I walked back to my flat, perplexed by my conversation with Elodie’s sister, Ellen. Perhaps it was the fact that they didn’t have a good relationship that made her frosty. But then, she’d acted weirdly suspicious, thinking I was a journalist out to find a story. What was that all about?

Again, something simply wasn’t adding up.

When I’d discovered Elodie had a sister, I was amused and intrigued by the resemblance. They had different coloured hair and eyes, but their facial features were identical.

Ellen reminded me of Elodie insofar as they had the same face, practically the same voice, but that was where the similarities ended. Ellen wore jeans and T-shirts, no makeup, and had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks that were adorable.

I liked to imagine myself as a scholar of women. All of their variations and idiosyncrasies fascinated me, so to discover two sisters who were so different in temperament made me feel like an archaeologist who’d just stumbled upon a rare fossil.

One more thing they had in common: neither sister was interested in me, which was perfectly fine. I’d long since accepted I was not the sort of man women chose to date or settle down with. I was the sort they enjoyed a thrilling, sexually adventurous affair with for a few weeks before moving on, and that was okay. Sure, more and more often these days, I wondered what it would be like to be loved completely and unconditionally by someone, but I would never ask a single woman to accept what I did for a living. It just wouldn’t be fair.

I reminded myself that life was too short to spend it with any one person. With my particular profession, I got to enjoy all the colours, shapes, sizes, and souls that God had seen fit to create.

Rose was packing when I arrived home. Tomorrow was Damon’s last day of filming, so they were off back to the island on Sunday. Since they were the only real family I had, I’d be sad to see them go.

My mother had been admitted into a psychiatric hospital when I was in my late teens and I’d never met my father. Now Mum lived in an assisted living facility. I went to visit her a few times a year, but it was never certain if she’d be happy to see me. Sometimes she’d greet me with a smile, maybe even a hug. Other times she’d be cold and withdrawn, too much inside her own head.

She suffered from an extreme form of bipolar depression. It was one of the many things she passed on to me. However, unlike Mum, I was able to manage my moods with medication and self-care. When her past lover, Elijah, with whom she’d been having a polyamorous relationship including two other women, chose one of the other women over her, Mum suffered a manic break. It was one of the most tumultuous periods of my life, and in the end, I had to make the hard decision to admit Mum into a facility. It was a choice I lived to regret somewhat, because now she didn’t want to leave. She was institutionalised, and the idea of re-entering the outside world terrified her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Rose asked as I flopped down onto the bed. She knelt on the floor, carefully folding clothes and placing them in her suitcase.

I made a dramatic frown. “I don’t want you to go.”

Her expression softened. “Why don’t you come with us? You could do with a break from the city. Do some meditation. Read a few books. It’ll be good for you.”

I considered it. The idea of getting away from all the hustle and bustle was appealing, but then I thought of my current preoccupation with Elodie and Ellen. I was too intrigued by them to leave right now. There was just something about them that I needed to get to the bottom of.

“It’s not a good time for me to go away.”

“Oh? Does this have to do with a client?” Rose asked, curious.

“No, for once this has nothing to do with a client. You know Elodie?”

Her expression turned knowing. “Ah, right. The sexpot from the coffee shop.”

I smiled at her phrasing. “Well, do you remember Ellen, from the bookshop the other day?”

“I thought her name was Bernice?”

“No, that was the owner. I’m talking about the shop girl in the back.”

Rose twisted her mouth to the side, trying to recall. “Vaguely.”

“Well, it turns out she’s Elodie’s sister.”

“Really? Small world.”

“I know, but there’s something about them that doesn’t add up.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Both are immune to my charms, for one.”

“That old chestnut. You want what you can’t have.”

“It’s not that. I’ve had my advances rejected before, as you well know. It’s just that they both seem…overly suspicious of me. Like they don’t trust my intentions even though they don’t even know me.”

“Huh. Maybe they’re just bitches,” Rose suggested. I picked up a pair of rolled up socks and threw them at her head.

“They’re not bitches. Well, at least I don’t get that impression.”

“Then what?”

