All I ask | Chris Evans

3

The idea came to me as I was cooking. I hadn't been back to England in years and now couldn't be a more perfect time to go. Maybe my intensions were different, I was some what running away. But after all this shit, I deserve it. In England there wasn't Chris, or Seb, or Jess. Me and Jess had briefly spoken about it. It's not exactly like we could be on bad terms, we owned a speakeasy together. But there wasn't a lot keeping me in New York at the moment. I hadn't seen my Grandma in years, unless you count facetimes, but she didn't really like using the phone.

I let the idea sit with me for a week before deciding that its what I needed. I gave my dad a ring the same night.

"Hi Dad" I said as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Hiya Poppet, you okay?" He questioned.

"Yeah I'm all good. How are you?"

"Not too shabby. What can I do for you Poppet?" I hesitated in telling him, purely because I didn't really want him to ask why I wanted to leave.

"I think I'm going to go to England for a while. Maybe visit Grandma, its been a few years" I replied quietly.

"I think that's a good idea" he answered almost instantly, "I think it will do you the world of good"

"Yeah me too. I don't want it to feel like I'm running away though" I confessed.

"Your not running away. Your having a break. You are so extremely strong Olivia and you get that from your mother. All the shit that has happened to you this past year and a half has been so tough, I don't know how you have managed to cope with it. You are honestly one of the most admirable people I have ever met, and I've met a hell of a lot of people, your mum would be so incredibly proud of you. If you need to go, then you need to go and don't you let anyone say anything about it or they can answer to me" he ranted, his protective dad instincts kicking in. I began to tear up at the words. I'd grown up with these stories of how amazing and badass my mum was, and being compared to her was always the highest paid compliment in our household.

"Thank you" I managed to choke out.

The next few days consisted of sorting shit out. I phoned my Grandma to let her know I was coming across the pond. I phoned Jess to let her know I was going, and I didn't know how long I was going to be. I felt a bit guilty, I was a bad work partner for constantly being away, but I never particularly felt needed there. Yes I put money into the establishment and worked fucking hard to get to where we are, but Jess managed it on her own all the time.

I booked a flight to Gatwick Airport, which was roughly about half an hour drive from where my Grandma lived in Brighton. I didn't book a return flight because I didn't know when I wanted to come back, when I would be ready to come back. I phoned Scott after I booked my ticket, letting him know my plan. He wasn't too excited that I was leaving the country but he understood why and supported my decision. I deliberately booked the flight from Boston Logan airport so I could stay with my dad a couple days prior to leaving.

I felt somewhat relieved at the fact everything was sorted and that I didn't have to stay much longer, I could get a much needed break from everything and everyone.

Whilst making myself a tea, my phone pinged with a new message. "I heard your flying over the pond next week, can I see you tonight?"
I knew it would of been Scott who told him, it was only a matter of time. I shot back a "yeah, come over whenever" and switched it off. Dreading the next conversation we were going to have.