Kristen worked many late nights and occasionally accompanied me to events.It saved me from taking a date and having to deal with all the emotional expectations.
It was much easier to put Kristen in a cab and invite someone home if I was attracted to them during the evening.
Occasionally I date.
I use that term loosely.I might take them out for dinner and sleep with them regularly for a few weeks.Five tops.
After that, women seem to think it’s a relationship leading toward marriage.It’s like the kiss of death is awaiting me when they ask questions like,so how do you feel about marriage?Ordo you want to be a father?
But nothing, and I mean nothing, gives me hives more thantell me how you made your fortune.
Let me translate: How much money do you have, and how long do I need to stay married to you before I either, a) divorce you or b) poison you?
Not on my watch, sweetheart.
I reach my seat, tug out my laptop, toss it down, and remove my jacket.Then try to curtail my grimace as I glance at everyone seated around me.I don’t care that there’re a few more inches thancattle class.We’re still packed in like sardines.
I’m used to having the entire fucking aircraft.
“Champagne, sir?”
Christ, I haven’t even sat down.
“Whisky,” I reply.
A couple across the aisle and two rows up giggle and hold hands.Jesus.They probably saved for ten years for this trip.
How cute...vomit.
Yes, I’m the most unromantic person on the planet.Blame Sandy the murderess.
Or rather, the Obsidian Viper.
I roll my eyes and lower into the seat, placing the laptop on the sliver of a desk to my left.There’s a mirror image set up right next to me and I hope like god the seat remains empty.
Jeremy should have booked it.
Kristen would have.
I curse, then swipe open my phone and send an email to my new PA, who starts on Monday, to arrange a baby shower gift.Kristen won’t expect me to attend.
I slip off my shoes and tuck them neatly away, then plug in my headphones, starting a business podcast I’ve been saving.Plus, it screamsno one talk to me.
Just as I’m relaxing, I do a double take as a blur of color and chaos appears to my left.
No.
No...Jesus.No.
A huge grin, surrounded by wild red hair, greets me.The young woman pulls off a pale green hooded coat that should’ve been trashed years ago and tosses it onto her seat along with a horrible striped scarf, a worn backpack, and pair of Bose headphones.
“Hi!”
My god.
I feel like I’ve been transported onto a London fucking bus.My face must show my horror as her smile briskly fades.
I glance away.