“That’s the problem. I have no idea.”

“So, you’re going to be consumed with finding out what their deal is for the foreseeable future and that’s why you can’t come to Scotland?”

“Pretty much.”

She exhaled a breath. “You’re always wrapped up in some new person or other, so I’m just going to leave you to it. You better come in the summer though. I miss you when you’re not around.”

“Aw, and there was me thinking I was the third wheel to yours and Damon’s epic love life.”

Rose scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Are you still going to the bookshop tomorrow to pick up that new novel you wanted?”

She nodded excitedly. “Of course. I’ve been counting down the days.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“So that you might bump into Elodie’s sister again?”

I smiled wide. “Perchance.”

I considered the idea that Ellen was simply shy, and her standoffishness was a form of armour. But then, what was Elodie’s problem with me? She certainly wasn’t shy. At least, that was the impression I got from the weeks I spent listening to her conversations with Suze.

It sounded pretty bad when I put it like that, didn’t it?

Oh well, I never claimed to be some noble, trustworthy prince.

I was surprised to find the bookshop crowded with people when Rose and I arrived on Saturday afternoon. A large display featuring the latest Sasha Orlando release, The Games We Play, had been set up in the middle of the store and people were queueing up to get their copies.

“This is so exciting,” Rose exclaimed as she grabbed a paperback and joined the queue. I looked around for Ellen, but there was no sign of her. Bernice stood by the counter, ringing up purchases. I felt a measure of disappointment and wondered if maybe she was in the storeroom out back. Rose had her nose buried in the book, already several pages in by the time we reached the counter.

Bernice gave a friendly smile when she saw us. “You came back.”

“I have a trip tomorrow, so I need my reading material,” Rose replied with a wide grin.

“Well, I’ll thank you for your custom.”

“Is Ellen working today?” I asked. “I was hoping to speak with her.”

Bernice gave a sad look. “She was, but she went home about an hour ago. Poor thing suffers terrible anxiety in crowds. Normally it’s just one or two customers in here at a time, but when there’s a big book release, we get a lot more people in.”

Huh. Was that the reason for how she acted around me? I suddenly felt horrible for forcing conversation on her. She must’ve been nervous as hell having a stranger come up to her like that.

“That’s awful,” Rose said.

Bernice nodded. “She was in such a rush to get out of here that she left her ticket behind. It’s for tonight’s show of Hamilton. A friend of mine works at the theatre and managed to snag a seat for Ellen. I’m hoping to get a chance to drop it over to her at some point today, but I’ve been rushed off my feet.”

“Does she live close by?” I asked.

“Yes, she’s just over on Esther Crescent.”

“Rose and I can slot the ticket in her letterbox, if you like? We’re walking that direction anyway.”

Rose gave me a questioning look, while Bernice eyed me with playful suspicion. “Are you certain you aren’t trying to snag the ticket for yourself?”

I winked at her. “I promise you my intentions are honourable.”

She chewed her lip. “Well, since the show starts in a few hours it’s important she gets it.” A pause as she seemed to conclude that she could trust us. “Her house is number 119.” She pulled a small envelope out from behind the counter.

“Perfect. We’ll have it to her in no time.”

I was certain that if Rose, my blue-eyed, innocent and kind looking best friend weren’t with me, Bernice wouldn’t be quite so willing to trust me with the prized ticket. We walked out of the shop, waving goodbye to Bernice. Once we were around the corner, Rose stopped me in my tracks.

“Perhaps it’s not such a good idea for you to go over there. If she suffers from anxiety, then having someone like you show up will only make it worse.”

I arched a brow and put a hand on my hip. “Someone like me?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re well aware of the effect you have on women. You fluster them. I’ve witnessed it plenty of times.”

“I’m just going to slot the ticket in her letterbox, no euphemism intended,” I winked. “There won’t be any flustering.”

“Do you promise?”

I swept a finger over the left side of my chest. “Cross my heart.”

Rose eyed me. “Okay, good, because I have to go meet Damon for lunch.”

“Hold on. You’re not coming with me?”

