Page 78 of More than Paper

“I know. It’s killing me, too. I’ll figure this out, I promise.”

“I have to go, Quinn. My meeting is about to start.”

“All right. I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you, too. Bye.” He hangs up.

I sit back against the couch in shock. Jamison has never gotten angry with me about not moving to New York before. He’s been patient over the last few months.

Why am I fighting him on this?

I’m lost in thought, overanalyzing things once more, when my boss fires off four nasty text messages to me, back-to-back, before I can even respond to one of them.

Maybe I am a sucker for punishment. Why am I continuing to stay in this situation when I could have everything I’ve ever wanted with Jamison?

“He hasn’t put a ring on your finger,”my mother’s voice says in my head.

Ugh. Shut up, Mom.

I open my laptop and log into the Internet site where the beta readers I submitted my book to left their feedback. For the next hour, I’m engrossed in their reviews of my book.

There aren’t any bad comments. They are all raving about my story. One reader after another sends me private messages on how impressed they are with my work.

Another two nasty texts come across my phone from my boss, just as one comes in from Jamison.

“I’m sorry, doll. Forgive me for being an ass. I love you,” Jamison writes.

What am I doing? He’s right. I need to choose us.

Grabbing my laptop again, I search for the next flight out of Chicago to New York.

Two hours. I can make that.

I book the ticket, pack a bag, and head out to the airport. It’s only Wednesday, but I’ll surprise him.I have full access to his penthouse. I might as well use it.

* * *

For the firsttime in my entire life, I’m ignoring everything my mother or brother has tried to instill in me. I’m trusting in what I know to be true between Jamison and me.

I don’t need to stay in a job I hate.

I can let him support me. That’s what people in love do, right? They support each other?

Just because my father never committed to my mother and continues to support and buy her with money doesn’t mean that Jamison supporting me financially is the same.

No. What we have is different. It’s real. We’re both committed to each other—only each other.

By the time I get to New York, it’s late. I freshen up in the bathroom, hail a cab, and am soon waiving to Conroy, the guard at the front desk in Jamison’s lobby.

I push my thumb on the screener, walk through the gate, and hit the code inside the elevator.

The door opens to the penthouse, and I wheel my suitcase out. At first, I think I’m alone, or maybe Jamison is sleeping, but then I hear their voices from the kitchen area.

“Your father has crossed the line, V.”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry.”

Darling? Why is she calling my boyfriend darling?

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