The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(58)

“Change of plans.”

He circles me as he looks me up and down. “Fuck . . . look at you.”

“What about me?” I smile.

“Tanned.”

I put my hands on my hips proudly.

“You’ve put on weight.”

“Fuck off, I have.”

He sits back at his desk, his eyes not leaving me for a minute, and he picks up his office phone. “Get in here. I have a surprise for you.”

I knew the three of my brothers were all in New York. There’s a board meeting at nine o’clock, and attendance by all is compulsory.

I walk to the bar and eye the assortment of all the alcohol I haven’t been able to afford. “Is it too early?” I ask.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he replies casually.

I pour myself a scotch and hold up the bottle. He smirks with a subtle shake of his head. “I’ll wait till it’s five here.”

“Still boring, I see.” I sip my drink and smile as it burns all the way down. “Ahh.” I hold the glass up and stare at the amber liquid. “That’s the stuff.”

The door bursts open, and Tristan and Elliot come into view. They both laugh out loud and rush me with a hug. Elliot holds me a little longer than he should. “Let go of me, you creepy fucker.” I smile as I pull out of his arms.

He punches me hard. “Thank god that’s over.”

“Miss me?” I ask.

“No. Just sick of doing all your work.”

His eyes linger affectionately on my face, and I pull him into another hug. “I missed you.”

“London fucking sucks without you there.”

“Tell me everything,” Tristan says as he pours three glasses of scotch.

Jameson winces. “It’s eight thirty in the morning.”

“Stop being fucking boring,” Tristan huffs as he passes their glasses out. He holds his in the air to propose a toast, and we all raise ours too. “Together.”

My eyes well with tears. Fuck. I really missed them.

This is where I belong, with my brothers, running our company.

“Together,” we all repeat.

“So . . .” Tristan smiles. “Tell us everything. What’s been happening with gorillas in the mist?”

I burst out laughing. “Fucking hell, that was the night from hell, and to top it off, the witch stole my credit card.”

They all chuckle.

“The taxi driver.” Jameson smirks. “You. A taxi driver. That will do me . . . that’s the best fucking story I ever heard in my life. And when that dude vomited in the car, and then you vomited in sympathy.”

“Oh no.” They all groan.

“Don’t remind me.” I wince.

“When you were a bear and got punched in the nuts.”

The three of them burst out laughing as they imagine it.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.” I roll my eyes. “I can still taste blood.”

They laugh harder, and I drain my glass. “We’ve got to get moving. Meeting in ten minutes. Can we sign the trust documents tomorrow? What are we buying now?”

“A skyscraper on Fifth. I’ll call the lawyer and make an appointment. You all around tomorrow?”

“Yes, yeah, sounds good,” they all reply.

“Dinner and drinks tonight?” I ask.

“You’re on.” Tristan slaps me on the back, Elliot messes up my hair, and Jameson gives me a knowing smile. “I’m glad you’re home. No more cockamamie ideas.”

“I know.” I smile. “Good to be home.” We begin to walk to the boardroom.

Only it wasn’t cockamamie; it was great. Probably the greatest time of my life.

I was shown a different way of living, one where it was okay to be whoever I am.

No expectations, no deadlines . . . just me . . . and her.

Sadness twinges, and my face falls. Elliot catches it and frowns. “What’s wrong?” he whispers as we walk.

“Nothing.”

His eyes hold mine.

“Drop it.” I brush past him.

I’m not in the mood for his psychobabble bullshit.





HAYDEN

“You slept with him?” Bernadette shrieks.

“No.” I brush past her into the shower. The girls are back from Portugal unexpectedly. Their backpackers’ hostel got closed down because there was an electrical fault and it had no power. They couldn’t get in anywhere so came back here.

“Then why did he leave?” She follows me.

“He had to sign something at home,” I reply.

“Did you kiss him?”

I hesitate.

“You did.” She gasps. “I knew it.”

“He’s not coming back. You know that, don’t you,” Kimberly says as she turns on the shower in her stall.

“He’ll be back,” I snap as I put my head under the water.

“What makes you so sure?” Bernadette calls.

“Because . . . I know him.”

“Did you know he was going to leave before you kissed him?”

“I knew he was going to freak out, if that’s what you mean.”

“Then why did you kiss him?” she demands. She’s angry that we kissed. She adores Christopher. In her mind, I’ve pushed him away.