Apparently in her league.
England; a place much like America in the least American way possible. Like America, England has it's issues with politics, it's big cities, coffee franchises and fast food restaurants. In these ways, to Piper, it felt very familiar. In other ways, it did not. For example, the rain, of which England had a lot. And moreover the capacity of the British to complain about the rain. Further, their capacity to complain about any variation on the weather; sunshine, snow, wind, fog, hail - it didn't really matter, the English weren't happy about it. Another thing that felt very strange to Piper was the politeness of the English, a refreshing change after the pointedness of Americans, however it became clear that the politeness in abundance was met equally with an abundance of passive-aggressive tendencies.
Despite the quirkiness of the country, Piper enjoyed being by the sea and the busy-ness of Brighton and she liked the routines she had developed. She had started writing again for the first time in nearly half a decade and it felt good. Brighton was an easy place to feel inspired. Some days she'd potter about drawing sketches of particular buildings she wanted to write into scenes later, others she'd perch on the train station platform letting passersby assume she was waiting for a train as she munched on her bagel and used the hustle and bustle to create a million different characters. And some days she would waste time in Alex's original store, the first of many, sipping coffee or eating cake, just enjoying the sound of British voices chatting, watching people come and go with their kids and dogs completely absorbed in family life. These were the moments she would find herself gazing longingly at the cafe's occupants and have to pull herself away to the rain against the store front windows or the noises the till made as orders were rung through.
Her favourite part of her new routine was by far the beginning and the end of each day however. In the evening she would work her way home through Brighton's winding North Laine's as the market sellers packed away and tourists made their way up the slopes toward parked cars or trains home. She would pass them on their way up as she made her way down to the stony beach and wander along the promenade leisurely, pulling her coat about her on the windier days and sliding her sun glasses up her nose on the days that were nice. She'd loop back up to pass the unmissable and distinctive Brighton dome and she'd cross through parks with fountains and picnic goers making the most of the day and feeding the sea gulls, and then she'd let herself into number two, the bit of England that reminded her most of America, her little bit of England. Hers and Alex's little bit of England.
Their brownstone. Three stories (and a basement) of white marble with a small balcony off of the second floor; black wrought iron fences that lined the front garden along with a gate; the four small steps that led up to the door - Piper loved every inch of it. And so did Alex. Far from what she had been used to, Alex found No. 2 refreshing; after a decade of the emptiness she felt in her penthouse the brownstone provided a warmth and homeliness that she had craved. Between them Alex and Piper had made the house theirs well and truly in the short time they had owned it and given it a delightfully cluttered feel amidst the family photos and books (shelves upon shelves of books).
Evening had become one of Piper's favourite parts of each day after they had moved into No. 2; when Piper had finally put an end to living out of her suitcase and they had made the risky and certain decision to cut to the chase and get a place together. The pair made the decision after deliberating that they had already wasted too much of their lives apart to take things slowly when they had finally reconnected. Evening was the time of day when Piper got to turn the key in the lock and call softly into the house, "Honey, I'm home.", for no other reason than that it made her feel like she was in a sitcom. It was when she exchanged her converses for slipper boots and when she tucked her pyjamas trousers into aforementioned slipper boots as she made herself and Alex a cup of tea. Evening was the time of day when they curled up on the sofa together to talk about how their days had been individually and to tell each other how glad they were to be spending the evening together, to reassure the other that they had been missed and sometimes if they didn't get lost in conversation, they'd read quietly together or watch some bad reality TV.
Better than Evening was Night. Night was when Alex would slip into bed next to her and open her arms patiently awaiting a cuddle. Night was when Piper felt safest and comfiest and felt as though there was no wrong in the world. Night was for kisses and sleepily giggling at one another. Night was for feeling like teenagers again and for no regrets. Night was best.
Morning was another lovely part of the day though it ended with Piper's least favourite part. Morning consisted of another cup of tea, (this one made by Alex however, who was always up first for her morning run and shower), and of breakfast on the balcony on nice days or in the conservatory on days that weren't. It consisted of the most "I love you's" and "I miss you's" and the only "Good-bye" they had to do in each day.
** 4 months previously **
"Piper. You're actually here. In England. With me." Alex grinned the grin that had plastered her face when Piper had met her in high school. They met eyes and everything in Piper's world settled, it suddenly felt right and all the nerves preceding that specific moment dissipated. She held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers and Alex laughed, acknowledging the detail she had already noticed, or she supposed the lack of detail therein. "Sorry, this seems like a real moment but if the pizza gets cold I don't get paid so um - someone ordered pizza?" Alex laughed again, not only had she failed to invite Piper in from the doorway she had also completely forgotten about the pizza she had ordered and subsequently, unintentionally, the poor boy delivering the pizza who stood awkwardly surveying the scene in front of him, probably sincerely doubting that he was getting a tip. "Absolutely, it was me. How much do I owe you? Piper, enter the apartment would you?" Piper rolled her eyes and she pushed her suitcase into the flat "Finally, I've only been stood there for hourssssss." Alex tipped the guy generously, "She's literally been there all of five minutes, I promise I didn't make her wait out here." It was the pizza guys turn to laugh, "Sure. Enjoy you're evening."