The Stopover (The Miles High Club Book 1)

I get out of bed and storm into the bathroom. I find him under the shower.

“For the record, Jameson,” I snap, “I was going to tell you that you should wake me up like that every day.”

He narrows his eyes in anger.

“It seems to me that the only person who’s thinking about love around here is you.”

He rolls his eyes as he soaps his groin.

His eye-rolling infuriates me. “So don’t turn this around and push me away because you are falling in love with me!” I don’t know what to say next, so I storm out. I grab my bag and head down to one of the other bathrooms to shower. I’m not getting in with him. Stupid jerk.

Half an hour later, I walk out into the kitchen to see Mr. Miles the CEO—gray suit, white shirt, and cranky controlled persona firmly back in place. “Are you ready?”

“Ah.” I look around. “I’ll just get my things.” I go into the bedroom and glance at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing his favorite outfit today, and he didn’t even notice. Well . . . poof to him.

Damn control freak is pissing me off.

I walk back out with my overnight bag over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

His brow furrows when he sees what I’m carrying. “What are you doing with that bag? Just get it later.”

“I’ll take it to work with me. That’s fine.” My eyes hold his. “I have a lot going on this week.”

His jaw clenches as he glares at me. “Good.” He turns and walks out, and I smirk.

I let you have the control for the last few days, Mr. Miles, but don’t misjudge my submission as a weakness.

I will not beg for any man to love me, CEO billionaire with blue eyes or not.

Don’t wreck it.

I know I told him I want friends with benefits . . . but the rules have changed.

For me, anyway.

We get into the elevator, and I stare straight ahead. I can feel the animosity oozing out of him. Part of me hates that I’m letting him get worked up before he even starts for the day, but screw it. I can’t spend my life tiptoeing around his stress levels.

We walk out through the foyer, and the limo is parked and waiting. Alan is standing next to the door.

“Hello, Alan.” I smile as we approach as if I don’t have a care in the world.

Alan smiles and nods in acknowledgment.

Jameson stays silent. He holds his hand out for me to get in first. I climb in and shuffle over the seat, and Jameson gets in beside me.

A folded newspaper sits on the seat, and I pick it up and begin to read.

Jameson stares at me, and I know it’s his paper. Well, too bad—I got it first. For ten minutes, I read in silence. There is none of my fake news today. Hmm. I wonder if this has a correlation to me not having it to Hayden by four yesterday. I think about it for a moment. I’m going to test this theory today. I’ll have a story to him by three and see what happens.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asks.

“I’m going out with Ava,” I lie as I pass the paper to him.

“I told you I didn’t want you going clubbing with her.”

I smile. The nerve of this control freak. “What I do when I’m not with you is none of your business, Jameson.”

“So now you’re going to be all dramatic?”

I roll my eyes. “Will you just stop.”

“Stop what?”

My eyes hold his. “I’m not in love with you. So . . . you can stop worrying that I am. I enjoy your company, but you obviously have a hang-up about someone caring for you and mistake it for love.” I roll my eyes. “It’s all a bit too hard, to be honest.”

His jaw clenches, and I know he’s fuming on the inside. “What does that mean?”

“What?” I ask.

“That it’s too hard.”

“It means go and find someone else not to fall in love with you.” I shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

“You’re fine with that?” he whispers angrily. “So if I went and had sex with someone else tonight, you’d be fine with that?”

I frown as I stare at him. What the hell is going on in that head of his? I drag my hand down my face. “Jameson, for fuck’s sake. What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” he snaps.

“Fine.” I blow out a deep breath. “Let’s leave it at that, then.”

“What does that mean?”

“My God,” I snap in exasperation. “For a smart man, you’re being really stupid. I can’t help you work out what you want from me, Jameson.”

He stares at me.

“One minute you’re telling me not to ruin it by falling in love with you, and the next minute you’re telling me you don’t want me going out without you.”

He sits back in his seat, affronted.

“I want a close friend to have sex with. We talked about this. It seems to me that the only person breaking the rules here is you. Why are you even thinking about love?”

“Don’t turn this on me,” he whispers angrily.

“All right, then,” I snap. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you have no feelings for me?”

He rolls his eyes in disgust.

