The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

His face falls. “Okay . . . I deserved that.”

“I didn’t.” I push through tears as I brush past him and keep walking.

“I know, Em,” he calls. “I’m so sorry. That guy . . . that guy was crazy to let you go. I was out of my fucking head.”

I get to my building, and he comes up behind me as I open the door with my key. He slides his arm around my waist from behind and pulls me close. “Please,” he murmurs into my hair. “I love you.”

I close my eyes in pain at the feel of his touch . . . I miss him.

I pull out of his grip. “Don’t touch me,” I spit. “What makes you think you can come back here and say that?”

His eyes search mine. “Because you love me . . . and two wrongs don’t make a right. If you don’t let me make this right between us out

of stubbornness, which is a real possibility . . .” He pauses as he tries to get the wording right. “We will both regret it forever; you know we will.”

I stare at him for a moment as his words roll around in my head. I turn and walk into my building and close the door behind me. He watches me through the glass.

I hit the elevator button, and the doors open straightaway. I dive in and hit the buttons to close the doors as my tears well in my eyes.

Bastard.

I walk out of my building right at eight o’clock in the morning. I haven’t slept much, and I keep seeing Jameson’s sad face when I left him last night. I hate that I care about him. His words kept playing over and over in my head all night. I hate that he said them. I hate that they made sense.

“Because you love me . . . and two wrongs don’t make a right. If you don’t let me make this right between us out of stubbornness, which is a real possibility . . . we will both regret it forever; you know we will.”

God, what a mess.

“Good morning,” I hear a chirpy voice from behind me.

Jameson is standing beside my door in his navy suit, looking all dapper and not at all discouraged like he should be.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He smiles as he takes my gym bag from me and puts it over his shoulder. “Are we catching the bus today?”

I look at him deadpan. “I’m catching the bus. What you’re doing . . . I have no idea.”

“I’m following you around until you agree to have dinner with me.”

“It’s not happening, Jameson.”

“Okay,” he says as he begins to walk to the bus stop. “I’ll just be following you around for forever, then.” I stare at him, and he gives me a slow, sexy smile. “You look beautiful today.”

“Stop it.”

“No.”

I walk to the bus stop with him beside me. I’m staying silent, and he is jabbering.

“Did you run this morning?” he asks. “I did.”

I stare at him.

“I’m actually quite fit at the moment—all this heartache has me running at record speed,” he continues.

That makes two of us . . . I keep my mouth tightly closed. I don’t want him to know that I’ve been angry running too.

We catch the bus. I’m silent, and he’s carrying on like we are long-lost best friends.