The Casanova (The Miles High Club 3)

Elliot Miles is here this morning, and I’m glad. Because he’s easier to hate.

“When will you be back?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” he says as he pulls his jacket over his shoulders.

He can’t even look at me.

He pats his trouser pockets as he checks he has everything; I should ask him if I can have my heart back before he leaves. He’s had it in his possession since the first night we spent together, unashamedly so.

His eyes find me across the room and I force a smile. “Have a nice trip.”

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“But you will.”

We stare at each other and eventually, as if making an internal decision, he closes his eyes. “Goodbye, Kate,” he murmurs.

“Goodbye, Elliot.”

He walks over to me and takes my face in his hands and kisses me, and this time it’s his face that screws up against mine. He knows, he knows that if he does this then we are done.

Without one word, he turns and walks out, and the door clicks quietly behind him.

I inhale with a shaky breath.

He went anyway.

Chapter 23

ELLIOT

The rain comes down heavy and hard, and I walk on to the plane like it’s a galley.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Miles.” The pilot smiles.

“Hello.” I shake out my umbrella and fold it away.

“We are scheduled to take off in fifteen minutes, sir. I trust you’ll have a pleasant trip.”

“Thank you.” I walk through the plane and take my usual seat.

Just fucking go, already.

My phone lets off a ding and I glance at it. Kate.

I open up the message and frown.

It’s a song, “Never Enough” by Loren Allred.

Fuck.

I drag my hand down my face and eventually, curiosity gets the better of me and I put my headphones on and hit play.

It’s a slow song, of love and loss.

I put my head back against the headrest and exhale heavily; I want this over with.

Just fucking go already.

“Mr. Miles.” The waiter smiles. “We’ve been expecting you, sir. Miss Boucher is waiting.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

“The private dining room is this way.” I follow him through to the glass atrium; there are fairy lights strewn across the top of the glass and the table is candlelit. I see her sitting alone at a table for two by the fire.

She looks up, and our eyes meet.

“Hello.” She smiles softly.

My heart flips in my chest.

She’s absolutely breathtaking . . .

“Hello.” I frown—she makes me nervous—and my stomach flutters. “Sorry I’m late.”

She smiles up at me with her big eyes. “Better late than never.”

KATE

I sit at the window seat and stare out over the road as the rain comes down.

Even the weather is miserable. Like a dark heavy blanket of sadness.

I glance at my watch, Elliot will be in France now.

I get a vision of the two of them sitting in a romantic location, staring into each other’s eyes.

I’m in a literal hell.

“Is everything alright with your meal, ma’am?” the waiter interrupts me.

“Oh.” I look down to see my untouched cold dinner. “Yes, I’m sorry . . . I’m . . .” I pick up my fork. “A little distracted.”

“Perhaps some wine?” The waiter smiles hopefully.

“Yes.” I nod. “That would be lovely.”

He raises his eyebrow as he waits for something.

“What is it?” I ask.

“What wine would you like?”

“Oh.” I shake my head, embarrassed. “Surprise me.”

“Very well.” He disappears into the kitchen and I take a forkful of pasta into my mouth.

Ugh, my stomach rolls and I clench my teeth to stop the gag reflex.

I make myself swallow; food is the very last thing I can handle tonight.

I don’t even want to go home to my roommates, because then I have to pretend that everything is okay . . . or tell another lie, or worse still, tell them the sordid truth.

Neither of the tasks I feel capable of while I’m this weak.

I’ll just wait until everyone goes to bed, it’s easier that way.

It’s 9 p.m. and . . . in a few hours, I will know.

Elliot will either call me . . . or he won’t.

I know he will . . . he loves me, I know he does and I believe in us. He will call me.

He has to.

I’m not in this alone. I haven’t imagined this entire thing. We do have something real.

I know we do.

I can’t be this gullible.

I force another mouthful in and my stomach rolls and I heave.

I think I’m going to throw up.

One a.m.

I walk up my street toward my house in the rain. With two bottles of wine under my belt, I should be happy.

What I am is . . . devastated.

He’s with her.

I take out my phone and check it for the ten thousandth time tonight.

“Call me,” I whisper angrily. “You fucking call me, goddamn it.”

I screw up my face in tears. Why is this happening? What on earth did I ever do to deserve such fucking shit in my life? I lost my parents, my sister is the devil, and now the man that I love . . . doesn’t even love me back.