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.”

I look him straight in the eye. “Do it, then.”

“What?”

“Tell me that you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me you have never thought of me once over the last year and that you never kept my scarf.”

He narrows his eyes in anger.

“Like I thought,” I huff as I turn my attention back out the window.

“I wondered how long it would be until that snarky bitch reared her ugly head,” he mutters under his breath.

“Ha,” I huff. “At least that bitch knows what she wants.”

“And what’s that?” he sneers.

“A man; that’s what she wants—one who isn’t afraid of his feelings.”

“Go to hell,” he whispers. “Just stop talking. You’re stressing me the fuck out with all your shit. If I wanted a psychiatrist, I would date one.”

I smirk as I look out the window. “We’re not dating, Jameson. We’re just fucking. Get it right.”

“You go out with Ava trolling for men tonight, and we won’t even be doing that.”

“Excuse me?” I snap as my anger starts to simmer. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

His eyes hold mine. “I can. And I just did.”

“Jameson.” I pause as I try to think of a calm and intelligent reply. “I would never sleep with someone behind your back—you know that. But you can’t tell me where I’m allowed to go. Even if you loved me, which you don’t, I wouldn’t allow you to dictate what I can do.”

“I mean it.”

“Go to hell.” The car pulls up around the corner at my spot where I get out, and I open the door in a rush.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he snaps as I climb out.

I lean back into the car. “Yeah, wait for me. I’ll be there when hell freezes over.” I slam the door in a rush.

The limo pulls out and slowly drives down the road toward the Miles Media building, and I inhale to try to calm my furiously beating heart.

Stupid fucking jerk.

“Wonder what this is about?” Molly frowns as she reads the news from her computer.

“What what’s about?” I reply as I type.

“It says here that Miles Media is having crisis meetings today with shareholders and that more meetings are scheduled in London next week.”

My heart drops; Jameson’s going to London next week. “What?”

She turns her computer screen to face me, and I read the financial reviews story on the Miles Media stock prices slump. I lean my face onto my hand as I read on.

God . . . what a nightmare. I look over and see Jake laughing with one of the girls in her cubicle as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. What is that stupid idiot doing? Is he even investigating the damn case at all?

Ugh, honestly, I think he’s the wrong man for the job. No investigating seems to be getting done, although I’m sure he has the phone numbers of every single girl on the floor. Should I tell him my thoughts about Hayden? No, it’s only a hunch with no real evidence. I’m testing the theory today.

Screw this. I’ll have to find out who’s doing this myself. It’s obvious Jake has no frigging idea.

From the corner of my eye, I see people scurry back to their desks, and I glance up to see Jameson and Tristan walking through the floor. Tristan smiles and talks to people as he walks along. Jameson stays solemn, in all his cranky gorgeousness.

His back is ramrod straight, and his face is so damn kissable it hurts.

You’re angry with him . . . remember, fool? Look away, look away.

I go back to my computer, but then I see out of the corner of my eye the familiar gray suit. I look up to find Jameson standing next to my desk. “Hello, Mr. Miles.” I fake a smile.

His eyes hold mine. “Hello.”

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Where is Jake?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Jake would be flirting somewhere in the office,” I say quietly. “Look for a good-looking woman, and you will find him.” I point in the direction of Jake with my pen.

Jameson inhales sharply as he glares over at Jake as he talks to a blonde, completely unaware that he is being watched. Jameson’s eyes flick to Tristan, and they both give a subtle shake of their heads.

“Tristan, I was wondering if I can see you for a few moments at some point this afternoon, please?” I ask.

“Yes, of course. Come up in half an hour.”

Jameson’s eyes stay fixed on me for a beat longer than necessary, as if he’s waiting for me to say something. I smile warmly as I hide my anger. Maybe he’s right, and I really am a bitch. “Bye.”

“Goodbye,” he says as he turns and walks over toward Jake.

I smile as I watch the moment Jake sees him coming and how fast he jumps up from the corner of that desk. Jameson says something to him, and then I watch as Jake is marched to the elevator.

I hope they fire him. He’s definitely not worried about the enormity of this case.

Forty minutes later, I knock on Tristan’s door. “Come in,” he calls.

