I’m sitting on the private plane heading back to New York after one of the shittiest vacations I’ve had in a while. I filled my time with mindless day parties, anxiety-riddled nights, and afternoons where my thoughts wandered in circles with no fixed destination and no epiphany to be had.

Plus, the one time I decided to go to the beach, it rained.

Just a miserable set of weeks.

And then finally,finally, I allowed my pride to bend enough to text Carly again. Nothing much, just to reach out and see if she’s doing okay.

Only to find that the text doesn’t get delivered.

After trying two more times, I conclude that I’m blocked. Which is hilarious.

I’ve been blocked by women before, so it’s not my first rodeo. But usually, I get unblocked within a few hours after they realize I’m not the guy who’s going to go chasing after them, and I will more than likely move on without a single thought.

But something tells me Carly isn’t that quick to forgive.

And it’s already been a few days and she hasn’t unblocked me.

I catch myself checking practically every day now, sending her “hi” texts like an obsessive fucker. And maybe I am obsessed. After all, she’s all I can fucking think about for whatever reason. Even at that yacht party, surrounded by mind-altering drugs and gorgeous women and just about everything a man like me could ask for, promising a night to remember.

I partook in none of that.

Instead, I sat in the corner with wine and sulked after a woman like… like Declan of all people.

I couldn’t even tell you what happened at the party except for the fact that I spent most of the time brooding and thinking about Carly.

Getting pissed because she ruined my plans.

Feeling guilty because I yelled at her.

Feeling ashamed and angry that she now knows my darkest secret and I didn’t get the chance to even prepare her for the reveal.

Not that she looked like she needed preparation. She seemed to take it in stride after getting over the initial shock. But still. I didn’t want her to know. Not like that.

The dirtier part of my mind also keeps bringing me back to that hotel room, where I drove her insane with passion, where she was limp and listlessly looking at me, where I lost myself to her again.

And beyond that, I just fucking miss her company. And I think that’s the worst part of it all. I miss her.

But I’m assuming, to her, this is the end of our agreement and thus our relationship. It should be the end anyway.

But the thought of not seeing her again makes me antsy and miserable.

You shouldn’t be thinking about this.

I look away from my phone and stare out at the endless blue-and-white sky, noting the lights in the far distance below.You should be preparing for the meeting with your grandfather right now.

Gramps texted me a few days ago, saying he wanted to meet up. I almost ignored his text, still mad at the foul stunt he pulled.

But I decided not to be a child about this. He’s likely expecting me to be pissy and avoidant, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

Besides, I still need his help.

And so I gave it a day or two to text him back, then got on the jet headed to New York immediately.

And now I’m realizing that even just being on the plane reminds me of Carly and her first private jet ride. The way her eyes glittered as she took in the interior, the way her hands gripped the chair on the descent and her lips curled upward in excitement.

I sigh.Focus, Micah, Focus.

I don’t know what Grandfather has planned for me today, but I need to prepare myself for another surprise. Best case scenario, it’s going to be a lecture about me learning discernment and how to pick the right woman. Hopefully, it ends there. And hopefully, Carly’s outburst didn’t have him looking too deeply into her past, unraveling the secrets we’ve so painstakingly crafted.