Home > The Stopover (The Miles High Cl(88)

The Stopover (The Miles High Cl(88)
Author: T L Swan

“Here, here.” Aaron lifts his glass, and we clink again.

“Michael asked me out on a date on Saturday night,” Molly says casually.

My knife and fork hit the plate with a clang as my eyes rise to meet hers. “What?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what to make of it, really.”

“Did he ask you out for a casual dinner? Are you sure it’s a date?” Aaron frowns.

“No, his exact words were, ‘Would you like to come out on a date on Saturday night?’”

I smile. “Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “So much water has passed under the bridge between us. We’ve just got to a place of trust and friendship again. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“By fucking him?” Aaron smirks as he bites into his food.

“Well, if I did fuck him, and he didn’t use double Viagra on me, I would be mortally offended. I know what tricks he has in his toolbox now.”

We all giggle.

“God, that night was funny,” I add, remembering him passing out from all the blood in his dick.

Molly rolls her eyes. “For you, maybe.”

We fall silent as we eat.

“Good luck for tomorrow, babe,” Aaron says.

“Thanks, guys.” I smile. “You are the best two things about New York.”

“God, you’re so right,” Molly mutters into her glass. “And these margaritas.” She raises her glass to show me. “So should I go out with Mike?”

“Yes,” Aaron and I gasp. “Go.”

“Emily.” Athena smiles as she wraps her arms around me. “It’s so good to see you. Welcome.”

“Hi.” I smile nervously.

“You’re going to love it here.” She pulls me through the office by the hand. “Here is your office.”

I smile, surprised. “I get my own office?”

“Of course you do.”

I look around the little office. It’s definitely no management top floor, but it suits me just fine. There’s a window and a desk and a chair in the corner. It’s kind of homey. I turn to her. “Thank you for taking me on. I am so grateful.”

Athena smiles and rubs my arm. When I called her asking for a job, she never once asked what happened with Miles Media or my relationship with Jameson. But I know that she knows that I’m probably broken with nowhere else to go, and running home with my tail between my legs isn’t an option.

She’s right.

I’m going to make it up to her; I’m going to be the best damn reporter that she has ever had.

“I’ll leave you to it.” She smiles. “Staff meeting at ten to introduce you to everyone. We have welcome doughnuts.”

I smile. “Thanks, that would be great.”

She disappears down the corridor, and I take a seat at my new desk and look around the lonely space.

I miss Molly and Aaron . . . and the buzz of Miles Media.

Jameson

“With this projection here, the forecast is a growth of ten percent over the next eighteen months.” Harrison from finance taps the graph on the projector whiteboard as he addresses the board meeting.

The table is alive with chatter and enthusiasm. The comeback strategy from the drama over the last four months is alive and well.

Me . . . I’m miles away.

I can’t concentrate . . . I can’t think . . . I feel like I can’t breathe.

Maybe I’m not okay.

Emily started her new job today, and I wanted to call her and wish her luck.

I couldn’t sleep thinking about it and even picked up the phone a few times. I drop my head.

But what’s the point . . .

I wonder if she ran this morning. Did she wear her runners that she said have motors on them? I smile softly to myself as I remember Elliot thinking I was talking about Zuckerberg having the motorized runners.

Idiot . . .

I twist in my chair to stretch my back. I need a massage.

Emily doesn’t like me getting massages. I think back to the kind of massages I used to get, and it seems like another lifetime ago.

BE—Before Emily . . . stop it.

“Jameson will be addressing that in the morning.”

I look up, lost. What are they talking about?

The board members around the table all stare at me as they wait for my reply. My eyes flick to Tristan for guidance.

“When you fly to Seattle tonight.” He raises his eyebrows as a gentle reminder.

“Yes.” I nod. “That’s right.”

Tristan is limping me through work at the moment, well aware of my state of mind.

The meeting continues, and I sip my water to try and bring my mind back to where it needs to be. This isn’t good enough, Jameson.

Focus.

I walk onto the plane.

“Good evening, Mr. Miles. Your seat is here, sir. 1A.”

“Thank you.” I fall into the seat in the front row of first class.

The plane slowly boards, and I stare out the window. Flying never used to bother me. I hate it now.

I hate that it reminds me of her . . . of how we met. Of the night we had together.

Of how badly things turned out in the end.

With my elbow leaning on the armrest, I pinch the bridge of my nose. I just want to get there and go to my hotel and sleep. I’m tired and not in the mood for this shit.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Miles?”

“Scotch, please.”

An elderly man takes the seat next to me. He nods. “Hello.”

“Hi.” I smile. I turn my attention out the window to the baggage crew down on the tarmac, all doing their job and rushing around doing the safety checks.

They’re driving on carts, flashing lights, and waving flags.

I wouldn’t even care if the plane fucking crashed.

Burning in hell would be better than this.

Four days later

I smile at Alan as he stands next to the limo at the airport. “Hello, sir. Did you have a nice trip?”

“It was fine; thank you.” I smile as I get into the back seat.

“Would you like to do the normal route, sir?” he asks through the door.

“Yes, please.”

He smiles. “Very well.” He shuts the door, and moments later, the car pulls out into the traffic.

Half an hour later, he slows down as we drive past Emily’s apartment, and I peer through the window.

Is she there?

We do this every night on the way home—my own stupid way of saying good night to her . . . if I don’t, I end up running back here later.

Who am I kidding? I run back here most nights anyway. I hold my breath as we drive past, hoping to catch a glimpse of her . . . I’ve never seen her once.

My heart drops; she’s not here.

I look back through the back window as we disappear down the street.

Emily . . . where are you?

Emily

I sit on the bus on my way home from work and read my Kindle. It’s dark and just around six o’clock in the evening. I’m happier . . . stronger. I’ve been at my new job for three weeks, and I love it. I did the right thing. People are all really lovely, and thankfully, I’m not the office gossip anymore, and I have a more integral role than I did at Miles Media. I still see Molly and Aaron all the time for drinks and dinner, and I’ve planned to go home for the weekend.

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