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“You sure?”
“Yeah. See you on the flight back?”
“I’m on to NYC after this,” she says. “I’ll catch you back home.”
“Sure. See you later, then. Night, guys.” I wave at them before I peel off from the group and head to the rideshare waiting area outside the terminal.
* * *
When I getto the hotel, I find out that my standard room has been upgraded to a suite. I instantly know it’s Leon’s doing. My sweet, sweet husband. I groan when I spot the tub in the suite. It’s big enough for me to swim in.
I check my phone again and see there’s still nothing from Leon. I mentally rewind through the hours and realize that even with the time change he should have gotten in a couple of hours ago. I check his flight status on my phone and confirm that his flight landed almost three hours ago.
I tap the screen to call him and am surprised when it goes straight to voicemail.
My heart thumps rapidly as every possible scenario plays itself out in my mind. I can’t stop the anxious thoughts. Has there been an accident?
Is he hurt?
Dead?
I know it’s illogical and harmful to let my mind spin out of control like this, but I can’t get the feeling of dread to dislodge itself from beneath my ribs. If we didn’t have jobs that kept us apart, we wouldn’t be in a scenario like this.
In an effort to distract myself, I order food. Maybe packing some nachos on top of my worries will help lessen them.
Two hours later, I’ve had a bath, a full order of nachos, and I’m wrapped up in a big fluffy hotel robe, lying on top of an equally big fluffy bed. I’ve been flipping through TV channels, too agitated to actually concentrate on watching anything. Every call and text I’ve made to Leon has gone unanswered.
After hours of worrying, my phone finally rings.
It’s Leon.
I snatch it from the nightstand and stare at it for a few seconds, suddenly pissed. All my worry has drained away at the sight of his name on the screen, replaced with a brewing anger. I punch the button.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Chapter Two
Leon
Shit. Court is absolutely pissed at me.
Not that I blame her. I usually call right when I land, but today wasn’t a typical day.
I’m sitting on the end of the hotel bed, my head resting in my hand as Courtney goes off in my ear. I feel like shit, making her worry so much. She has every right to tell me off.
“Well?” she hisses into my ear.
“I’m sorry, Court. I really am. I wasn’t even out of the gate when Samson snatched me up. The client was outside the airport waiting in a limo. I didn’t even have time to take a piss. Samson dragged me right through the airport, briefing me on the changes in the prospectus the entire time. Then we went straight to the restaurant. I promise I would have at least texted if I’d had the time.”
“I don’t know if I believe you,” she huffs.
“Come on. What do you think was going on? Strippers and blow?” I scrub my hand across my eyes, suddenly exhausted. All I want right now is to snuggle into bed with my wife, tuck her juicy thighs up against mine, and sleep.
Instead I’m fighting with her.
“Maybe,” she says stiffly. But her voice is softer, too.
She knows I didn’t do this on purpose.
