Chapter 11
Harrison
Maybe this is a sign I should head back home.
“Sorry, sir,” Travis says, pulling onto the main road. “Traffic to the airport’s going to be brutal.”
“On Christmas Eve?”
He nods. “Construction. Checked on my way in. I’ve got an alternate route. Adds some time, but we’re good.”
“How much time?”
“Forty minutes, tops.”
At the light, instead of turning right, he cuts left. Which is definitely the long way.
And all I can think is this is the universe tapping me on the shoulder.
Hey, buddy. You sure about this?
But the second I picture my girl, it’s over. I don’t want to see her. I have to see her.
Even if she doesn’t feel the same.
I sit back, trying to relax, as something low and restless wakes up inside me. Not nerves.
Want.
For weeks, I’ve kept a very tight lid on everything I feel for her.
And now?
I’m about to blow. Figuratively and literally.
I shift in my seat, forcing Pix out of my mind because a cold shower isn’t exactly convenient at the moment.
Distracted, I check the app. The secret one Gabe and I installed on Pix’s phone.
A tracker Pix has no idea about.
I think of it less as stalking and more like scrolling her Instagram… in real time.
So what if I know where she is every second of every day.
That’s not possessive.
That’s making sure no stalker bastard get’s close.
I huff out a breath.
Right. Definitely not leading with that.
I tap to the pin.
Pix is still at the studio. No surprise there. She’s been there sunup to sundown every day for weeks. At this point, I’d be shocked if they didn’t start charging her rent.
A tightness creeps up my neck.
What if she hates that I just show up at her place of work?
Wouldn’t I hate it if she showed up, totally unannounced, at mine?
I’d hate it so much, she’d have to make it up to me.
Bent over my desk.
“You alright, sir?”
I blink. “Fine. Why?”
He nods. “You were just making a weird face.”
I smooth out my expression and clear my throat. “How much longer?”
“Almost there. Don’t worry,” he says, taking the off-ramp for Teterboro. “The perks of flying private. The crew will be waiting for you with bells on. No matter when you show up.”
Hopefully Pix will be, too.
Bells optional.
By the time we arrive, the crew is lined up on the tarmac, all polite smiles and crisp uniforms. There’s even a strip of red carpet rolled out.
I swear, Mark gets bougier by the day.
“Good morning, Mr. Evans,” the captain says, offering his hand. “We’re ready whenever you are.”
I shake it. “Thanks for waiting.”
“Of course, sir.”
Travis hands off my luggage and gives a brisk nod. “Enjoy your trip.” There’s a hint of a smirk there. “Have fun,” he insists.
I wonder what that’s about.
I climb the stairs and step in.
For the record, this is not a plane.
It’s a luxury hotel lobby with wings.
Plush leather seats. A low glass table. Big screen monitors tucked into the walls. A fully stocked bar gleaming in the corner.
And… is that a gaming console?
If the kids were here they’d lose their minds.
“I’m Bryn. Can I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks. “Coffee? Something stronger?”
“Coffee,” I say, remembering I still haven’t had a cup yet today.
“Right away.” She disappears, then returns a moment later, setting a steaming cup in front of me—cream, a lineup of sweeteners, even one of those sugar-coated stir sticks.
“Your luggage is loaded. And Mr. Donovan asked me to remind you the rear room is off limits.”
“What room?”
She points to the double doors at the back. “The king suite.”
Mark and Jess’s mile-high club. I huff a laugh. “Noted.”
She rushes off, only to reappear a moment later with a small package.
“This was delivered earlier,” she says, offering it to me. “The pilot signed for it. I believe you were expecting it.”
I take it, my thumb brushing the raised lettering as I glance down.
Well, I’ll be damned.
Sebastian Jewelers
My smile hits before I can stop it. I open the box, and the light lands on the ring, throwing out enough sparkle to light the night’s sky. I picture sliding it onto Pix’s finger.
The engines hum to life as the lights dim. I ease the box shut and pocket it, then lean back, soaking up this rare sliver of quiet.
Once we’re in the air, I close my eyes.
Thump.
My eyes fly open.
“What was that?”
I sit up, listening.
The flight attendant appears almost instantly. “Did you need anything, Mr. Evans?”
“No. I—” I shake my head. “I thought I heard something.”
“Sorry, sir. I was just in the galley preparing lunch.” She gestures to the console by my seat. “There are earplugs in your toiletry kit, if that helps at all.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Just press the call button if you need anything.”
She slips away, and I lean my head back again.
Thump-thump.
I try to ignore it. I really do.
But then, faint, muffled—
“You’re going to ruin it.”
“No, I’m not!”
My head whips toward the closed door Mark explicitly told me not to open.
Silence.
A slow, creeping unease crawls up my spine.
Am I losing it?
I’ve been away from my kids for, what, a few hours? And my brain’s already filling the quiet with their voices like a queued up audiobook.
Fantastic.
I close my eyes again.
Deep breath in.
Slow exhale out.
Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.
Okay, no. I definitely did not imagine that.
Or the laughter.
Or the frantic shushing.
Oh… they better not be—
I stalk to the back of the plane, grab both handles of Mark’s so-called love shack, and throw the doors open.
And my eyes damn near fall out of my head.
Connor?
Ollie?
They freeze like they’ve just tripped a silent alarm at Fort Knox.
Slowly, very slowly, my gaze sweeps the absurdly large, absurdly luxurious room. What the—
Then my eyes land on a suspicious lump in the middle of the bed.
Right.
I cross my arms. “Too bad Snooki’s not here. We could all go get ice cream.”
Snooki launches out from under the covers like a missile. “I want ice cream!”
The bathroom door cracks open.
Mrs. D. peeks out… then promptly shuts it again.
“Too late,” I call.
She then reappears, crosses to the bed, and sits primly beside the kids.
I stare at them.
At all of them. My entire world, stowed away in the back of a private jet like contraband.
And not one seat belt in sight.
I plant my hands on my hips. “Explain.”
The first to feel my gaze is Mrs. D.
She folds instantly. “I was kidnapped,” she says, clutching invisible pearls.
I drag a hand down my face, then shift my attention to Ollie.
He huffs. “We couldn’t let you go halfway across the world alone.”
“For the record,” I mutter, “the West Coast is not halfway around the world.”
Next, Snook.
“We want to see Disneyland,” she announces, bright and sweet. Ah, yes. Priorities.
I just raise a brow.
Connor doesn’t meet my gaze, his shoulders slumped. “You said we couldn’t come. End of story. You didn’t even let us vote.”
“So you stowed away?”
Snooki’s puppy dog eyes are the death of me. “You need us, daddy.”
So unfair.
My remaining ice around my heart starts chipping away.
I pace in front of them. “I should ground you all,” I say. “Forever.” I point at Mrs. D. “You included.”
She presses a hand to her chest. “I am a victim in this.”
The kids snicker under their breath.
Then I stop and square my shoulders. Sternly, I blow out a breath. “You will behave.”
Their heads perk up.
“No touching anything that looks expensive… which is pretty much everything. Nothing gets spilled. Nothing gets broken. And you do not annoy the flight attendant… or the captain. Or so help me, I will turn this plane around, and we will go straight home.”
The kids launch at me before I can say another word, wrapping me in the tightest hug.
Mrs. D. tries to hang back.
I crook a finger at her. “You too, kidnap victim.”
And just like that, I’m not going to California alone.