Page 3 of Fractured
He replies: “No problem. But we need to talk once we get to the hotel.”
The pit in my stomach grows a little larger. We haven’t even left the ground and already this trip is so fucked up.
The rest of the ride is quiet until we arrive at the gate and pull up alongside the jet. My father and I start up the stairs as James and Carlos get out and start hauling the luggage onto the plane. Janice, our long-time flight attendant, greets us and we proceed to the seats in the cabin's main.
Six cream leather seats are in the first section. The middle section is more like a living room, with a couch and loveseat, a large screen TV, and a small glass and chrome coffee table in the center. The back half of the plane is a small, well-equipped bedroom with a full bathroom.
My father takes the leather seat across from me, putting his briefcase on the empty seat beside him. Carlos and James enter the plane and Carlos walks past us to the loveseat. He’s on his phone, scrolling. My eyes are burning and my head is throbbing from lack of sleep.
I don’t even recognize myself anymore, let alone the absurdity of my life in the last week. My God, it’s only been what, three days since she came into my life. I cringe and rub my tired eyes with my hand.
How am I going to survive a lifetime with this woman? Before her, my days had structure. I fucked, I ran my club. Now I’m chasing a woman all over the place, trying to make it througha meal at the same table. I haven’t fucked anyone in a week and my dick constantly reminds me of the fact.
Anna’s lost her mind completely over Isabella, and I keep thinking about what she said at the lab.
"If Isabella goes home, she’ll never come back". Anna said it wasn't Isabella's father’s house, and it is definitely not mine. If it were, I wouldn’t have to lock Isabella in her room. So where is this home she is drivelling on about?
I take my phone out of my pocket to check the time. It’s eleven. I open up my app, pull the feed, and click on her monitor. She is still sitting on the damn couch looking at those flowers. It’s been over an hour and she still hasn’t moved.
I zoom in on her hands. She’s still picking her finger. I sigh and curl my finger over my mouth, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair, watching her. Pick, blink, pick, blink.
I puff out a breath and rub my forehead out of irritation. My chest is heavy like there’s pressure on it, or in it... something’s fucking going on because it’s not getting better. Since our talk this morning, it really hasn’t left, and every time I see her sitting there, it gets worse.
“Go to the back and sleep once we are up in the air. I need you focused. You’re exhausted.” My father’s deep voice shakes me away from my phone. I click it off, putting it back in my pocket.
“Yeah, I could use a few hours.” It had been a long night. I adjust my seat, leaning back and looking out the window. The ding for the fasten your seat belt sign blinks on. As the G’s force me back into my seat, the engine roars and the pull on my chest becomes stronger. I rub the offending spot on my sternum, but the pressure doesn’t go away.
We level off, and the seatbelt sign goes out. Taking off my seat belt and head to the bedroom. I nod at Carlos, who is typing quickly on his phone, his face as red as a beat, as he nods back. I open the door and remove my tie.
I put my suit jacket on the chair and take a seat at the foot of the bed. I remove my shoes. My shirt and pants are the next and I toss them on top of the chair.
I yank back the covers and face plant on the pillow like a starfish
I’ve never been so exhausted in my life, and I’ve spent quite a few nights partying my ass off for days, but nothing compares to this week. One week with her in my life and I feel like I’m ninety instead of thirty-six.
I close my eyes and the image of her sad green eyes, the constant pick, pick of her thumb against her red, swollen finger, comes back to me. Clenching my teeth I rub my face against my pillow, attempting to dispel the image. I need to sleep; once we arrive, I’ll worry about her then. I’ll deal with them all, Anna, Carlos, Danny. I groan.
Fuck, I’m so tired.
A loud knock on the door slowly brings me out of my coma. Carlos opens the door. “Fifteen minutes till we land. Better get dressed.”
I roll over and look at the ceiling. I needed a nap, but now I feel hungover. Like I partied all night, except this wasn’t the fun kind. I rub my face with my hands, flopping them on the bed, letting them bounce.
Groaning, and rolling over on the side of the bed, sitting up. I rub my face again and then head to the bathroom. Splashing some water on my face and finger-combing my bedhead. I don’t look my best, but there is nothing arranged for tonight other than meeting my father, so I can shower at the hotel.
I get dressed and head out to take my seat across from my father. He is packing up his papers; I feel like shit cause he’s been working while I’ve been sleeping. I’m supposed to be on top of my game; not napping because my fiancé decided to run away, and I had to chase her all night.
“Feel better?” My father asks, not looking up from his window.
I mumbled, “Yeah, sorry about that. It was a long night.”
“I’ve had a few of them myself.” One side of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he buckles his seatbelt.
“Once we reach the hotel, I need you to clean up and meet me in my room. We have a lot to discuss.”
“Agreed. I have quite a bit to tell you myself.” I look out the window.
As the plane begins its descent, I look over at Carlos. He’s watching out the window, his face tense with concern.
