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“Okay, it’s not that,” Mickey says. “Maybe you’re overthinking things.”
“Then what could it be?!”
“Maybe he ate a bad omelet and is blowing up the bathroom.”
“Gross,” I say, wincing.
“Hey, food poisoning is a part of life,” Mickey says. “But my point is, it could be anything. It could be a work call. He could be helping an old lady cross the tarmac. Don’t read too much into something that could be nothing.”
“But it’s not just that,” I say. “It’s everything else. It’s ditching me in Ibiza, showing up late to Kara’s set. How cagey he’s been.”
“He told you that everything was going to be okay,” she reminds me.
“But that could mean anything!” I say. “It could mean ‘don’t worry, everything’s going to go back to business as usual’ or ‘don’t worry, later I’m going to eat your pussy like an apple pie’!” I freeze when I realize that I said that last part way too loud. An older couple walking by gives me a weird look and picks up the pace. I sink lower in my chair, blushing.
Mickey though is laughing on the other end of the phone. “Man, let’s hope it’s the latter,” she says.
“I just want to know I didn’t screw anything up.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Mickey asks, adopting the serious tone of a professional shrink.
“I mean…” I trail off. What did I mean by that?
“Do you want to still be with Nick? Or do you just want things to not be awkward around the office?”
“I want to be with him,” I say. “I know it’s crazy. I know it’s too soon but…” God, the thought of going back to business-as-usual Nick makes me want to cry. Never coaxing that booming laugh out of him. Never catching warm brown eyes trained on me. Never feeling him inside me as I cling to his muscular chest, riding him to the peak of pleasure. We have a connection, one I’ve never felt with another person before. And I can’t help but doubt that I’ll ever feel it again. We just fit.
“It’s okay,” Mickey says. “Don’t apologize. But you want to know why you’re feeling so bad?”
“Absolutely.”
“Because you lied to him. You weren’t honest on the plane. You need to tell him how you really feel, not what you think he wants to hear.”
The thought is terrifying. “But what if everything falls apart?” I ask.
“Then it was going to anyway,” she says. “And at least you can say you tried.”
After saying goodbye to Mickey, I return to my gate. Nick is back, and his eyes brighten at the sight of me. He gives an excuse, explaining why he was gone for so long (and no, it wasn’t food poisoning). I tell him Mickey says hi, excuse my own absence.
We wait.
The silence is comfortable, inside I’m anything but. My heart is racing, palms tingling with the beginnings of sweat. Will I tell him how I feel? Can I be brave one more time?
The question torments me for the rest of our long journey back to New York. On the commercial flight to London, on the private jet back to the States, I’m torn between two images, one of Nick taking me in his arms and kissing me with relief, the other of him coldly turning away, furious that I would even suggest breaking our agreement.
We land in New York around 8 p.m. Despite the time change and the long journey, I’m not tired. In fact, as the plane touches down, I feel rejuvenated.
Because I’ve finally made a decision.
I’ve spent too long letting life’s currents guide me. I’ve been passive, and almost allowed them to sweep me right over a cliff with a marriage to Brent. Now I’m choosing action over inaction. Certainty over doubt. Love over fear. Will it work out? I have no clue. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to look back on this day and wonder what might have been.
I plan on inviting him up to my apartment when he drops me off, but upon getting into his waiting car, Nick directs his driver to take us to his penthouse first.
I frown. His apartment is closer to the airport than mine, but I’d assumed that he would take me home. Maybe I shouldn’t have.
Thankfully, Nick seems to sense my confusion. He turns his steely, unreadable gaze on me. “My place is closer than the office. I have some schematics to show you. We missed a ton of work in Ibiza.”
Oh, of course. We’re in work mode now. My resolve wavers. Nick truly hasn’t wasted a moment getting back to business. And why shouldn’t he? He’s always been upfront about the kind of man he is. Am I a fool for thinking he could be more? That he’d want to be more?
