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At her insistence, the taxi had waited for her to transport her to the airport. It wasn’t a short drive nor would it be a cheap fair, but she really couldn’t care less in the moment. She was waiting for her phone to blow up, for someone to notice she was gone, for Marco to pitch a fit about her disappearance. But, the hour- long drive out of the city produced nothing, just silence.
Her flight home was atrociously priced, but then again, so was her cab fare. Money hardly mattered at this point.
She was just ready to be home.
She boarded her flight without any problems, and she checked her international cell phone one last time to see if anyone was going to contact her.
She had expected at least some kind of snide remark from Marco, something to know that he had read her note. All she wanted to do was leave him before he had the chance to leave her.
It was easier that way.
***** Chyna dozed off on the flight. She was awoken eight hours later by a flight attendant speaking obnoxiously into the speakers about landing and putting seats in their upright position. She yawned and stretched her arms overhead, adjusting the kink in her neck from sleeping on the plane. She flagged down a stewardess as soon as she saw one.
“Yes, ma’am? Can I help you?”
“Can I get a Maker’s on the rocks?”
she asked, feeling a headache coming on.
“Ma’am, we’re too close to landing for that,” she said with a curt smile like she was used to dealing with bitches in first class.
“Are you serious? Alcohol. Anything.
Thanks,” Chyna said, throwing herself back in her chair and ignoring the woman’s insistence that she couldn’t provide alcohol at the moment.
A couple of minutes later, an older male flight attendant dropped off her drink while glowering at the other attendant.
“Don’t mind her. She’s new,” he said with a wink.
“Thanks,” she muttered, taking a shot of the bourbon straight out of the first bottle before adding the second one to her glass. There—her headache was already going away. She sipped on her drink, thankful that someone had shown her some mercy.
The plane touched down at JFK Airport long after she finished her drink.
She had another man help her pull her bag down. She hadn’t eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours, and the Maker’s Mark was hitting her stomach stronger than it normally would have.
It was eight o’clock in the morning in New York, and her stomach growled, ready for her afternoon lunch in Italy. The time change was going to be a real bitch to get used to. She had informed Carl that she would be arriving in New York that morning and was thankful when she saw his scruffy-bearded face appear among the individuals waiting with signs for their passengers. He ushered her out to the car, taking her carry-on in his hand. He didn’t ask any questions as to why she was arriving two weeks ahead of schedule.
“To your apartment, Miss Chyna?” he asked as he veered into traffic.
“Alexa’s apartment would be wonderful, Carl,” she said, curling up into a ball in the back of her town car. Her phone had never gone off, except for the return message from Carl, and it died shortly after she landed. She felt sick, tired, hungry, and exhausted, and she wanted nothing more than to lounge around with her best friend.
“Of course,” he said, swinging around traffic toward her apartment.
They arrived forty-five minutes later, having evaded most of the Sunday traffic.
“Want me to wait?”
“No, Carl. Thank you. I will catch a cab if I need a ride. Hopefully, I’ll be here all day and night,” she murmured the last part, not wanting to freak him out more than she already likely had.
“Are you alright, Miss Chyna?” he asked as she popped open her door.
“Fine, Carl. Go take your wife to church,” Chyna added with a smile.
“Thank you. Hope you feel better,” he told her, not believing her.
She slammed the door behind her and took the elevator to Alexa’s floor. It was a rickety old thing that made her uneasy, but she didn’t think she could manage the stairs in her state. She traipsed down the hallway and knocked on the door. She had a key…somewhere. It was probably buried in her penthouse. Maybe Frederick knew where it was. He knew more about the design of the apartment than she ever would.
As she stood there, mulling over where she thought Alexa’s spare key might be, the door swung open. Chyna’s empty stomach plummeted, and she tried to hold back the rising bile. The day had been too long, the night too exhausting, the plane ride too burdensome, and the time change too weakening for her to have to deal with this right now.
At least to her credit, Adam looked just as shocked as she did.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Her voice came out angrier than she had intended. She was pretty sure it was ninety-five percent exhaustion speaking. The other five percent was blatant curiosity, considering the fact that he had continued to pop into her head yesterday after Alexa had brought him up.
“What are you doing here?” he asked right back. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Milan?”
“Long story. What are you doing here?” she repeated, eyeing him carefully.
He still looked the same. A month and a half hadn’t changed him, except he had maybe lost a little weight. It didn’t look bad on him. Damn those hazel eyes . They were more on the side of gold today than green, and she liked those days. What was she even thinking ? She was clearly not in the right state of mind to be around him.
“I brought Lexi coffee,” he said, holding up a bright white-and-orange coffee cup with big orange lettering that read Jittery Joe ’ s.
“Where the hell is that from?” she asked because she had never seen it before.
“Uh…NYU off 45th,”
he said hesitantly.
“You went all the way to 45 th to get Lexi coffee?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Hold up with the third degree. Her coffee machine broke. Jittery Joe’s is from Georgia. I just thought it would be nice.”
He shrugged and put on that goofy grin she had always loved.
No! No. No. She did not even think that word. She swallowed, unsure as to what the hell she was even doing at the moment.
“Who’s at the door?” Chyna heard Alexa call from inside.
Adam turned around and called back.
“Chyna.”
“What the f**k? Are you f**king serious?” Lexi yelled, jogging to the doorway. When she saw Chyna, she threw her arms around her best friend like it had been centuries since she had seen her.
