Tomorrow, I’ll handle the details. But tonight, tonight is mine. One small, bold choice to step off the wheel. To be spontaneous for nobody else but me.
CHAPTER 3
JOVI
TIME TO GET MY SHIP TOGETHER
“Come on! Come on!” I yell at my printer like it’s a sentient nemesis, jabbing at the buttons with more force than necessary, willing it to cooperate. It’s decided to completely shit itself at the worst possible time. It sputters, groans, and finally spits out the last of my itinerary, a little crumpled, but it will have to do. I rip the paper from the tray and place it in my folder with the rest of my so-called plans before shoving it in my tote bag. Okay, I need to cool it. I’m barely breathing. My office, usually a calm, orderly little box I leased in town, feels like the epicenter of pure mayhem, and I have no one but myself to blame.
I should have been working, or at the very least, answering the hundreds of emails that keep piling up by the hour, but no. Instead, I’m having my third meltdown this week. This has to be a record. I got to work this morning to discover ten thousand dollars had been stolen from my bank account.
Ten. Thousand. Dollars.
I almost had a fucking heart attack.
Panic, confusion, and nausea hit me all at once, but then, clarity finally crept in, and everything started flooding back to me. It was me. I was the thief. On a reckless whim, in the midst of last night's existential crisis, I’d bought a fucking cruise to the Bahamas. A full-on, sun-soaked, overpriced, luxurious escape for one. The problem? It leaves tonight, and I live in the snowy mountains. I’d need to catch a last-minute flight if I’m going to make it there on time. I’ve been frantically calling the cruise line all morning trying to cancel and get a refund, and yes, they laughed at how many times I tried. Each time, they firmly denied my request because apparently, I missed the cut-off. Booking last-minute forfeits the cut-off period, according to their manager, and nothing more can be done.
After I book my flight, mortified at how expensive flights are this time of year, I dial Shiloh back. There is no way that I can let this kind of money go to waste. To evaporate into nothingness. I have no option but to go.
My phone is pressed to my ear as Shiloh answers. “So, what’s the verdict?” she asks. Shiloh would have to be the most relentlessly upbeat person with a hangover I have ever met. I sigh, rubbing my temple and ignoring the headache threatening to split my skull.
“No go. They won’t refund me. Unless you want it, going is my only option,” I say, deflated.
“Oh no, I amnotgoing. I don’t need a vacation, babe. Drunk you booked this so that sober you could appreciate the much needed down time. Be excited! You're going to the Bahamas, baby!”
“That’s the thing,” I say, locking the door to my office before turning toward my car. “I don’t have time for downtime. I have eight projects on the go that, a month ago, I was basically begging for. This work will not go away on its own. On top of all that, I have to find a sitter for Dutchess.”
“Oh, don’t worry about a sitter. We can take care of her. Phoenix and I have been begging to get a cat, anyway. This can be our practice run. Let me know how else I can help. Lady Death will survive another week and a bit without me,” she says, like it’s no big deal. “I have an assistant, babe. You don’t. Let me at least be your point of contact until you get back. I don’t want you to take work with you. Otherwise, you’ll be stressing in the middle of the ocean and ignoring every opportunity to get laid, which would be a waste of thousands of dollars.”
“I don't need to get laid, Shiloh! God, I cannot believe I did this,” I mutter, unlocking my car.
“I’mgladyou did this! Oh, and probably don’t tell the guys you’re going on your own. They’ll lose their shit,” she adds. Maybe I should tell them. Maybe that can of worms is exactly what I need to stop myself from leaving the mountain of work I have behind.
“Where are you?” I ask, although I already know she is on her way because that’s just Shiloh. She’s going to make sure I get on that fucking boat.
“I’m at your apartment now. I’ll see you when you get here. Also, I’ve brought a bunch of outfits for you. Just in case. Love you!” The line goes dead before I can protest. I stare at my phone for a moment, then toss it onto the passenger seat and start the car. My stomach is in knots. I managed to throw together an itinerary and sort of a game plan, so that I won't be wandering around like a lost tourist when I arrive, though it’s not nearly as polished or efficient as I would have liked, but at least it’s something.
When I get to my apartment, Shiloh is lying on my bed beside my half-packed suitcase and a bunch of clothes she's already put together for me. She’s even gone as far as to pack a little bag for Dutchess. Speaking of, my fluffy cat, looking every bit the innocent Ragdoll she is, brushes against my leg,purring insistently. I scoop her up and bury my face in her soft fur, feeling the warmth and weight of her against me. Dutchess stretches, curling around my arms, putting cat hair literally everywhere. I glance at Shiloh, who’s grinning from ear to ear.
“She’ll be fine! I’ve already texted Phoenix. He’s going to cat-proof the cabin. You have nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know that?” I say, giving Dutchess another cuddle before I race into the bathroom to get ready.
“It’s no trouble, I promise,” she says, following me into the bathroom. “Here,” she says, and I turn to see that she’s holding out an outfit. I gaze at the pile of clothes in her hand, then back up to meet her eyes. “You haven't worn this in forever. Hurry up!” she orders, before spinning on her heels and walking back out to pack the rest of my luggage.
“I’ve never had anyone wait on me like this before!” I yell nervously from the bathroom.
“That’s because you never let anyone!” she shouts back, and I can’t argue with that. It’s a strange feeling, I won’t lie, but I don’t have time to argue about it.
“My flight leaves in an hour and a half!”
“Then we'd better get moving! I’ve got your bags, don’t worry. Just get ready and meet me down there. Phoenix just said that Axl is headed over to pick up Dutchess. And no. I didn’t tell them the details. I'll leave that with you.” Before I can respond, the sound of my apartment door slams shut, and I sigh. What the hell is happening? I’ve never been so fussed over in my life. Though now that I think about it, I’ve never put myself in a position where I needed to rely on anyone. It’s not the best feeling I’ve had, but I don’t have much of a choice, at the moment. Not unless I want to say goodbye to ten thousand dollars. Money I would have spent to keep Perfect Match running smoothly.
After my shower, I throw on the outfit Shiloh set aside for me, something I forgot I had, and put on some makeup. I fiddle with my newly bleached, blonde hair, which spills down over my shoulders in loose, carefree waves. The opposite of what I feel on the inside, but it passes. I race out of the bathroom and say goodbye to Dutchess, before taking the elevator down to the underground parking lot.
Shiloh is waiting for me, rock music blaring from her black Audi R8, and I almost laugh out loud because I don’t know how she managed to fit my luggage in that thing. If there’s a will, there’s a way, I suppose.
By the time we make it to the airport and navigate the chaotic check-in, I have about eleven minutes to spare. Shiloh refuses to leave me until she sees me board the plane, because apparently she doesn't trust that I’ll actually follow through with this. She basically pried my laptop from my hands, but I know that she’ll need it to manage my emails and any client matters while I’m gone.
