of her.” Harry seemed to look right into the camera. “I’ll always want what’s best for her.”
Natalie seemed to say wow and then asked another question. Harry passed the mic to the woman on her left, the poor woman seeming shell-shocked by Harry’s vulnerability.
Since Josie had left, Clive had been sending her copies of Harry’s newspaper, each with a note saying I know you enjoy the crosswords. Until that moment, Josie had only stored them, but never had the heart to solve them. She pulled them out and arranged them chronologically. With trepidation, she started to solve each puzzle, looking for clues. The first she found was agony for heartbreak. In a different puzzle, she solved: torch songs for tunes about unrequited love. Each crossword had more hints about Harry’s heartbroken state. When Josie figured out the answer to Casablanca as the saddest movie ever, Josie knew she’d made a dreadful mistake.
An ad about a podcast caught Josie’s eye. A Shot at Love. Wasn’t that the one Carol had mentioned that night a few weeks ago? Josie searched for it on her phone and hit play on the most recent episode. Harry’s posh voice filled Josie’s ears. After listening to Agnes and William talking about how they finally realized they were meant to be together, tears streamed down Josie’s face.
She looked up at the ceiling and expelled a breath. “I wish I could tell you how terribly sad and alone I am, but I don’t know how.”
Five days later, Josie’s candidate stood in front of her fans, giving an acceptance speech, the crowd bursting into cheers at every opportunity. Balloons and confetti streamed down on everyone.
Carol dug her hands into Josie’s shoulders. “We fucking did it!”
Josie leaned against Carol, wiped out from the final push.
“In eight years, you’ll be writing an inauguration speech, kiddo. We’re in the big leagues now!”
Eight more years of this shit. That sounded like hell.
Josie peered over her shoulder and stared into Carol’s face. The older woman seemed to know what Josie wanted to say. Carol nodded and spun Josie around to face her. Josie sucked her lips into her mouth so she wouldn’t cry.
Carol said loud enough to be heard, “Go home, Josie. Chase your heart or Little whatever. All I want is for you to be happy.”
“You won’t hate me for leaving?”
“I’ll be jealous as hell picturing you living in a quaint village away from all this, but I could never hate you. I want you to be happy.”
Josie hugged Carol. “Promise you’ll visit me.”
“In Upper Chewford? I wonder if I can meet that podcaster.”
Josie grinned. “I hope so. I plan on marrying her.”
“Little whatever is the podcaster?”
Josie nodded.
“Get the fuck out!”
Josie continued nodding.
“What fucking took you so long? Better yet, why’d you leave in the first place?”
“I had to know if I was truly done with politics.” Josie scanned the pandemonium of the crowd as well as Melissa and her husband, their conjoined hands raised victoriously in the air. “I’m so done with this.”
Chapter Forty-Two
It was the nineteenth of April. The sun was shining. Birds chirped sweet melodies. The sound of a child laughing floated in the air. It was the picture-perfect spring morning in the Cotswolds. Harriet even spied a precious lamb frolicking in a field, happy to be alive.
It was as if the universe was screaming for Harriet to appreciate the beauty surrounding her. Yet, Harriet tucked her head down into the collar of her jacket, blotting out all the fucking signs of happiness and life marching on.
She was miserable and didn’t think she’d ever snap out of it.
Harriet stopped in her tracks on the footbridge, remembering the night she had stood there, laying her eyes on Josie for the first time. Slowly, she scanned the morning dew on the grass, up to the horizon, where the deep-blue sky met the brilliant green landscape, and finally landing on the spot where Josie had stood when it seemed the world had stopped for the two of them to see each other. Making a connection.
On this beautiful spring morning, no one was there.
Harriet turned around and made her way back to her cottage.
Before she could put her key into the lock, someone shouted, “Harry, there you are!”
She turned to see Theo.
Before she could greet him, he said, “I have another idea for the paper. Hear me out.” He planted his feet wide apart, with his arms out as if ready to stop Harriet from fleeing.
Harriet effectively closed her ears but managed to nod her head occasionally to give the impression she was taking his concept to heart. Even with the ginger ads fiasco finally put to bed, Theo was determined for everyone in the village to believe he was the true Romeo of Upper Chewford and kept concocting bizarre ways to solidify the image. The success of her podcast compounded the issue, and everyone was under the misconception Harriet believed in love. Ha! In her experience, love only left one broken and scattered, like a scarecrow pecked away by the birds.
Why did she keep doing the podcast, then? Was she just a glutton for punishment? Or a sucker for holding out for a glimmer of hope?
