Page 2 of Miles Apart
My phone pings with a text that pulls a smile at theSister, Sistermelody. No matter the years that pass—twenty, in our case—my best friend always checks in to make sure I’m okay. I don’t tolerate many people in my life, but Justice will never not be my person.
Justice
Hey, about to order room service for breakfast. Want anything?
A room service attendant smiles at my nod and stops in front of a door across the hall. The scent of eggs and French toast wafts from plates on the cart. Breakfast does sound good.
I shift my overnight bag on my shoulder to type out a message to Justice I’ll be up to our suite soon. Unlike the standard rooms, ours has two bedrooms, one on each side of the wide living space. There’s a fireplace and jacuzzi on the balcony with views of the surrounding valley. It’s rich in luxury and knotted wood flooring.
Hey, hon.
Another message appears once I hit send, stuttering my silent walk over plush carpeting to the elevator. My jaw tightens at the name on the screen, one that paints my cheeks the same color as my manicure.
Carter Davis.
Carter
You can’t ignore me forever.
The hell I can’t.
Doesn’t he have more important matters? A press conference? The rider that guarantees my father’s favorite almond brand will be at his next event? Annoying Senator Douglass’s daughter is not on his congressional to-do list, I’m sure.
I flip back to the text with Justice in a huff. The problem with a twenty-year friendship is that will see right through any attempt to act normal, and she will push for answers. It’s in her nature to care, the same way it is to hug for no damn reason. I’ll handle Carter myself. This week is about Justice, not me. She went through too much for me to pile on my mess.
In less than twenty-four hours, we discovered the estranged husband she left seven months ago is at this retreat, which I picked for our annual girls’ trip. She needed time away from drowning herself in work as a distraction from her separation, to meet new people and decide if divorce is what she really wants. Clearly, her ex is wasting no time getting back in the game.
Our trip comes with a week’s worth of activities I’d choose a colonoscopy over doing, but if snowmobiling and horseback riding put a smile on Jay’s face, I’ll grit my teeth. I slipped in a spa day and a whiskey tasting to lower her guard. Speed dating and the private date that comes with it will be a tough sell, but Justice will survive.
Carter
Call me. You have ten minutes.
This asshole.
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath.Why do you fight us?Carter’s words in my father’s study last Thanksgiving play on a loop. The way he whispered them while my mother argued withthe kitchen staff about cranberry sauce in the hall still makes me shiver. How his hand crept up my arm to trace his thumb against my throat. He’s always been an arrogant prick, but he never touched me. Not like that.
I don’t mind a man who takes charge, but I prefer him not to have an affiliation with my family. My mother’s constant reminders that I’m not living up to our family legacy and am wasting away my “childbearing years” are bad enough. They’re the reason I keep myself on the opposite side of the country, with good weather, a lucrative fashion career, and access to all the dick I want without shame or judgment.
Juliette Douglass would pick out my wedding china tomorrow if Carter was serious about pursuing a relationship. He comes from money, is a loyal lapdog to my father, and is the only one in her eyes who could tame me out of my “wild ways.”
My defiance is a declaration of the love I have for myself and the life I create for me. I adore my body, feel empowered by the autonomy to share it, and have no desire to be a mother. It doesn’t make me less than or undesirable.
The elevator doors open to an empty car of mirrored walls. My fingers hover above the button to my floor. I can’t see Justice right now. She’s no stranger to Carter or my family drama, but, given her Terrence sighting, she needs her own space to process without distractions.
Worked up an appetite last night the menu won’t satisfy. See you at lunch.
Let Justice think I’m still in someone’s bed.
Now to deal with Carter.
“Emma.” My name is a taunt on his lips.
“What do you want, Carter?” My sigh travels between time zones and the thin fibers of my patience. This is fucking up my post-coital high.
“Did you lose your manners in the mountains?”
My eyes roll at his chuckle. I don’t need to close them to picture Carter seated in his leather office chair and bespoke suit. His ego matches his six-foot stature. It’s big enough to fill Congress and this restaurant.