“Hello.” I smile.

“Hi, Emily.” He gestures to his desk. “Come take a seat.”

I sit down. “I just wanted to keep you updated on something that happened yesterday that felt out of the ordinary.”

“Great, okay.” He holds his pen in his hands. “What is it?”

“Hayden came and asked me for my stories early.”

He frowns as he listens.

“It felt weird that he needed them early. So . . . I lied and said they weren’t ready yet.”

“And?”

“And there was no fake news today.”

He narrows his eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m grasping at straws, but it kind of felt like the fake news stories only go to print if they are in by a certain time.”

“Interesting. That’s great work.” He thinks for a moment. “Hold the story back today so we can test the theory, and I will start to dig up some info on Hayden. Good work.”

I stand.

“Is everything all right?” he asks.

“Yes, why?”

His eyes hold mine for a beat, and I know that Jameson has said something about our fight this morning. “Just checking.”

“Everything’s great.”

“Good.”

“See you later.” I bounce out of the office like I don’t have a care in the world.

It’s late Friday night, and I stare at the television, my mind in a blurred haze. I haven’t heard from Jameson since our fight on Wednesday morning. I’ve seen him in passing at work, but that’s all.

Maybe that’s it—maybe I won’t see him again.

On Wednesday, the romantic in me was convinced he had real feelings for me and that he would come back begging. On Thursday, I decided that the man has deep emotional flaws if he couldn’t see he had feelings for me.

Today . . . I wonder if I meant anything at all. Maybe I’ve looked at the whole thing through rose-colored glasses? All along he’s given me signs, and like a fool, I’ve ignored every one of them.

He leaves for London on Monday, I think—not that I would know if his plans have changed.

My mind goes back to the flight where we met, and now that I know the life that he leads . . . I can see it all so clearly.

He didn’t ask for my number because he didn’t want anything—he even said that was the reason why. But I never thought that he actually meant he didn’t want anything. I thought there was an ulterior motive and that was just the lie he used to cover it. Maybe some people are just wired never to want more. Or maybe he just hasn’t met the right person yet.

So many maybes.

My door buzzes, and I frown and get up and push the button. “Hello.”

“Hey.” The voice is distorted.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” he pants.

“Jameson?”

“You expecting someone else?” he says, obviously annoyed.

I smile, buzz him in, and run into the bedroom to take off my ragged nightdress that has hot chocolate spilled down the front of it. I flap my arms around in a panic and grab a towel off the rack. I wrap it around my chest as if I just got out of the shower. It’s a lot better than a soiled nightdress with dancing teddy bears on it. Why my grandma thinks dancing teddies is something I need, I’ll never know.

A knock sounds at the door, and I open it in a rush. And there he stands. Piercing blue eyes greet me. He’s wet with perspiration and panting.

My face falls. “Did you run all the way here?”

He nods. He has a melancholy feeling oozing out of him.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

He shrugs, and his eyes search mine.

“Jay,” I whisper as my heart melts. I take him in my arms and hold him tight. He clings to me as if his life depends on it.

We stand in each other’s arms for a long time; no words are needed. At this moment, he needs me.

“Did the ax murderer chase you here?” I whisper up against his cheek.

He smiles and grips me tighter. “Maybe.”

“I paid him to do that.”

“Witch.” He smirks.

“Come on, let’s get you in the shower.” I take his hand and lead him into the bathroom and turn on the shower and take his shirt off over his head.

His eyes darken, and I slowly slide his track pants down his legs.

“I’ve had the worst few days,” he murmurs.

I nod as I slide his briefs down his legs. “I know, baby. This work nightmare will be over soon.”

“It has nothing to do with work.”

“What’s it got to do with?”

His eyes hold mine, and he swallows the lump in his throat. “You.”

I smile softly as my heart free-falls from my chest. “You missed me?”

He nods as if he’s feeling stupid.

I kiss him and hold his face in my hands. “I missed you, too, you big dope.”

“But you said—”

“Don’t worry about what that snarky bitch said. She’s off her chops. Pay her no attention.”

He smirks as his hands drop to my behind. “Off her chops? What the hell does that even mean, Emily?” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I giggle. “When snarky bitches go crazy, they go off their chops.”

