“It was a pleasure having you, Ms. Meyer,” the doorman says as he opens the car door for me. I hand him a tip and a tight smile.
The air-conditioning in the car makes my skin pebble as I look out the cold glass of the limo. My insides hurt. I’m a fool for what I’ve done. But Carson deserves someone stable and healed.
“John Wayne Airport, ma’am?” the driver asks.
“Yes, the private jet entrance, please.”
He nods and puts up the partition.
I grab the phone and dial Vito, our pilot. It won’t be long until I get there, and I want to leave as soon as possible.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Please have everything squared away.”
“Yes, Ms. Meyer. Flight plans have all been submitted and we are wheels up when you board. There is a clear sky this morning. We should be in L.A. at 4 a.m.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Vito. Call ahead to the car service and schedule a pickup. I’ll be going to my parents’ home.”
“Will do. See you soon.”
“Thanks, Vito.”
I end the call and sit back, watching through the window as the beach town disappears. The knot still rages in my stomach. Carson will get over it. It was the right thing.
I hope.
CARSON
I wake up to the sun streaming through the window and the feel of the cool blankets tucked around my legs. I reach across the bed, but all I find is a pillow.
“Bliss?” I say, sitting up in bed and letting the sheet fall down to my waist. I’m still naked from the night before, my clothes in a pile on the floor.
No answer. Maybe she went to get breakfast? I pick up my boxers from the pile and walk into the living room. No sign of her. The bathroom is clear—a little too clear.
None of her products are strewn about the counter. There is no luggage in the closets, no clothes on the floor. My stomach dips. Where the fuck did she go?
I scramble to put on clothes, draping the jacket over my arm, then leave the room behind. I stride down the hall and click the elevator button one time too many.
The elevator dings, and I get in, coming face to face with Grant. He’s carrying two coffees, his face strained with exhaustion.
“Morning. I see you had a fun evening,” he says, smugly.
“Why are you on the penthouse floor?” I ask, ignoring his remark.
“I got on the wrong elevator. I’m so tired I didn’t notice the arrow was pointing up until you got in. Gwen was up all last night, high on wedding cake.”
“Have you seen Bliss?”
His eyebrows furrow. “No, I’d think you of all people would know where she is.”
“When I woke up, she was gone. No luggage, no note.”
“Damn. That’s pretty shitty of her. Want me to see if Royce knows where she is?”
He hands me one of the coffees and gets out his phone, dialing Royce’s number. The conversation is short. He has no idea, either.
“Fuck. She ghosted me.” The pit in my stomach widens into a cavern.
“I’ll ask around. Maybe Desi or Emerson know what happened. Put your number in my phone.”
I take his phone and key in my digits. The elevator dings again, and I hand him his coffee before he steps out. “Call me if you find out anything.” My voice is tight. I will not lose my shit in front of another dude.
“Take care, Carson.” The doors close, and then I’m alone. I can’t believe she left me without saying anything. After all we shared. My heart is too shattered to be angry, but I have to find out why.
Ashton isn’t home when I get back to the apartment. In fact, it looks like he hasn’t been here all night. I try him on his cell, but there is no answer, and I can’t remember the name of the girl he was supposed to be with last night.
As I’m about to leave, my phone beeps. It’s Grant. I hope he has something for me. My chest aches at the thought of her leaving and my never being able to find her again.
G: I know where she is.
Me: Where?
G: She flew back to L.A. early this morning on her parents’ jet. She’s gone home.
My grip on the phone loosens before I recover and have it smack onto the floor.She went home to L.A.—the one place I said I’d never go again.
G: You there?
Me: Yeah, sorry. It’s just not what I expected, which is weird because she lives there. Of course, she’d go home.
G: Royce said she’s going to some gala. His parents aren’t attending and she said she’d go to represent the family. This could be your second chance.
Me: I don’t know if I can. L.A. is—
I can’t finish the sentence. All the pain that I’ve smashed down inside of me comes floating to the top. It’s all too much.
G: I get it. Sometimes the past is too hard to face in order to move forward, but think of Bliss. Is she worth it?
I pause before answering. Silence stretches on around me for a little more than is comfortable. How can I express what she means to me after only this short amount of time?
Me: Yeah, she is.
Putting my phone into my pocket, I grab my keys and text Ashton on the way to my car. Seems like I’m going home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CARSON
I pull up to the gate of my childhood home and stare at the driveway. The house isn’t visible from here, but the slow curve of the road is familiar. The promise of never coming back here sticks to the back of my throat, but I think of Bliss and what she means to me.
I press the call button.
“Hello, who may I ask is calling?” the voice on the speaker box says.
“Harris, it’s me.”
I wait for shocked words or even a tsk of disappointment, but all