How was it possible that the end of her marriage with Alice hadn’t left Harriet with the pain of Josie’s absence? She’d only met Josie last October, less than a year ago. And her life would never be the same.
“What do you think?” Theo stared at her with wide eyes.
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“Great!” He had no idea Harriet hadn’t heard a word.
“I have an interview, so I better get going.”
“Of course. Love stops for no one.” He waved for her to get to her important
work.
Harriet wanted to punch the man in the nose. Instead, she offered a thin-lipped smile and left him next to the river.
Inside her cottage, she sighed when she spied the empty space. She missed seeing Camilla sitting on the couch. Hell, she even missed walking in on her cousin doing naked yoga. No, that wasn’t right. She just missed having Cam’s company.
There was a knock on the door, but Harriet didn’t have time to answer. She had to prepare for her Skype interview. Whoever it was would just have to come back.
The interview was with a woman who had emailed Harriet saying she had to be on A Shot at Love. She didn’t elaborate much, but it had been a blessing to Harriet since the one she had lined up for this week had to cancel at the last moment for a family emergency. Whoever wanted to be interviewed had saved Harriet from missing a weekly episode.
Harriet filled her thirty-ounce Yetti mug with enough tea to power her through the next couple of hours. Settling into her desk chair, Harriet opened Audacity on her laptop and then plugged in her microphone, tilting it upward.
She tapped it with a finger and then said, “Testing. One, two, three. Testing.”
She hit play and heard her words.
After taking a sip of tea, she cleared her throat. “Now or never.”
She entered the person’s details. There was the distinct Skype ring. Another. After the fourth, the screen was filled with light. Harriet could see her own image in the upper right-hand corner, but not the person on the other line.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can.”
Harriet shook her head as if she were hearing things.
Josie’s image appeared. “Hi, Harry.”
“Josie… I-I… wasn’t expecting you.”
“That was the point.”
Harriet’s stomach roiled. Josie had a love story that had to be shared. How would Harriet get through this without breaking down?
“O-okay,” Harriet stuttered.
“Are you all right?” Josie asked. “We have a weak connection, and the image froze momentarily.”
“Fine. I’m fine.” She spoke quickly. “Do you need to talk some before we start recording, or are you ready to dive in?”
“I’m ready.” Josie didn’t seem all that nervous, unlike most of Harriet’s interviewees.
“Great.” Harriet wanted to disappear. What happened to the speechwriter who preferred putting words into someone else’s mouth? “Let’s begin.”
“Let’s.” Josie sounded so happy and relaxed.
This was going to be worse than hellish. What was the word for it? Diabolical? Infernal? Vicious?
“Okay. We’re recording.” Harriet did her intro to the best of her ability, which wasn’t great. She could barely get out the word episode and then butchered the podcast title. But she pressed on, not wanting to stop for a redo. She just wanted the experience done with.
After introducing Josie, Harriet said, “Before diving into the juicy bits…” Bile rose in Harriet’s throat as she said one of her typical lines. “Why don’t you tell the listeners a bit about yourself?”
Josie obliged, seeming more and more comfortable the longer she spoke.
Harriet mangled her stress ball out of sight of the camera.
When Josie started to talk about the latest election, she became even more animated. “I started getting an idea of what I had to do the closer the election got.”
“What you had to do?” Harriet repeated.
“I think I knew all along, but it wasn’t until I saw this video that everything became clear. Well, also after I solved all the puzzles and then listened to this podcast, actually.”
“My podcast?” Harriet placed a hand on her chest.
“Yes. As soon as I heard your voice, I knew what I had to do.”
“Which was?”
“Well, I had my mum email you and set up an interview.”
“Your mum?” Harriet squeezed the ball until it was nearly flat.
“Yes. Then I had her cancel at the last minute.”
“Why?” Nothing was making sense.
“So when I emailed, you’d be desperate for an interview and not ask too many questions.” Josie’s smile was wide.
“But… why put me through this? It’s… mean.”
Josie’s smile fell. “Oh, Harry. Don’t you see?”
“That you’ve fallen in love and want to rub my nose in it?”
“You’re only half right.” Josie put a hand up. “Just listen.”
Harriet stared into the shining light on her laptop.
“I am in love. So very much in love. With you.”
Harriet continued staring at the white light.
“Harry? Did you hear me?”
“Say it again.”
Josie smiled. “I love you, Harriet Powell.”
“Where are you?”
“At the pub.”
