Page 70 of Only the Wicked
I’m being an ass, but he’s put me in a bad mood.
* * *
Miles
She still pines for you. But she’d neuter me for saying that.
* * *
I’m glad that he’s still friends with her, but…
* * *
Me
We weren’t right together. You know that, right?
* * *
I cared for Sara, I did. But, we had nothing in common. If I’m honest with myself, we lasted as long as we did because my intense work life allowed me to avoid confrontation at home.
* * *
Miles
In all seriousness, I agree. Plus, at the risk of obliterating your ego, IMO she loves the chase—not you. The moment a guy is into her, she’s over it. If you ever really fell for her, she would’ve dropped you too.
Me
That’s deep Johnson.
Miles
That’s what he said.
* * *
I roll my eyes. I’m sure there’s a story there. He’s set her up on dates or met guys she’s dating. I don’t want to know, so I drop it. Our friendship with Sara is one of our few commonalities these days, which I assume is why he keeps bringing her up.
The plane begins its descent, causing my ears to pop. Sydney blinks and stretches.
I glance out the window. The pristine blues and greens of the Highlands have given way to the geometrical grid of the capital region. Concrete and glass replace the mountains and trees. Where the air in North Carolina carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, even through the plane’s filtered cabin, the approaching cityscape promises exhaust fumes and the metallic tang of ambition. It’s a transition I’ve made countless times, but today it feels particularly jarring—like stepping from a dream back into reality.
I delete the text exchanges, erasing the evidence of my friends’ theories about my love life. The last thing I need is Sydney accidentally seeing Miles’ commentary. I offer the attendant a smile when she enters the cabin.
After she retrieves our drinks, I shift to face Sydney.
“Do you always sleep on planes?”
With a bashful yawn, she says, “No. But this is a smaller plane than I’m usually in. And a much more comfortable seat.”
Her gaze drops to the phone in my hand.
“Checking in on things?”
“No.” I grin, damn proud I’m telling her the truth. “Miles and Daisy don’t count.” She raises a questioning eyebrow, and it’s as if she’s experienced enough with me to call me on my BS. Of course, she doesn’t know that side of me. “My laptop remains secure in its case.”
“Are Miles and Daisy your partners?”