“I can’t. I already told you I have plans.”

“Fine, go. I’ll see you back at the flat later.”

“And remember, drop off the ticket and leave. Don’t knock on the door, don’t hedge to be invited in. In summation, don’t try to work your devilish charms in any way.”

“Heard and registered. No door knocking, hedging, or devilish charming shall occur. You have my word.”

I saluted her, and Rose shook her head. We exchanged a hug and then she walked in the direction of the nearest Tube station. I headed toward the address Bernice gave, the long street lined with period homes. They didn’t appear to be split up into flats either, which meant Ellen lived in one of these all by herself. How on earth did someone who worked in a bookshop afford a place like this?

But then, I remembered Elodie mentioning she lived in this area, too. Did they live together? No, that didn’t make sense, especially considering they supposedly weren’t close. Perhaps it was some kind of house share.

I climbed the steps leading to the front door of 119, eyed the letterbox, then hesitated. Rose had warned me against it, but what harm could it do to knock and present her with the ticket in person? Some part of me yearned to see her, check if she was okay. Surely, it wasn’t a good sign for a few extra people in the bookshop to freak her out so much.

Feeling spontaneous, I lifted the knocker. A moment passed. No one answered. I glanced at the window and saw the curtains twitch. Ellen peeked her head out for a second then ducked out of view.

I knocked again, and again there was no answer.

“Ellen, I came with your ticket for the show tonight. Bernice said you left it behind at the bookshop,” I called out.

More silence.

“I know you’re in there, darling. I saw you peek out just now.”

Still nothing. She must’ve been embarrassed. After another moment or two, I decided to slot it through the letterbox like originally planned, but then I heard the lock flick over. The door opened, and Ellen stood before me. She hid most of her body behind the door, and her face was slightly blotchy. Had she been crying? My heart clenched at the thought.

I knew what anxiety felt like, since I’d experienced enough of it as a kid. Mum was always up and down, always with a new boyfriend, some of them nice, others not so nice. When you lived in an unpredictable world with no security, anxiety was your ally. It warned you of coming danger. But like I said, with the help of medication, I’d since learned to manage it. If the look of Ellen was anything to go by, she was deep in the midst.

“Hi,” she said, reaching a hand out for her ticket.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I handed it over, my question edged with sympathy.

“I’m fine. Thanks for bringing this.” She sniffed, then made to close the door.

“You don’t look fine. Is there someone I can call for you? Elodie? Maybe one of your brothers?”

She must’ve heard the genuine concern in my voice because she lost some of her guardedness. “No, thank you. I’ll be o-okay.”

The quaver in her voice broke my heart, and I felt the strongest urge to comfort her. I placed my hand on the door to keep her from closing it in my face.

“My mum used to get the same thing. When I was a kid, she was pretty nervous in crowds. She self-medicated though, and that just made things worse,” I blurted, frowning at myself. I hadn’t meant to share that.

Ellen opened the door a little more. “Your mum?”

“I don’t get to see her very often anymore,” I said sadly.

She stared at me, and I tensed. Her big brown eyes seemed to have this way of looking right into your soul. I hadn’t felt that with Elodie. With Elodie, I’d gotten the sense that she was looking past me for a better option. But Ellen truly looked at you, gave you her full attention. She appeared to come to some conclusion when she said, “I’m sorry for being rude to you the other day. I wasn’t myself.”

“No apology needed. I understand.”

She shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

“Then explain it to me,” I urged.

I had no idea why I felt such a strong draw to her. Maybe because I’d spent so many hours studying her sister, who looked so much like her, I felt a connection, like I already knew her somehow.

Ellen was quiet for a long moment, her head tilted up to study me. “I’m probably going to regret this, but would you like to come inside for a cup of tea?”

I gave her a soft smile, something unfurling in my chest at the offer. She was clearly going out of her way to be kind to me, when all she probably wanted to do was close herself inside her house and wish the world away.

“I’d love to.”

She opened the door so I could step in by her, and I was instantly met with a beautiful hand-painted mural of climbing roses. It started at the door and meandered up the antique staircase.