“What pub?” Harriet barked, looking at the image behind Josie, but she only saw windows. She counted. Nine panes.
As Harriet was putting the pieces together, Josie answered, “The Golden Fleece. Where we met.”
Harriet jumped to her feet.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Harry? Harry, are you there?”
Josie looked at her mum and then Clive.
“Where is she?” her mum asked.
“Gone.”
Her mum walked behind Josie to look for herself. “Where’d she go?”
“Maybe she fainted. Should I go check on her?” Clive also looked at the screen.
“Maybe she doesn’t feel the same,” Josie said.
Clive shook his head. “She loves you, or I’m a monkey’s uncle. Isn’t that what you Americans say?”
Josie stared at Clive, unable to utter a word. She raked her hands through her hair, staring at the pub’s ceiling, her eyes brimming with tears. Josie hadn’t considered Harry would react that way. To just bolt. Harry wasn’t the bolting type. The woman had to think everything through. Action wasn’t a word Josie ever associated with Harry.
Until now.
“Just when I was starting to warm up to her.” Her mum blew out a helpless breath. “Would you like some tea?”
The pub’s door burst open.
Harry stood there, struggling to breathe.
Josie rose and rushed to her. “Are you okay?”
“Ran… here.” Harry bent over, trying to catch her breath.
Josie laughed. “I thought you were the type to walk and smell the flowers.”
Harry straightened. “Maybe I never had something to run to before now.”
Josie tossed her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed the out-of-breath woman. On her forehead. Her cheeks. She smothered every inch of Harry’s face with tender pecks.
Harry finally captured Josie’s mouth and kissed her deeply.
Clive hooted.
Her mum clapped.
Winston barked.
The cats left the room with their tails upright, making it clear they had zero interest in human happiness.
Everything was perfect.
“Have you recovered?” Josie asked.
Harry held Josie in her arms. “From what?”
Josie bopped Harry on the head. “You can be terrible when you want to be.”
“Says the woman who left me and then had her mum help set me up with a fake interview.”
“I was trying to be romantic.”
Harry stared into Josie’s eyes. “You should leave the romance to me.”
Josie laughed.
Harry climbed on top of Josie.
They hadn’t left Harry’s bed in hours.
“What exactly were you referring to? Have I recovered from all the sex? From running to you? From thinking you’d fallen in love with someone else?”
Taken aback, Josie asked, “How could you think I’d fallen for someone else?”
“It was the only thing that made sense to me in the moment.”
Jo
sie’s eyes misted. “Oh, Harry, I could never love anyone like I adore you. Wait. Do you actually think I’d pull a trick like that to rub your face in it?”
Harry kissed Josie.
“Nice recovery.” Josie laughed.
“I’m learning to act on my feet or—” Harry eyed their naked status. “Or whatever.”
“Yes. Clearly.”
Harry kissed Josie again.
“I love having you on top of me.” Josie ran her hand up and down Harry’s back.
“It’s becoming my favorite place in the world.”
“Does that mean we can’t shag in the woods ever again?”
Harry smiled. “We’ll see, but I am glad that wasn’t our final time together, although you made me wait months for this.”
“You’re the one who told me to take the job,” Josie corrected her.
“No. I told you to do what you wanted to do. You took the job.”
“Because I thought you didn’t want me to stay.”
“Why would you ever think that?”
“You offered to drive me to the airport.”
Harry sighed. “You were the one who complained about working in the pub. I really thought you wanted to be a speechwriter again, and I refused to be the person to hold you back.”
“I think part of me wanted to find out if I was done with politics for good. It didn’t take me that long to realize how much I hated it. And I missed everything here. You. Mum. Clive. Even pulling pints for silent William.”
“He’s not so silent now. He and Agnes sit for hours in the pub, talking.”
Josie shook her head. “It’s funny. William’s now a chatterbox, and it took us months to figure things out. For two people who love words, we fucking suck at communication.”
Harry glanced down at their midsections. “We’re kinda good at nonverbal communication.”
“Are we? It’s been so long since we communicated that way.”
“Is that right? We should correct that as soon as possible.” Harry leaned down to kiss Josie. “Do we ever have to leave this bed?”
“Never.”
Epilogue
Harriet stood to the side as Josie frantically waved her arms and spoke at rapid-fire speed, directing a team of workers in the pub. The crew nodded, possibly afraid to say a word to Josie, who was six months pregnant and even more determined than ever. Being a bossy but gorgeous American was probably in Josie’s favor. Who didn’t love an American accent?
A Shot at Love Page 28
