Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
What good would it have done if he walked me inside and to security? I ask myself as I stop for a latte. Me hugging him and spending every single second with him. So he could see how it is tearing me up inside? No, that wouldn’t do anyone any good.
I sit at the gate, waiting for my flight to be called. Looking out the window at the planes, I wonder if I really have to leave. Maybe I could stay an extra day? And then what? Drag the goodbye out even more? No. I get up when I hear them announce the last call for the flight, walking in and storing my bag in the overhead bin before sitting in my first-class seat. I tuck my purse under the seat in front of me before I take my phone out of my pocket.
I look down at the screen, seeing he texted me.
Stone: Gorgeous, it’s me who should be thanking you for the amazing weekend. Text me when you land.
I turn the Airplane Mode on before I tuck the phone into the pocket of the seat in front of me. I look out the window as the captain comes on to tell us how the flight will go, but all I can do is stare out my window, sort of in a state of shock. All I want to do is kick myself in my ass. What is wrong with you? He’s a guy. When have you ever thought about a guy for more than two days? Never. Not once. I have never in my life put a man before anything. They were always, and I mean always, a second thought. If I had a date, okay, but if not, it wasn’t that big of a deal. But now I’ve been with this fucking man for what… two weeks, and he’s all I fucking think about. It’s insane. It’s preposterous. It’s ridiculous. I’m a thirty-year-old woman who has her dream job, looking to climb the ladder even more, and I’m sitting here on a plane semi-heartbroken because the man I like lives fucking far from me.
I close the window shade and grab my bag as soon as we are airborne, pulling up the brief I should be thinking about instead of Stone motherfucking Richards. I shut it all down like I’m used to and focus on the brief I’m working on, making notes in the sidebar. I’m so out of it I only look up when the plane bumps when we land.
I tuck my iPad back into my bag, springing up when the seat belt sign goes off. I’m the second one off the plane as I make my way down the escalator and toward the Uber line, pulling out my phone before heading outside. I wait for it to finally get service, ignoring the text messages that come in, and just order the Uber. I look down at the map as if my life depends on it. Ignoring the way my hand shakes when I get into the car with my bag, I even go so far as to have a conversation with the Uber driver not to touch my phone. Usually, it’s a hello and a thank you. Now it feels like I’m giving him a job interview with the number of questions I’m asking him.
Even when I pull up to my apartment building, I get out of the car begrudgingly and grunt goodbye to the driver. I look around, seeing all the snow has melted while I was gone, which should make me happy. Then I hear Stone’s voice in my head, “You know who says that? People who have to deal with snow.”
I sniffle back the sting that comes to my nose, pretending it’s because it’s cold outside. I pant when I wheel my suitcase into my apartment that feels stuffy and still. I dump my bag on the counter before walking over to open the window in the living room just a touch and see the moon shining high in the sky.
My phone beeps from the front door, and I debate going to it, but my feet have a mind of their own. Pulling the phone from my pocket in the vest, I see that it’s Stone.
Stone: Hey, gorgeous, just making sure you are okay.
I put my head back and breathe out through my nose, then look back down at the text message. I make the mistake of scrolling back up to where he sent me the pictures of the two of us in the hot air balloon, the smile on his face making his eyes crinkle in the corners. “I miss him,” I admit to the empty room, “but it’s only normal since I’ve just left him. Tomorrow, I’ll be fine.”
I don’t call him back, but I do text him to let him know I’m okay. The last thing I need is him freaking out and calling Romeo.