He chuckles and holds me close and inhales deeply into my hair as if he’s relieved.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us, Jay.” I hesitate as I try to articulate what I want to say. “But you can depend on me. Don’t be scared of us. Because I’m not.”

“You should be,” he fires back.

“Why would I be scared of someone who makes me feel the way you make me feel?”

His face softens, and he dusts my bottom lip with his thumb. “It’s been a long few days without you.”

I smile softly. I love him when he’s like this. “Get in the shower, and wash away the last week, and stay with me.”

His kiss deepens, and I feel his erection begin to grow up against my stomach. He pulls off the towel and leads me into the shower by the hand and pushes me up against the wall.

We kiss like we’ve been starved of each other. My man Jim is back . . . and I feel like we just jumped over some invisible hurdle between us.

What exactly that is I just don’t know, but I feel if I can bring Jim to me for long enough for things to become real between us, maybe I can help Jameson get some kind of work-life balance.

Monday morning

Jay holds me tight in his arms as we say our goodbyes. He goes to London for a week today. He has meetings all week. We’ve had the most amazing weekend. We stayed here at my apartment the entire time. I’ve cooked for us, we’ve made love and watched movies, and we even went for a run. Not a cranky CEO in sight. We went back to his place last night to pack his bag, and even then, we came back here to my house to sleep. I feel that when he’s here at my house, he’s able to detach from being Jameson Miles the CEO and just be a regular man . . . my man. He can forget who he is for a while and what is expected of him.

The dynamic has shifted between us.

I don’t know how to stop it, but I’m falling for him.

I can feel myself slipping under the water, his water . . . the beautiful spell of Jameson Miles.

“No layovers, okay?” I whisper.

He smiles as we kiss.

“No talking to girls who get upgraded.”

He grabs my behind. “Stop talking, wench.”

I grip him tighter. “Oh. I hate the thought of a week without you.”

He kisses me again but remains silent.

“Will you say something?” I whisper. “Say something sweet to put me out of my misery.”

His eyes come to mine as he cups my face. “I packed your scarf in my luggage.”

I smile softly.

“It’s nothing new. I’ve taken it on every trip I’ve been on . . . since we met.”

A wave of unexpected emotion overwhelms me, and my eyes fill with tears. I blink them away in the hope he doesn’t see. “You have?” I whisper.

He nods and kisses me as he holds my face, and it’s tender and perfect and God, I just want to blurt out that maybe I really do love him for real now.

But I won’t, because then I will ruin it.

Whatever this is.

I lie in bed and aimlessly scroll through Instagram, but my mind is anything but on my feed. Jameson is my focus. I’ve missed him this week, but I know he’s missed me too. Even with all his meetings and stress over there, he has kept in constant touch. Hopefully when he gets back, we can decipher what’s really going on here. My phone rings, and the letter J lights up my screen.

“Hello.” I smile.

“Hey there,” his deep velvety voice purrs down the line.

“How’s my man?”

“Good, busy. How are you?”

“Lonely.”

We’ve spoken every day since he’s been gone . . . twice a day, actually.

He chuckles. “You didn’t look too lonely last night in that Skype session.”

I feel my face flush. We’ve been sexting each other every night, and last night I may have given him a little vibrator show. The look on his face was one of pure pleasure. I clench my sex just thinking about the way he was pulling himself as he watched me.

God . . . deviants.

“What’s going on today, sweetheart?” he asks.

My stomach flips every time he calls me that; it will never grow old. “Working.” I try not to talk about work with him. I want to keep our relationship as separated as I can. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just about to go out to dinner with Elliot. He’s introducing me to some girl he’s met.”

“Really?” I smile. “Has he fallen in love?”

“God, no. He falls in lust every week, though.”

I giggle.

“Are you going out tonight?”

I roll my eyes. “No, Jay; relax, will you?”

God, he’s frigging traumatized from that night I was dancing with the blond god.

“It’s hard to relax when I know how gorgeous you are on the other side of the world all alone.”

“Well, in four more days you’ll be back.” I glance at my watch. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to miss my bus.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go. Have a nice day, babe.” He sighs.

“You too,” I whisper.

He lingers on the line.

