The Stopover (The Miles High Club, #1)(16)

“How so?” I laugh.

“Brad has been suspended from school twice this year, and now Mischa is going off the rails too. A few weekends ago they each had a friend stay over at their father’s while he and his girlfriend went out to dinner.”

I frown as I listen.

“They got drunk from his bar and cut the crotches out of all of his girlfriend’s underwear.”

Aaron laughs, and my eyes widen in horror.

“And”—she sips her drink—“when their father asked them about it, they said that the underpants had rotted because her vagina was contaminated.”

I burst out laughing. “No.”

She shakes her head in disgust. “I wish I was joking.”

Aaron throws his head back and laughs. “I fucking love your kids, man. That’s a classic.”

“No, it’s a nightmare,” she replies flatly.

“Why did you divorce him?” I ask.

“You know, I don’t actually know.” She thinks for a moment. “We just kind of lost our way. We were both working so hard, so we were always too tired for sex. We had two kids and a mortgage.” She shrugs. “We never went on date nights or made an effort for each other. I don’t have a precise moment that we knew it was over. We just kind of fell apart.”

“That’s sad.” I sigh.

“He met someone else at work, and he talked to me about it. Nothing had happened at that stage, and he said he told me because he wanted to fight for us to get back what we once had.”

“You didn’t fight?” I ask.

“No,” she says sadly. “And neither did he. We just kind of walked away from each other. It was all too hard at the time.” She thinks for a moment. “I regret it now. He’s a great man. And in hindsight, I think a lot of the problems we had just come from getting older. Sex drive is something you both need to work at, but we didn’t realize that until it was too late.” She smiles softly. “We’re great friends now.”

Hmm. We all fall silent.

“Lucky you’ve got those kids to cut up your competition’s underwear.” Aaron smiles.

We all laugh out loud. “Contaminated vagina. Where do they come up with this shit?”

I hold the black dress up against my body and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Hmm. I throw it and the coat hanger it’s on onto the bed. I grab the gray skirt and jacket and hold it up to myself.

Maybe black?

Shit. What the hell do you wear when you want to be sexy without trying to look sexy? It’s just now eleven o’clock, and I’m deciding what to wear to my meeting with Mr. Miles in the morning. What does he want to see me about anyway?

I think I’ll go with the black dress. I lay it out on the chair. I pick up my patent leather pumps and put them on the floor under the dress. What earrings? Hmm. I twist my lips as I think. Pearls. Yes, pearls don’t scream fuck me like the gold ones do. Pearls are sensible working earrings.

Right.

I’ll wash my hair and curl it in the morning. I look at my reflection and hold my hair up in a high ponytail. Yes . . . high ponytail. He likes high ponytails. Stop it.

I sit on the end of my bed and look around my little apartment. It’s one bedroom and on the thirtieth floor—tiny and quaint. It is modern, though, and is in a nice building. It’s different from what I’m used to; this New York–living thing is all so foreign, living alone and drinks and places to go on a Monday night. I pick up my phone and flick through my messages. My three best girlfriends all messaged me tonight to see how my day was. So did my mom. Robbie didn’t.

Sadness sweeps over me. What’s going on with us? Maybe I should call him. I am the one who left, after all. I dial his number, and it rings. Eventually, he picks up.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” I smile. “How are you?”

“Sleeping,” he mutters. “What time is it?”

My face falls as I glance at my watch. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, no matter. I’ll call you tomorrow, babe.”

My heart drops. “Okay.” I pause. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Bye.” He hangs up.

I exhale heavily. “My first day at work went great; thank you for asking,” I mutter dryly.

With a heavy heart and a stomach full of nerves, I crawl into bed, and I smile into the darkness as I remember my night with Jim.

I’ve thought of him many times when I’m alone at night. He was hands down the most amazing sexual experience of my life—not that I’ll ever admit that to anyone, but I know it myself. I’m going to see him in the morning. I feel the nerves dance in my stomach. I wonder what he’s going to say?

Jameson

I sit at my desk and go through the folder, Emily Foster’s file. I read through her details, school grades, references, and then her application letter.

Was this the job she was trying to interview for twelve months ago?

Buzz.

I press the intercom to security on the ground floor, and I glance up at the mirror on the wall and push the remote. It instantly turns into a television screen. “Yes.”

“We have an Emily Foster here to see you, sir.”

I catch sight of her, and I smile. There she is. “Send her up.”

I watch as she is led through to the elevator with the guard, and he puts her into my elevator. I make my way out into reception, and soon the doors open, and she comes into view.