The Stopover (The Miles High Club 1)

Things are going well . . . for the first time in a long time, I feel myself become a little excited for what’s to come.

Let’s see what happens.

I stare at the ceiling in the darkness from my bed. It’s midnight. My old bedroom brings a surprising comfort that I didn’t know I needed.

It’s great being here with my family, but New York seems so very far away.

I didn’t call Jameson like I said I would; in fact I haven’t spoken to him all night.

Being here with people who love me makes me realize how fragile I’ve been. I was completely alone and heartbroken in New York. I mean sure, I had Molly and Aaron, but I’ve known them all of three months. It’s not the same as having family around, the ones who will stand by your side through thick and thin.

I don’t know where I’m going with Jameson, only that I didn’t want to speak to him tonight. Why?

Maybe I’m never going to let go of this hurt; maybe he’s done irreversible damage.

Maybe I’m too good for him and his shit . . . there’s no maybe in that sentence—I know I am.

My phone vibrates on the side table, and I frown as I see the letter J light up.

I exhale heavily and answer, “Hello.”

“Hi.” He pauses for a moment. “You weren’t calling me tonight?”

“I got distracted.”

Silence down the phone. Eventually he speaks. “Em.”

“Yes.”

“Did you go there to get away from me?”

I roll my eyes in frustration. “No, Jameson,” I whisper angrily. “Why is everything about you? I booked this trip two weeks ago.”

“Okay, I just asked. Jesus. Why are you so angry?”

Tears form in my eyes. “You really have to ask?”

“You tell me why.”

Suddenly a volcano that I didn’t even know was there erupts inside of me. “Because I’m in love with a selfish fucking asshole, and I don’t know how to turn it off, and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you walk away again,” I blurt out in a rush.

He stays silent.

“And the way you just march back in and demand my forgiveness pisses me off.”

He listens.

“And you could have any woman in the world; they are lining up for you. So why are you putting me through this shit? I don’t want the heartache, Jameson.”

“Is that what you think? That I want any woman in the world?”

Tears roll down my face, and I swipe them away angrily. “I have no idea what you want anymore, Jameson.”

“Cut the fucking shit, Emily,” he snaps. “You listen, and you listen good. I don’t want anyone else. I’ve been promiscuous since I was eighteen years old. I’ve slept with a lot of women . . . and I mean a lot of women. You are the only person I have ever had this connection with. The only woman I have loved like this. So don’t you dare throw that shit at me about wanting someone else. Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?”

“Your masseuse,” I snap.

“Was before I fucking met you,” he growls. I can hear the anger in his voice. “If you don’t want me, then fine, I’ll leave. But don’t let me hold out and try desperately to make things work when you’re obviously not going to let me in.”