I hold Ellie in my arms until her eyes close and she’s breathing heavily. It’s no wonder she crashed hard. The last forty-eight hours have beendemanding,so to speak. Yet, in true Ellie fashion, she surprises me with her fearlessness, her resilience, and her buoyancy. Now more than ever, I’m convinced this woman was made specifically for me.
She’s my sanity, and my reason, and my glue. I’m seven broken pieces of a fucked up man, held together solely because of her.
“Sleep, baby.” I kiss her forehead, preparing for whatever danger may come my way.
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” ELLIEasks as we drive down Kalakaua Avenue in Waikiki. The day, like always, is perfect. Tourists fill the streets, the beach is crowded with sunbathers, and the water active with surfers.
“Home. As soon as possible.” A disgusted—not to mention shirtless—Jett answers.
“I said I was sorry,” London grumbles in the fetal position next to him. “The landing was bumpy.”
“The landing wasn’t that bumpy. And I know you’re sorry. It’s not your fault.” Jett pets her head.
I feel sorry for London; she’s miserable. But I wish I had a camera when she threw up on Jett. His face was priceless. I would have blown it up and stuck it on a billboard.
“Where is home, anyway?” Ellie asks with a raised eyebrow.
I lean over her and point out the window to a high rise. “The tallest one.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” she quips.
I grin duplicitously. “Part appearance, part necessity, part selfish desire.”
Ellie rolls her eyes at me. “Is that your excuse for everything?”
“I find it covers all bases,” I reply as we pull onto a side road, and then into an underground garage.
“Good thing we live someplace tropical,” Jett comments as he helps London out of the limousine.
The air is cooler in the garage, but still comfortable enough to get away with limited clothing.
The four of us step into the marble elevator, and I hit the code for PH36. We’re then whooshed up thirty-six floors to the penthouse Jett and I share.
The doors open to a large foyer with colored orchids etched on the mirrors and a light wooden floor. Jett exits with London first and unlocks the front door.
Ellie and I follow close behind.
“Oh.” Ellie does a slow pirouette as we walk through the apartment. “This is . . .” she seems to be at a loss for words.
“Nice?” I answer for her.
“Very.”
The condominium is a split-level with an open floor plan and one hundred, eighty-degree views of Diamond Head, Koolau Mountains, and the Pacific Ocean. Cherry wood frames the two-story French windows encasing the ultra-modern decor. Clean lines and dark accents make it a vast contradiction to the mansion we lived in on the East Coast.
“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house later. We need to check in first.” I take her hand and lead her through the kitchen.
“Bye, Ellie,” London croaks behind us.
“Feel better,” Ellie replies as Jett helps London climb miserably up the stairs.
“I’ll be right there,” Jett tells me.
“I really feel bad for her,” Ellie pouts. “Maybe she has food poisoning?”
“Maybe? I’m sure if she doesn’t start feeling better, Jett will take her to the doctor. He isn’t one to make a woman suffer. At least not in the sickly way.” I wink.
“Seriously, the two of you.”
