My Last Resolution(9)

“It is.”

I look down at his lap and hold back a gasp. “You know, for a lawyer, you’re pretty damn dumb when it comes to charge-worthy offenses.”

“Asking questions isn’t a crime.”

“Sexual harassment is.”

“It’s not harassment if the victim enjoys it.”

I have nothing to say to that. My panties have been wet since he first touched my bracelet; they were soaked the second he told me my lips were f**kable.

“Since you’d rather talk about drier things,” he says with a smirk, “why did you and your boyfriend break up?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We have another hour and you’ll never see me again. I’m also a really good listener.”

I sigh. It might be good to tell someone else what happened.

My family is “Team Adrian” and they never believe me when I tell them how horrible he is—only David. And I’m pretty sure now that he knows that we’re over, he won’t want to hear too much more about him.

“I’ll tell you,” I say, “but you have to promise not to interject with any more of your...Your comments.”

“I won’t.” He looks sincere.

“Okay, well...The first couple years were pretty good—they were exciting and I really liked him, but after we graduated from college things changed...”

“How so?”

“He became a lot more selfish, and he didn’t do little things for me like he used to. No random dates, no telling me I’m pretty just because, nothing.”

“I paid his way through law school and he was supposed to pay my way through journalism school once he finished. But instead of doing that, he changed his mind and decided that it didn’t make sense for me to go to journalism school...According to him, we needed to focus on building a life together, and he needed to focus on making partner at his firm as quickly as possible so he could make even more money. After that, ‘if I still wanted to go to pointless writing classes’ he said he’d pay for it...My credit is beyond shot right now, so I couldn’t get a loan for school if I wanted to, and—” I stop. Saying these words aloud makes my heart ache.

“I’m sorry...”

Shrugging, I lean back in my chair. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “It’s mine...”

All those years. All. Those. Years.

I was such a fool.

I’d wake up at the crack of dawn to catch a bus downtown, to wait tables at a premier hotel bistro all morning. Then, with back-aches that never seemed to go away, I’d walk eight blocks to a dental office where I filed papers from noon until close. After that—usually around six or seven, I’d take a final bus to a private airport and lug lost luggage across the terminal.

I never complained to Adrian about working those three jobs. I never told him how badly my body ached day after day—partly because I was stupid in love, partly because I knew this was only “temporary.”

I knew the second he graduated from law school, the second he landed a job, that he would return the favor and help me pursue my dreams.

I was such a f**king idiot...

Blake hands me his other gin and tonic, and I happily toss it back.

“I would have turned on my filter if you had mentioned it was such a bad break up...” he says.

“So you do have a filter?”

“Yes.” He pulls the handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabs my eyes with it. “It’s just hard to turn off when I see someone I’m highly attracted to.”

“I’m sure that happens quite often.”

“This is the first time in years.”

I blush and look away from him, refusing to let myself believe that over the last twenty minutes he’s made my body react so easily, that he’s had this much of an effect on me at all; I’ve never felt this type of heated attraction with Adrian. Ever.

Now, I honestly want him to get my attention again, to strike up another conversation, but he doesn’t.

For the rest of the flight, he leaves me alone.

Chapter 3

“Ma’am? Ma’am?” A flight attendant is tapping me on my shoulder, shaking me out of my sleep. “We need to clear the plane for cleaning.”

I sit up, realizing that the plane has long landed and I’m the last one on board.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I notice a small piece of paper on my thigh. I flip it over and read the small scribbled note. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Paris. Have a safe flight to Boston—Blake”

I’m not sure why I feel upset that he didn’t say goodbye (or wake me up), but I quickly brush away the thought.

I have an hour to get to my next gate and I’m determined to be one of the first to board so I can finish my nap.

As I head through the connecting tunnel, I take out my phone and see that there are even more new voicemails: Five from my mother, two from my sister, and one from Adrian.

I listen to his first: “Seriously, Paris? Are you really that f**king immature to where you can’t say no to my face? You needed to go across the country? I told you I was sorry about the grad school things months ago and you’re still not over it? Is that what this is about? If it is, that’s f**king bullshit. You and I belong together and you know it. This is just another silly misunderstanding and I would really appreciate it if you came back. Call me when you land so I can fly you home and we can talk...Remember that the ring is two carats. I spent a lot of money it, so I think you should be more grateful...Talk to you soon.”