“Do you live here on your own?” I asked.

She seemed hesitant to answer. “Yes, I, uh, inherited the place from my Grandma.”

“It’s a beautiful building.”

She nodded. “I’m very lucky.”

Ellen led me into an even more impressive kitchen. It had a large modern window that looked out into a fairy forest of a back garden. There were hanging lights and twisty vines climbing the walls, overgrown plants, and wildflowers all over. The forest theme seemed to extend into the kitchen as there were plants everywhere. Another mural encapsulated the back wall, this one of a cherry blossom tree. I wondered who the artist was. The painting fanned out around a large, intricate brass cage, inside of which were two exotic looking birds.

Seriously, who lived in a house like this? The Grandma story aside, Ellen was hiding something.

I walked up to the birdcage to admire her stunning creatures. “Hello there.”

“Their names are Skittles and Rainbow,” Ellen said quietly. “They’re lovebirds.”

I tilted my head to her. “Is it true that they mate for life?”

“Most of them do, yes.”

“Why lovebirds?” I turned to give her my full attention now. It was strange that I’d thought Elodie was the interesting one because I was starting to suspect her sister had hidden depths.

She glanced at the floor, lifted a shoulder, then said, “They make such strong bonds. They’re happy to sit side by side, day in and day out. There’s something lovely yet heartbreaking about it.”

I took a step closer to her. “Heartbreaking?”

When she spoke, her voice was still so quiet, like she wasn’t used to having long conversations. “If one of them dies, they mourn just like humans mourn loved ones.”

“That is heartbreaking,” I said in agreement. The tip of her nose was red from crying, and again, I had a strong urge to comfort her, give her a hug. I knew how it felt to be overwhelmed by the world. I resisted though. Ellen was a little like a bird herself. I felt if I got too close she’d fly away.

“And the monogamy?”

“I guess if humans could be as simple as lovebirds, there’d be a lot less broken hearts in the world.”

At this, I warmed to her, because she was so like Rose. My best friend believed firmly in monogamy, in having sex with someone you were in love with, and though I disagreed, I could appreciate the romanticism of the concept. I personally thought sex could be amazing so long as there was mutual respect. Love didn’t have to come into it. You could meet someone, have an incredible night, then never see them again. There didn’t always have to be strings.

Ellen turned and went to put the kettle on. She wore a baggy jumper and leggings, her hair piled up in a bun. I took a seat at her table and clasped my hands together.

“What happened today to upset you?” I asked gently.

I had no business asking such a sensitive question. But like I said, I felt I knew her even though I didn’t. She had Elodie’s face and a heart like Rose.

Her cheeks coloured, and she appeared embarrassed. “Nothing. I’m not upset.”

I held her gaze, my eyes telling her I saw through the lie. “When I was a teenager, I caught an ex-girlfriend out on a date with someone I considered a close friend. I was so upset I went home and cried my eyes out. We all do it. Even men.”

Some of her embarrassment faded. “I’ve always hated large groups of people. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

My voice held affection. “You picked the worst city to live in.”

She sniffed and looked up at the ceiling. “When I decided to move here, I thought it would be better, that I could be whoever I wanted, leave the old me behind. Pretty silly since I didn’t change one bit. Most days I don’t even leave the house.” Her eyes flared, like she hadn’t meant to admit that. If she spent most of her time alone in this big house, then her fear and suspicion of me made even more sense.

“Don’t worry. There’s very little you can say that would shock me.”

“You’ve seen it all, huh?” she practically whispered.

“And then some. A lot I wish I could unsee.”

We stared at one another, a moment of understanding passing between us, even though our experiences in life were probably far different. She finished making the tea and set a cup down in front of me.

“I’ve been making a lot of selfish choices lately,” Ellen revealed, then shook her head at her herself. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. You have a pull, do you know that?”

I placed my hands around the cup. “I’ve been told I’m easy to talk to because I don’t judge.”

“Well, whatever it is, I don’t usually talk to strangers, not as…never mind. The point is, I like talking to you, even though I know I shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t you?”