Even on the other side of the world, he has an effect on me. He’s waiting for me to tell him I’m missing him . . . he always does.

“I’m missing you.” I smile.

“Me too.”

“I’ll speak to you tonight.”

“Okay. Bye.”

Molly and I’ve just been out for dinner, and she’s driving me home. Her phone rings through the Bluetooth in her car. The name Michael lights up the screen. “Hello,” she answers.

“Oh my God, Molly. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong?” she stammers as she slows the car down.

Michael is her ex-husband; my eyes widen as I listen.

“I took something, and now I’m driving, and I just passed out, and my car hit a guardrail.”

“What?” she cries as she pulls the car over to the side.

“I feel so dizzy.”

“Holy shit, tell me where you are!”

“I’m on the interstate near the garage we get gas from.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” She does a U-turn and starts speeding in the other direction.

She’s driving like a bat out of hell, and I hold on for dear life. “Do you know mouth to mouth?” I ask.

“No.” She shrugs. “Maybe a little bit. Can you google passing out for me?”

I start to google. “Should we just call an ambulance?”

“Maybe.” She looks between me and the road; she calls him back.

“Hello,” he says in a meek voice.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” he snaps. “Just get here.”

Five minutes later we pull up behind his parked car, and we can see him slumped in the front seat. We both get out to run up to the car.

“Thank God you’re here,” he splutters when he sees her. Then he sees me, and his face falls.

“It’s all right. This is Emily,” she says. “What happened?”

He points at her and me. “Do not tell a soul.”

“What?”

He gets out of the car, and we both look down. He has a huge erection.

“What the fuck?” Molly gasps.

“I have a Tinder date tonight, so I took a Viagra, but it didn’t seem to work, so I took another two.”

I put my hands over my mouth in horror.

Molly’s eyes widen. “You took three Viagra?”

He nods, his erection nearly splitting his pants.

“You are the stupidest fucking man I’ve ever known.”

“Without a doubt.” He winces. He goes to move and then gets dizzy and has to hold on to the car for balance.

“Get in the car,” she demands. “I’m taking you to the ER.”

“What?” he stammers. “No.”

“You have no blood left in your body, you stupid fuck!” she cries.

He puts his head into his hands, and I want to burst out laughing so hard. I bite my lip to stop myself as I look between the two of them.

“What’s the ER going to do?” he cries.

“Other than laugh at the middle-aged man with a Tinder erection, nothing. Get in the damn car.”

He goes to walk and then falls to the ground, and we both run to pick him up and put him in the front of Molly’s car. I climb in the back.

Molly’s eyes flick to him as he lies back on the seat in pain, and I stay silent, unsure what to say. I’ll catch a cab home from the ER. I don’t want to be in the way.

Molly shakes her head as she drives. “So . . . let me get this straight, Michael. You’re going out with Madam Whorebag tonight, and you go to all this trouble to satisfy whoever she is in bed?”

He looks over at her and clenches his jaw as if he knows what’s coming next.

“You couldn’t even be bothered to have sex with me at all, Michael!” she screams. “How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”

“Because you didn’t fucking like it,” he fires back.

“Because I got two fucking pumps.”

My eyes widen. Oh jeez. I so don’t want to be here right now. I slump into my seat to try to hide.

“Why do you think I have to take this shit? Huh?” he yells. “Because I knew what a fucking disappointment I was to you.”

Molly’s eyes widen in rage. “You were never a disappointment. You were fucking lazy and didn’t care.”

“I did so care!” he screams. “Losing you is the biggest regret of my life.”

I put my head into my hands. I wonder if they would notice if I dived out of the moving car.

Molly glares at him, and the car coasts to one side of the highway. I wince. “Eyes on the road, Moll,” I whisper. She straightens the car.

“So why didn’t you call her to come and get you tonight, huh?”

“Because I wouldn’t tell her anything about me.” He sighs as he leans his head onto his hand, clearly upset.

“Why not?” she yells.

“Because she’s not you!”

The car falls silent, and my eyes fill with tears. He still loves her.

Oh . . . this is so sad.

Moments later we pull into the hospital and help him out of the car and into the reception room, and Molly goes up to the desk. “My husband needs to see somebody, please.”

