I stare out the window. The rain is falling lightly, the gray sky casting above us. What happened back there terrifies me. I don’t think of myself as an overly anxious person, but the anxiety cripples me with people demanding questions about my personal life, and my inability to walk without being scrutinized. Even in the midst of it all, I see their judgment.
Wesley Rich. Movie star.
In a relationship with this ugly girl.
She’s nothing like Emerson Chase.
Look at the way she’s dressed, and her hair. Where did he find her?
The muscles in my leg tighten, this urge to get off the plane becomes more and more desperate. I take deep breaths, holding back the nausea and cries that so desperately want to escape. We still have some time until we take off. I frantically search for my cell in my purse where I find it fallen to the bottom amongst my other possessions.
I see Wesley’s texts, one after another, but I don’t have the strength to open them. I’m overwhelmed by us, and what this relationship is doing to me. I want to hear his voice, and despite my drunken stupor last night, I recall us exchanging words that can’t be retracted, at least, not in my eyes.
And I know myself well enough to know that his voice, alone, will lure me into his sinful ways. He will tell me this is nothing. I don’t have to worry and fuck ’em. He doesn’t care, so why should I?
Without realizing my hands are shaking, I dial Mama’s number, desperate to speak to her and seek the reassurance I need at this moment. The cell rings, and rings, until it hangs up on its accord.
I try again, closing my eyes and praying she will pick up. Nothing.
Fighting back the tears, I send Wesley a text. It’s all I have to say at this moment.
Me: I can’t do this. It’s not me. I’m sorry.
My cell is hidden away in my purse, switched to airplane mode and out of sight, out of mind. The plane begins to fill with passengers, some walking past me without interest and some watching me followed by whispers to the person next to them. The announcement is made for all passengers to take a seat. Minutes later, Emerson sits down beside me without saying a single word.
After the safety presentation, the engine roars as we take off and head to the sky.
Emerson has organized for me to sit at the window so I can experience the city from above. It’s beautiful—another piece of the world that I wouldn’t have experienced had I not taken this job with Emerson. Resting my head against the chair, I think about all the things I have done in the past month that have both terrified and excited me at the same time.
And they all lead back to Wesley.
“How long?” Emerson asks, keeping her voice low.
“Only three weeks.”
“Three weeks with Wesley Rich is enough to send anyone over the edge.”
She isn’t telling me anything I haven’t experienced. Though part of me questions how much she will truly understand. Yes, they had a relationship, but it was so tainted that she saw nothing but black. Or perhaps, I’m living a lie behind my set of rose-colored glasses.
“I d-don’t understand…” She stumbles on her words. “Why on earth would you want to be with him?”
I’m slightly offended. “Emerson, you dated him once upon a time. In fact, you were engaged to him. You were willing to spend the rest of your life with Wesley. I’m sure you still remember something about him that kept you there.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Well, that’s your own opinion.”
I hate arguing with her. I respect her as my boss and a friend but the jealousy, it gets a hold of me and knowing that she once had something with Wesley becomes my focus, again.
“It’s just that Wesley is so infuriating. You deserve better than him.”
“What if he deserves better than me?”
“Not possible. Do you even know what he did to me? Not only did he go to Amsterdam and get high while sleeping with someone… plural. He cheated on me with multiple girls in some gang-bang hurrah. He’s not good for you.”
I hold back the tears that stem from anger, not hurt. Emerson can’t possibly understand what Wesley and I have. Nobody can. I want to tell everyone, I love him and it’s stupid, right? After three weeks, how can I be so in love with a man who I know isn’t good for me? Everyone has an opinion on Wesley, and majority rules that he’s nothing but a bad boy.
“I think I can decide what’s good for me. I don’t expect you to understand. You see Wesley the way you want to see him. It’s different with him and me. He’s different when he’s with me.”