The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(135)

“Yes, okay. I will. I promise.” The line falls silent for a moment, and I want to change the subject. “What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask.

“Shopping.”

“Shopping—you? What are you shopping for?”

“Well, where do you get the tents with bathrooms in them?”

I smile. “Bumfuck nowhere.”

He chuckles, and it’s a beautiful sound; it does things to my insides. It’s been a long time since I heard him laugh.

“Em . . . I’m not going to speak to you again until I pick you up from the airport on Sunday night. I want you to really think about your future and who you want in it. Either you come back to me with open arms, and we give this a red-hot go, or you end it.”

My heart drops.

“It has to be this way. If I can’t have all of you, I would rather be without you.”

I listen as my mind begins to go into overdrive . . . he’s giving me an ultimatum.

All or nothing.

I honestly don’t know if I can give him my all. I don’t think my all exists anymore.

“I’ll see you then?” he asks hopefully.

“Okay.”

“I love you.” He hangs up, and the line goes dead.

I roll over in the darkness and exhale heavily.

What do I want for my future? Do I give him away . . . ? Or give him everything? Or what’s left of my heart, at least. It’s been smashed to smithereens.

I literally have no idea.





Chapter 27

Jameson

I tap my foot as I crane my neck to look at the traffic backed up in front. Shit.

I press the buzzer to the front of the limo. “Are we going to be late?” I ask Alan.

“No, sir; we’re an hour early. Plenty of time.”

“I don’t want to miss her flight. Go the back way.”

“You won’t. Relax.”

I sit back and try to control my nerves. Emily hasn’t contacted me all weekend, and I’m pretty sure she’s coming home to end it between us. I’ve run and run and run. The only time I have had any semblance of peace is when I’ve pounded the pavement around New York.

I can’t accept the possibility that I won’t be in her life, that she won’t be in mine . . . the thought sickens me. How could I have been so fucking stupid?

I’ve been trying to pull a logical argument together in my head as to what I’m going to say if she ends it . . . so far I’ve come up empty.

The limo pulls up at the airport, and I climb out in a rush. “You’ll be here?” I ask.

“No, I’ll circle. Let me know when you have her, and I’ll come back around. You still have fifty minutes before her plane lands.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” I pat down my pockets as I look around nervously. “Do I have everything?” I’m flustered and vague.

“Yes, sir.”

I drop my shoulders and exhale heavily. “Wish me luck.”

Alan smiles broadly and, with a jovial nod, says, “Good luck, sir.”

I walk into the airport and up to the arrival gate of her plane. I still have forty minutes. I look over to the bar, and it calls my name in a sweet song.

A scotch would be so good right now . . . take the edge off.

No.

I need to cut that shit out. I haven’t allowed myself to have a drink all weekend. Emily deserves more than a drunk.

With nerves racing through my body, I walk to one end of the airport and then back to the arrival lounge. I glance at my watch. Thirty-five minutes to go. I do it again and again.

I can’t sit still.

Not when I know what’s coming.

Emily

I walk with the crowd into the arrivals lounge. My flight has just landed, and my heart is beating hard in my chest.

I’ve dug into the bottom of my soul this weekend, searching for the answers.

Trying to work out what to do with my life and who to do it with.

One thing is clear: the only thing that is clear . . . is who I love.

I can’t deny it.

Jameson Miles is etched into my heart, and as petrified as I am of him hurting me again, his words keep coming back to me. “To love is to be brave.”

I’m going to swallow my pride and be brave. I’m going to let myself go . . . and hope to God I’m doing the right thing, because I can’t go through this again.

He comes into view, and he smiles as our eyes lock. Excitement fills me, and I do a little skip and begin to run, and I jump into his waiting arms. We cling to each other tightly, locked in an embrace. We don’t speak; we don’t kiss; we just hold on.

Clinging desperately to the hope that we can get past this.

My shadows are chased away for a little while.

“I missed you,” he whispers into my hair.

“I missed you too.”

He bends, and his lips take mine as we forget where we are. His tongue slowly strokes through my open lips, and he holds my face in his two hands as we get lost in the moment. His kiss is tender and, more importantly, familiar.

With him, I am home.

An hour later, we walk into my apartment, hand in hand.

We hardly spoke on the way home. I sat on his lap, tucked safely in his big arms, and enjoyed the closeness. His lips dusted back and forth over my temple as he held tight, as if not believing I was here with him.