Billion Dollar Stranger - Page 3
“No way,” she squeals. “How come?”
“Boring business,” I say. “It’s only a flying visit.”
“Are you sure? Can you extend your return flight and come see us? We’d love to have you.”
“I can’t this time, sorry. But I’ll be back. I have another trip coming up, to Rhode Island.”
“Well, I could definitely make it to see you that time. Can you email me the dates and I’ll plan it in? Ryan’s schedule is so crazy right now and I’ll need him to take on collecting Abbey.”
“Is he working too much?”
“I know that he loves it, and he built his business from scratch. It’s his baby in a way, but I wish he’d take just a little more downtime. He’s had a few trips recently, and Abbey has really missed him.”
“She’s gotten so big,” I say, remembering one of the photos where my sweet little cousin-once-removed is grinning at the camera with cake frosting around her mouth.
“She has. I swear, I’ve never been as tired, but each day with her is such a blessing.”
“You should get some help,” I say. Jessie’s husband Ryan is a seriously successful businessman. The kind of rich where it’s possible to buy islands for fun.
“I know. Ryan says the same thing, but I love doing everything for her. These years will pass fast, and I don’t want to miss a second.”
“That’s sweet,” I say, loving the fact that Ryan’s wealth hasn’t changed Jessie in the slightest. She’s still exactly the same down-to-earth, humble person she was before she met him. I wish we could spend more time together, but the huge ocean between us is such a big barrier.
“So, you’ll definitely send me the dates,” she says. “I don’t want to miss you again.”
“I will.”
“You’re okay? You know…since…” She doesn’t mention Jonathan’s name, but she doesn’t have to.
“Yeah. I’m good. Leaving the past in the past.” It’s easy to say but much harder to achieve in reality. But isn’t that what we do? We pretend that everything is fine on the outside. We wear a mask, but inside, we still carry all the scars.
“That’s good. You know you can always talk to me. I’m pretty experienced when it comes to heartache.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Yeah. Thanks, Jess. I will.”
Abbey starts to cry in the background, and Jessie makes her excuses.
After we’ve said our goodbyes, I pace the room, feeling trapped by the confines of its papered walls. It’s too early to sleep, and if I sit here, I know I’ll just get lost in thoughts that will make me feel blue.
I need to go somewhere where I’ll be surrounded by people. I need a distraction, and I need a drink.
Most of all, I need to shrug off my blues before tomorrow. Sales meetings aren’t great places for emotions. I need to be firing on all cylinders with a smile as bright as Brandy the receptionist’s.
The bar downstairs seems like the perfect destination.3
NICOLEIt’s 5 pm Atlanta time as I sit in the almost deserted hotel bar, nursing an essential gin and tonic, stifling a jet-lagged yawn. I’m still on London time, trying to relax in a booth that has a view of the door and through into the lobby. I pick up a newspaper for entertainment, but nothing grabs my attention.
I’m tired enough to sleep, but I know that if I turn in this early, I’ll end up awake in the middle of the night with only the TV and the mini bar for company. Somehow, drinking in public seems less tragic than sipping tiny bottles in the privacy of my room.
There are three other people in the bar: the barman, who smiled a little too broadly when I approached to order my drink, and two disheveled looking men with worn-out briefcases engaged in an in-depth discussion. With the opportunities for people watching so limited, I return to my phone. After a couple of minutes of idle browsing, I look around and find myself gazing directly into the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen.
The man they belong to is walking from the bar toward a table near mine, holding a short glass of amber-colored liquid, but as our eyes connect, he pauses momentarily and then continues in my direction. His gaze stays fixed to mine until he’s standing over me, his impressive, tall frame casting me in shadow.
“Are you alone?” he asks.
Alone. It’s a word I feel from my tiny toes to the tips of my straight brown hair. It has been that way for so long. Even when I was with Jonathan, I never felt as though he truly knew me. There was always a part of me that felt untouched and unnoticed. I don’t this tell this stranger any of that, though. “Yes.” One small word said more breathlessly that I feel comfortable with. I should say something else, something to break the tension, but the feeling of his eyes on me is so intense that I momentarily lose the ability to think.
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