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“Fine.” The sound of papers shuffling in the background came over the line. "Greg probably won't arrive at the terminal until later tonight, but you don't have to wait for him. Head over to the window bay, and I'll make a call so that you can fly out now."
“I take it you’ll be waiting for me when I arrive?”
“Luckily for you, I won’t be,” he said. “I’m on a working vacation with my girlfriend this week, and I think I need a few days to calm down after hearing this shit. I’ll have a driver there to meet you, though.” He paused. “You’re not in any financial trouble, are you?”
“Not anymore.” I wiped away more tears. “I just need to find where I belong all over again. My business partner, Kelly, will need to come along, too. She’ll be coming to San Fran to join me in a month or so. If you could, can you help her, too?”
“I can.”
“Thank you, Jonathan.”
“Don’t thank me until I’ve seen you in person and gotten the whole damn story. Are there any other random ass requests or last-minute lies you want to clear up?”
I let out a breath. “You’re mad at me?”
“No, I’m far from mad at you, Hayley. I’m fucking livid.” He paused. “But I still love you. You should’ve told me about this a long time ago, though. You know I don’t appreciate secrets.”
“I know. I love you.”
“Love you more. Call me when you land.”
He waited for me to end the call, and I walked over to the window bay as he instructed. Before I could make it all the way there, a man in a navy-blue suit appeared and grabbed the handle of my suitcase.
“Miss Statham, I'm Nathaniel Matthews,” he said. "I'm going to be your pilot today. Should we take off now, or are we waiting for someone else?"
“It’s just me.”
“Great. Follow me, please.” He smiled and led me outside.
The second I stepped onto the tarmac, a man in a black suit rushed over to me with an umbrella and held it over my head. He matched me step for step as we walked across the wet road, all the way up the private jet’s silver staircase.
I settled into the first seat, tracing my fingers along the cursive “Statham” that was etched into the wooden hand-rest.
“Hello, Miss Statham.” A flight attendant set a bowl of strawberries in front of me. “I’ll be here and at your service whenever you need me.”
“Thank you.” I wiped away another tear and leaned back, waiting for this chapter of my life to reach its last page.
As the pilot called to the control tower for permission to take off, my phone buzzed in my pocket. An email from Jonathan.
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SUBJECT: COMING HOME.
Hayley,
I think it’ll be good to have you home with me. I’ve booked a suite at the Four Seasons for you this week, and I’ll have a permanent residence set up for you and your friend by next week.
I won’t ask any questions at this moment, but I will need complete and utter honesty from you when I do. Are we clear?
Also, since you’ll be in town this week, I need you to go to an art auction party for me and bid on a few paintings. I’ll send details in a couple of hours.
Love,
Jonathan
PS—Corey is still in San Fran. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again.
––––––––
COREY?
My eyes focused on the last line of his email as the plane ascended into the sky, and my heart beat a traitorous rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. Corey being in San Francisco changed everything about this new arrangement, and I knew I needed to try like hell to avoid him for as long as possible.
