April
It was as simple as that.
I hadn’t been looking forward to the conversation with Jason, but I knew it had to happen. And he’d been surprisingly cool about it. Not that big of a surprise—so far he’d struck me as the impossibly composed type, unflappable to a T. What did I think would happen, that he’d freak out on me, or drop to his knees and declare his undying love?
No—that wasn’t Jason Ryder. He’d seemed a touch taken aback that I’d brought it up so bluntly, but other than that, he’d been right there with me. We’d hooked up, and that’s all it would be.
But was that what I’d really wanted?
What you want doesn’t matter. You don’t want to be spying on your boss, you don’t want you and your brother’s lives to be on the line. But that’s the situation, and you’re going to have to deal with it.
“OK!” said Willa, standing at the base of the stairs with her animal-print suitcase. “Ready to go!”
“You’ve got pants?”
“Check!”
“Shirts?”
“Check!”
“Underwear?”
She laughed, as if the idea of underwear in and of itself was funny to her.
“Double-check! And what about you?”
“I’m good to go, kiddo. You excited?”
“So excited.” She hurried over to where I sat at the kitchen bar.
Jason entered the kitchen, dressed in his usual semi-casual outfit of a crisp, white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, along with a pair of light gray slacks and polished black loafers.
My eyes lingered on him for several moments before I came to my senses.
“You girls ready?”
“Yeah!” exclaimed Willa. “And Dad, can we go to the natural history museum there? It’s like the museum here where they’ve got lots of cool animal stuff. Oh! And there’re tons of really neat parks and…”
“We can talk about that on the way there.” Jason stepped over to Willa and scooped her up, Willa laughing happily and throwing her arms around his neck. “And we’re going to have to see how you deal with the jetlag, Sprout.”
Jason set down Willa before taking his phone out of his pocket and checking the screen. “Car’s here. Let’s get a move on.”
We grabbed our bags—Jason taking mine without saying a word—and loaded them up in the trunk of the black Mercedes that awaited us outside the house.
It was all so strange. There I was, with Jason and Willa, the three of us getting ready to fly out of the country like we were some random well-to-do Upper West Side family. But the situation between us was anything but that. Willa went on about all the things she wanted to do in London, and as we climbed into the car, all I could think about was what it would all look like between us once the shit hit the fan.
And the shit would hit the fan. It was only a matter of time.
We were soon off, the driver taking us out of the city and to some private airfield farther east in Long Island. The car drove directly onto the airfield, where a sleek, futuristic-looking jet awaited us, a movable staircase leading to an open door.
“That’s your private plane?” I asked in disbelief.
“Isn’t it cool?” asked Willa. “Dad said they made is especially for him.”
“Just something to get from A to B,” said Jason, as though he were describing a sensible economy car that he’d picked up used.
We got out, and the driver loaded the bags into the plane. Jason led me and Willa up the stairs, and as soon as we crossed into the plane, my jaw nearly hit the damn floor.