“Because it frightens me. You’re a stranger, too. I shouldn’t have let you in here. It’s reckless.”

“Yes, it is reckless. Luckily, I mean you no harm. Besides, we should always do the things that frighten us, Ellen. Except for jumping off cliffs.”

She gave a tiny laugh, and it pleased me to see her smile, even if it was only a small one. “Indeed. I can’t believe Bernice gave you my ticket. Like I said, you’re a complete stranger. What was she thinking?”

“My friend Rose was with me at the time. She has a very trustworthy face.”

Ellen arched a brow. “Not you?”

“Nope. I have the face of a rapscallion.”

Her tinkering laugh was light and airy, the laugh of someone relieved not to be feeling so anxious anymore. It felt good to put her at ease. “Do you know what, you do! I really don’t know why I let you into my house. I need to get my head checked.”

“Looks perfectly fine to me.”

“You haven’t seen inside it.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a mess in here.”

“I like messes. They’re interesting.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got an answer for everything?”

“It’s my party trick. So, you and Elodie grew up in Devon. What was that like?”

She looked away, took a sip of her tea. I wondered at the shutters that suddenly closed behind her eyes. “It was quiet. Peaceful. Too quiet sometimes.”

“I can understand that. Rose lives most of the year on a remote Scottish Island. When I visit it’s so quiet, I have trouble getting to sleep. I’m used to the constant buzz of city noise.”

She appeared interested by this. “You don’t find it stressful? I mean, I hate too much quiet, but the noise can be just as bad.”

My expression sobered. “I guess I sometimes prefer the noise because then I don’t have to listen to my thoughts.”

She leaned closer, her brown eyes unfathomably big. “What kinds of thoughts?”

I met her gaze levelly. “Bad thoughts.”

A beat of silence fell. We both startled when there was a ding on her doorbell. Ellen stood. “I better go get that.”

She left, and I looked around her kitchen, a feeling of discomfort in my chest. Ellen wasn’t the only one who felt a pull, because I’d revealed more to her than I did to most people. There was an innocence about her, an openness that felt safe.

I heard the front door open and indistinct voices. I got up and went over to admire Ellen’s lovebirds again, smiling to myself. Unlike most, I didn’t judge others for having different beliefs to mine. In fact, I respected people more when they believed in something fiercely. Monogamy was an idea almost as old as my profession. It was something I’d always struggled with personally, and for years I berated myself for not being able to conform, to simply pick a woman and settle down. That sense of shame was something I had to disconnect from if I didn’t want to drown in it.

Now I allowed myself the freedom to live in a way that felt right for me. It was the only way I knew how. Still, the simplicity and innocence of the idea of searching for one true love, for a soul mate, was something that always made my chest ache.

It was like believing in angels. You wanted them to be real so badly, but your common sense wouldn’t allow you to indulge in the folly.

I wished love at first sight, soul mates, and being destined for one single person was real, because it was a romantic, idealistic fairy tale. And I envied Ellen for her ability to believe.

But I, well, I’d had my eyes opened too many times in this life to still believe in fairy tales.

The front door closed, and I went out to check on Ellen. It appeared she’d had a delivery because there were several large, heavy-looking boxes on the floor.

“Need some help?” I asked, and she blew out a breath, hands on her hips.

“Please, if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me carry these upstairs?”

“No trouble at all,” I said and went to pick up a box. I was right, it was heavy. “What’s in here?” I asked as I climbed the stairs.

“Just, um, some new bits of furniture I ordered online,” she said, sounding oddly sheepish.

I left one box on the landing, then went down to get the next. When I’d brought all three boxes upstairs, I turned to go back down, and my gaze caught on something in one of the bedrooms. The door was ajar and carefully placed on a stand on the dressing table was a wig—a red-haired wig to be exact. I frowned, because it was practically identical to Elodie’s hair. I froze on the step, staring at it, mind racing.

“What’s wrong?” Ellen asked, traversing several steps. She frowned as she followed the direction of my gaze. I heard her sharp intake of breath when she realised what I was looking at.

I turned to her in confusion.

“Elodie?”