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Ishouldn’t be here.
Stopping in my tracks, I place a trembling hand over my chest and take three deep breaths, hoping it’ll help calm me down.
It doesn’t.
I’m going to be in so much trouble, especially after what I went through to get it, but it’s wrong. God knows, I need it, but it doesn’t belong to me.
Taking one last breath, I continue my walk toward the house or, rather, castle.
The Kellys’ home is utterly enchanting. It’s something you’d expect to see in a Disney film, but no Prince Charming exists behind these doors.
Puck Kelly, or Punky as I overheard Darcy call him, is anything but a gentleman. He is rude, arrogant, and a fucking arsehole. Yes, he has every right to be mad at me as I did steal from him, but he was a jerk even before that happened.
So why am I here?
I owe him nothing, yet after last night, I can’t stop thinking about how underneath his anger, I sensed pain. The brooch means something to him, and I can’t hold onto it knowing that. This doesn’t make sense, but neither does my entire life, so carpe diem.
The rocks beneath my brown ankle boots crunch as I make my way toward the front door. I could leave the brooch in the mailbox, but if someone stole it, then all of this would have been for nothing. So I suck it up, straighten out my black dress, and ring the doorbell.
Children’s playful shrills sound in the distance.
I shouldn’t be here.
Turning quickly, ready to flee, I close my eyes and curse under my breath when the door opens. “Hi. Can I help you?”
An American?
Finding my courage, I turn back around and smile at the gorgeous woman standing in the Kellys’ doorway. “Er, hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but is…Punky home?”
The woman folds her arms across her chest, clearly sizing me up. I wonder what she sees.
“He’s not here,” she replies, and I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much. Is she Punky’s girlfriend?
A wave of…jealousy sweeps over me, though it’s completely irrational. I hate Puck Kelly, I remind myself. I’m only here to return what’s his. It doesn’t matter who he’s screwing.
So why do I have the sudden urge to pull out every strand of this stranger’s lush brown hair?
When she doesn’t offer to tell me where he is, or when he’ll be back, I get the hint. “Okay then, sorry to bother you.”
Suddenly, two curious faces peer around the doorjamb before creeping past the woman so they can get a better look at me.
“Hiya!” the girl says, smiling broadly. “What’s yer name? I’m Hannah.”
“Yer pretty,” the boy quickly follows. “I’m Ethan.”
I can’t help but smile because these two are absolutely adorable. “Hi, Hannah, I’m Poppy. It’s nice to meet you. And thank you, Ethan, I think you’re pretty too,” I say to both of them.
“Boys can’t be pretty,” Ethan replies, scrunching up his cherub face.
Bending low, I wink. “And why not? They can be whatever they want to be.”
“You talk funny.”
Laughing, I give my attention to Hannah. “That’s because I’m from London.”
Her eyes widen before she whispers not so quietly, “Amber, she knows Paddington Bear!”
The stranger has a name. Amber. And Amber is pissed off I’m still here.
