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COREY: TODAY
(Present Day)
San Francisco, California
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FORGET “GOING TO HELL.” I’m flying there drenched in gasoline.
I held Hayley’s hand as we walked into a secluded restaurant outside of the city, as a hostess ushered us into a private suite that overlooked the ocean. I’d wanted to take her on my yacht today, but her brother had blocked that idea at the last minute. He’d asked to take his fiancée on it for a day trip so he could “see what type of yacht she prefers for the long-term.” He’d even wanted me to come along, to show her everything the boat was capable of, but I couldn’t be around him for longer than twenty minutes these days. The guilt of keeping a secret from him, especially this type of secret, was becoming unbearable.
“What are you thinking about, Corey?” Hayley looked up at me.
“Nothing important.”
“You promise?”
“No.”
“But you’ll tell me eventually?”
“I will.” I kissed her forehead.
“Wow,” she said, leading me over to the windows. “We’ll have to come here again and spend a weekend in those villas near the shore.”
“Your brother owns those.” I laughed. “Those are vacation rental cabins.”
“Oh, yeah.” She shrugged. “I forgot about those. Why didn’t you try to tell him that I should live in one of those instead of living with you?”
“I did.”
She laughed and playfully hit my arm.
I led her over to the table that was set for two and pulled out her chair. The second I took my seat, the butler walked over and uncorked a bottle of white wine.
After pouring two glasses, he set out the menus without saying a word, and then he stepped out of the room.
“Something is really bothering you, Corey.” Hayley moved her hand in front of my face. “Tell me.”
I sighed. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“You don’t want to do what anymore?”
“Take you on dates outside of the city,” I said. “Constantly cancel good plans to settle for shitty ones.”
“I’m not upset about the yacht.” She smiled. “You know I’m not into the super wealthy stuff anyway.”
“I’m not super wealthy.”
“You make fifty million a year.” She rolled her eyes. “And that doesn’t include the seventeen million you make from private clients, or the small millions you make whenever someone hires you for investigations.”
“Did you hack into my financial file?”
“I learned from the best.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I need to ask you something,” I said, clasping her hand atop the table.
“Anything.”
