The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

Tristan is limping me through work at the moment, well aware of my state of mind.

The meeting continues, and I sip my water to try and bring my mind back to where it needs to be. This isn’t good enough, Jameson.

Focus.

I walk onto the plane.

“Good evening, Mr. Miles. Your seat is here, sir. 1A.”

“Thank you.” I fall into the seat in the front row of first class.

The plane slowly boards, and I stare out the window. Flying never used to bother me. I hate it now.

I hate that it reminds me of her . . . of how we met. Of the night we had together.

Of how badly things turned out in the end.

With my elbow leaning on the armrest, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I just want to get there and go to my hotel and sleep. I’m tired and not in the mood for this shit.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Miles?”

“Scotch, please.”

An elderly man takes the seat next to me. He nods. “Hello.”

“Hi.” I smile. I turn my attention out the window to the baggage crew down on the tarmac, all doing their job and rushing around doing the safety checks.

They’re driving on carts, flashing lights, and waving flags.

I wouldn’t even care if the plane fucking crashed.

Burning in hell would be better than this.

Four days later

I smile at Alan as he stands next to the limo at the airport. “Hello, sir. Did you have a nice trip??

??

“It was fine; thank you.” I smile as I get into the back seat.

“Would you like to do the normal route, sir?” he asks through the door.

“Yes, please.”

He smiles. “Very well.” He shuts the door, and moments later, the car pulls out into the traffic.

Half an hour later, he slows down as we drive past Emily’s apartment, and I peer through the window.

Is she there?

We do this every night on the way home—my own stupid way of saying good night to her . . . if I don’t, I end up running back here later.

Who am I kidding? I run back here most nights anyway. I hold my breath as we drive past, hoping to catch a glimpse of her . . . I’ve never seen her once.

My heart drops; she’s not here.

I look back through the back window as we disappear down the street.