The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(125)

She wanted me back, and I told her that I don’t think I ever loved her . . . she got angry, and basically, it’s a fucked-up situation all around.

No, I can’t work out of London . . . too complicated. Scratch that idea.

How long will I go to Switzerland for? I go over the dates. Maybe a month?

Hmm . . . I bring up my work diary and begin to go through it. I’m owed a lot of holidays, and I guess I may as well take some.

My security phone goes off, and I answer. “Hello.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Miles. Mrs. Miles is here in the foyer to see you.”

I close my eyes. Shit. “Yes, thank you. Please let her in.”

Moments later the elevator doors open, and my mother steps out. Her face lights up when she sees me. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi, Mom.”

She takes me into her arms and holds me close for a moment as if sensing something is off.

“What are you doing here?” I smile as I pull out of her arms.

“I should ask you the same thing,” she replies as she follows me and sits down on the couch.

“I just . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my lie. “I just need some time off after all that embezzlement shit.”

Her eyes hold mine. “Good, I’m glad.”

“Can I get you anything?” I stand, uncomfortable lying to her.

“Some tea, please, darling.”

I walk into the kitchen and begin to make her tea. I take out her fine china pink-and-gold teapot and cup, the one she always drinks from when she’s here. She follows me and sits at the kitchen counter.

“Did Tristan send you?” I ask with my back to her.

“He’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. What’s going on with Emily?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“Emily and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Because?”





I keep making the tea.


“Look at me, Jameson.”

I drag my eyes to hers.

“Why aren’t you with Emily anymore?” she asks.

“Emily deserves better.”





She watches me.


“Ferrara.” I frown as I get my wording right. “I don’t want this life for her.”

“You don’t want her being with a workaholic, you mean?”

I shrug as I pass her the cup of tea.

“So, you ended it with her . . . for her?”

I purse my lips as I remain silent.

“Well that proves it, Jameson.”

“Proves what?”

“That she’s the one.”





I frown.


“You know, ever since you were a tiny little boy, you’ve done this.”

“Done what?” What is she talking about?

“When you were very little, maybe three or four years old, you used to have this little pale-blue pickup truck.”





I listen.


“You loved it. It fit in the palm of your hand, and you always carried it around. It was your pride and joy.”





I smile softly.


“The thing is, Tristan loved it too. He had his own, but yours was the special one. And even though you loved that truck with all of your heart, the moment that Tristan got upset about anything . . . you would give it to him. You couldn’t stand seeing him upset, and you felt responsible to make him happy.”





I frown.


“As you grew up, I watched you do this many times, Jameson, with many things. To the outside world you were aloof and cold, but for the ones you loved, you would do anything to make them happy. You have more heart than sense.”





My eyes hold hers.


“Why do you think that Emily wouldn’t be happy with you?”

I stare at her for a moment as a clusterfuck of emotion runs through me. “Because eventually, I’m going to let her down,” I whisper.

Her face softens. “Jameson darling, how? By working too hard? By being too honorable to your family business?”





I close my eyes.


“I’m in love with a man just like you, Jameson. You know him well, your father. He, like you, is a workaholic.”

“How . . . ?” I frown. “I don’t know how to do both, Mom.”

“Then work it out.”





I stare at her.


“Emily loves you, Jameson, not your money . . . or your company. She loves you . . . just you.”





I drop my head.


“Stop being so damn selfless, and do what you want to do.”

“I don’t know what that is anymore,” I whisper.

“Oh, nonsense,” she snaps. “Tell me something. If you were on a deserted island, who would you want by your side?”

“Emily,” I whisper without hesitation.

“Being in love is like being on a deserted island, Jameson. You focus on them and them only, and you make everything else fit around that person.”