“What’s the problem?” the nurse asks.

She drops her shoulders as she steels herself to say it out loud. “I accidentally gave him too much Viagra.”

Michael takes her hand in a silent thank-you, and I smile softly.

She’s covering for him to save him the embarrassment.

“Oh.” The nurse’s face falls, and she gets a wheelchair. With Molly walking beside him, he is wheeled down the corridor.

I take a seat and inhale deeply as my faith in the human race is restored.

I learned a lesson tonight—love comes in all shapes and sizes.

Jameson

I tap the whiteboard in front of me as I stand and go through our discussion topics. “This projection here is based on the current climate. However, that may change when the election goes through.”

Buzz. My phone dances across the table, and I look up at the men sitting around the board table. Damn it, just let it ring out. Elliot glances down at my phone at the same time to see the caller ID.

FB.

But I want to hear her voice; two minutes won’t hurt. “I have to take this call. Elliot, can you go through the advertising strategy for next month, please, while I do?”

“Sure thing.” Elliot stands and takes over, and I answer the call and leave the room and head into Christopher’s office next door.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” Emily’s happy voice beams down the phone line.

“Hi.” I find myself smiling stupidly as I stand at the window overlooking London.

“Did I interrupt anything?” she asks.

I smirk. Only a meeting with twelve management staff. “No, not at all.”

“I called to tell you I bought new sneakers.”

I smile. “You did?”

“Uh-huh, they’re motorized, so I will be whipping your ass on park runs from here on in. Just thought I should warn you.”

God . . . she’s so refreshingly normal. When has a woman ever called me to tell me she bought new sneakers? “I highly doubt that.”

“Oh hell, you won’t believe what happened last night,” she continues. “Molly’s ex-husband took two Viagra, maybe three, and passed out while he was driving because he had no blood left in his body because it was all in his dick, so we had to take him to the ER.”

I laugh out loud. “What the hell? Is that a thing?”

“Yes, it’s a thing. Who knew?”

I widen my eyes. Jesus. “I’ll have to stop taking it, then,” I tease.

She laughs. “No, it’s okay. I completely know what to do now. Passing out is well worth it. You stay on that shit—we just need to tourniquet it. I’ve got us covered.”

We both laugh and then fall silent.

“Three days,” I murmur.

“Three days,” she repeats.

God, I’ve never been so anxious to get home in my life.

“What are you doing now?” I ask.

“I’m about to put a face mask on and take a bath with cut-up cucumber over my eyes. You’re missing out on a real visual sensation over here.”

“No doubt.” I smile. This woman is so naturally beautiful. She doesn’t try to be something she’s not. I love that about her.

I love a lot of things about her . . .

“So you’ve added cucumbers to your beauty regimen now?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s supposed to make you less puffy.”

I smile broadly. “Cucumbers are good for a lot of things. Maybe it should be added to our sexual regimen as well.”

She bursts out laughing. “You’re a sicko, Mr. Miles.”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I’ll let you go.”

I smirk as I look out the window. “Goodbye, Emily.”

“Goodbye, Jay,” she whispers. The phone goes dead, and I head back into the boardroom and take a seat.

Christopher is now talking about something, and I take my seat next to Elliot.

He leans over and whispers, “You have Zuckerberg on speed dial now?”

“Huh?” I frown.

“FB . . . that stands for Facebook, right?”

I frown and then realize he’s talking about the call from Emily.

FB stands for fuck bunny, not Facebook. I smirk, and then I pinch the bridge of my nose as my chuckle breaks through.

“What’s so funny?” Elliot whispers.

“Zuckerberg bought motorized sneakers.”

Elliot rolls his eyes. “It wouldn’t surprise me. That guy’s fucking crazy.”

I catch a cab with a thousand thoughts running through my mind. There’s so much history between the two of us. I’m on my way to see my ex, who was supposed to be the love of my life.

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Claudia. She was in the States the last time I was in London. Both being workaholics has always worked against us—time together is precious.

I knock on the door and exhale; my nerves are thumping heavily. The door opens in a rush, and her beautiful face comes into view. She smiles broadly and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Thank God you’re here,” she whispers into my neck. “I’ve missed you.”