“Rebecca and John are across the street. They are lovely too. They got married a few years ago.”

“What do they do?”

“John is a surgeon, and Rebecca is a teacher.”

“Sounds great.” I smile, grateful for the intel. “Thanks for the rundown.”

“I do hope you like scones, dear,” Carol says as she walks down the front steps. I walk with her as we talk.

“I do. Thank you so much.” I peek under the tea towel and see steam rising. “Oh, they’re still hot.” I smile in surprise as we arrive at my mailbox.

“No store-bought rubbish in my house, dear. I bet you’re a good cook too.”

“Sure am,” I lie with a fake smile. Can’t cook for shit, Carol, but whatever.

A black Range Rover pulls onto the street. “Here’s Henley home now,” Carol says.

Fuck.

He drives in and waves and parks in his driveway. His house is big and fancy looking.

He gets out of the car and waves. “Hi, Carol.” He begins to walk into the house. “Lovely day.” He walks toward his front door and stops on the spot.

He just realized who I am.

He turns back to us and frowns as his eyes lock on mine.

Shit.

“Come and meet our new neighbor,” Carol calls.

He twists his lips as if angered and walks over with his hands in his fancy suit pockets. “We meet again.”

Hearing his familiar sexy voice snaps the sanity band in my brain, and I just want to lash out and be a bitch.

“Sorry?” I smile sweetly as I pretend to forget him. I hold out my hand to shake his. “I’m Juliet. Nice to meet you.”

He narrows his eyes in confusion as he shakes my hand. “Henley James.”

“Juliet just moved in; I’ve made her some scones.”

Henley’s eyes stay fixed on mine, his face emotionless. “The best scones in the land, Carol.”

Carol lets out an overexaggerated giggle. “Oh, Henley, you tease me so.”

I inwardly roll my eyes as it becomes blazingly clear that Carol is one of those women who is in love with him.

“The owners must be renting this house out while they get a permit approved for the new build,” Henley says.

You wish.

“No, Harry,” I reply.

“Henley,” he corrects me, unimpressed.

“I bought it.”

“What?” He frowns. “What do you mean, you bought it?”

He means, How could I afford a house on this street? Judgy prick. I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “What else could I mean, Harry? I bought the house.”

“Henley,” he spits through gritted teeth. “Don’t call me Harry again.” His eyes hold mine, and it’s really hard not to burst out laughing. This forgetting-him plan is a hoot.

God, I’m brilliant.

“Nice to meet you,” he lies before storming off. “Goodbye, Carol,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Bye,” Carol calls. “I’ll make you some scones on Sunday, Henley.”

“Not necessary.” He waves his hand in the air and keeps walking.

Carol stares after him, perplexed. “He must be very busy. He’s usually so warm and welcoming; he’s never abrasive like that.” She raises her eyebrows as she contemplates his reaction to me.

Only friendly on first dates when he wants to get his dick wet . . . asshole.

I’m infuriated just by seeing him again.

“Thanks for the scones.” I smile. “It was lovely to meet you. I have to get going.”

“Goodbye, Juliet.”

I wave and walk back into my house and feel a little proud of myself as I close the door.

That went okay. I’ll probably never run into him again. Maybe this won’t be the disaster I thought it was going to be.

An hour later, I fold a T-shirt and throw it into Mom’s suitcase as it lies on her bed. “Now remember,” I tell her as I pack her things, “if anyone tries to grab you or you feel unsafe, call the tour guide immediately.”

“I know.”

“And if Dad gets too chatty with people, don’t let him tell them all his details. You know he’s an oversharer, and you can’t trust everyone that you meet overseas. It isn’t the same as home, Mom.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Mom rolls her eyes at my lecturing.

“And if Dad’s ankle gives him trouble, it’s okay to have a few rest days at the hotel.”

“Oh, Juliet, stop worrying.” She sighs.

I exhale heavily. With all the house stuff I’ve had going on, it’s only just hitting me that my parents are traveling alone for the first time overseas. It’s a little terrifying. “If anything medical happens, just call me, and I’m on the first plane.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Someone’s at the door,” my dad calls from the bathroom.

“Who would that be?” Mom asks.

“I think it’s the delivery man.” I throw the sweater into the case and bound down the stairs. I open the door to see Henley. “Oh,” I stammer, taken aback. “Henry.”

He stares at me deadpan.

“Yes?”

“If you call me by the wrong name again, there will be hell to pay.”

“Sorry.” Unable to help it, I smile. “Forgive me, but what was your name again?”

“You actually don’t remember me?”

I wince as I act worried. “I’m so sorry, should I?”

He twists his lips, unimpressed.

“When did we meet?” I shrug. “Was it at work? I’m a nurse, so I meet a lot of people, and I’m terrible with faces.”

He leans in. “I don’t know what you are playing at by pretending not to know me,” he whispers angrily, “but I do not appreciate you bombarding your way into my street.”

“Your street?”

“That’s right.” His jaw tics as he glares at me.

“I mean, I do know the cul-de-sac is called Kingston Lane, but I didn’t realize it had its very own king. How lucky we are.”

“You are not funny,” he snaps.

I so am.

“Please tell me what your problem is?” I ask impatiently.

“I think you know.”

“I don’t. You keep saying we met, but I have no idea where. So unless you are willing to tell me what the issue is, we have nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t shit me,” he sneers. “I know you remember me. Don’t play dumb.”

I feel my temper rise. This man is an infuriating fucking pig.

“I’m not sure where we know each other from, but it has become very clear why I’ve chosen to forget you. Still practicing being an asshole, are you?”

“Not practicing.” His furious eyes hold mine. “Perfected.”

Good comeback.

“What do you want? Do you want me to congratulate you on becoming a perfected asshole?” I whisper angrily.

“I want you to move, that’s what I want. Our street does not need someone like you living here.”

“Tough shit, King Henley the Fucking Great, I’m not moving, and nobody judges me but me, so stay out of my way.”

His eyes bulge. “You stay out of my way.”

“No prize for seconds, dickhead. Don’t copy my comeback.”

“I swear to fucking god . . . ,” he whispers angrily.

“Juliet.” My father’s voice rings out as the screen door opens. “Who is your friend?”

Crap.

Henley and I step back from each other. “Dad, this is my neighbor. He just stopped by to say hi.”

This is awkward. I told my parents about my letdown of a date back then when it happened. And although I never told them his name, if Henley asks where my fiancé is, I’m screwed.

“Dad, meet Henley.” I gesture to Henley. “Henley, meet my dad; Henley was just leaving,” I blurt out in a rush.

Oh my god, leave.

Leave now.

“Hello.” Dad smiles as he shakes his hand.

Henley fakes a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Beautiful place you live in,” Dad replies. “It’s like heaven here.”

Henley’s eyes flick to me as if he’s about to say something. “It was—is,” Henley corrects himself.

“We’re going to Europe tomorrow, the missus and I. Excited is an understatement,” Dad continues.

“How long for?” Henley asks.

“Four months.”