Page 8 of Scandal
“Oh, um…yes,” I manage to say, without too much embarrassment.
She seems pleased with my answer and disappears back into the first-class galley.
I stretch my legs out, and I mean all the way out. This seat is insane. I’ve never flown first class on an international flight before, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to go back to regular coach without a few tears in my eyes. But the upgrade was a gift from Hendrix.
I think he felt a little guilty about sending his sister to retrieve his missing band member.
But either way, I’m enjoying the hell out of it.
I would probably be enjoying it more if I were sleeping.
I look out the window, but all I see is an endless black sky. We’re somewhere between Los Angeles and Heathrow, and I’ve lost track of how many hours it’s been. Six? Seven?
All I know is that little plane on my screen has a long way to go.
“Here’s your tea, miss.”
I was expecting just a disposable cup of hot water with a tea bag. Instead, I receive VIP service. A tray appears with a pot of steaming hot water, a delicate ceramic cup, and a small tray holding tea bags and sugar. She places a folded cloth napkin beside it and asks, “Milk or lemon?”
I shake my head. “No, just plain. Thank you.”
She nods and moves on to check on someone else. I flip through my tea options and choose chamomile. Maybe it will finally help me fall asleep. It’s worth a try, at least.
I pour water over the tea bag, and while it’s steeping, I open my laptop again. Thanks to my brother’s generosity and my first-class ticket, I have free Wi-Fi and decide to make the most of it.
First things first. I review my travel plans to ensure my car service is still reserved and my hotel reservation is confirmed.
Once that’s taken care of, I take a sip of tea and almost burn my tongue.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath and set the cup down to cool.
Letting out a deep breath, I stare at the search bar on my laptop. It blinks back at me impatiently.
Mockingly.
This trip is not off to a great start. I can’t fall asleep. I’m barely prepared, and now I have a burned tongue.
Why am I even doing this?
Oh right. Because my mom said the one thing that made me unable to say no.
I march into my parents’ room, hand on my hip and lungs heaving because I ran upstairs like my ass was on fire.Probably a sign I should make better use of the gym in my apartment complex.
My mom is lying in bed. Her silver-blonde hair is loose, and she’s tucked under the navy-blue comforter, reading a book about?—
“Is that a romance?”
She nods. “Your sister recommended it to me. Something about vampires in kilts?”
“You’re reading a vampire romance?”
She shrugs. “Seemed kind of sexy.”
My face contorts. “Ew. No. Thanks to you, I can’t use the restroom at the bar anymore. Please don’t ruin romance novels for me too. They’re my only hobby.” She laughs and pats the bed, placing her book on the side table. I silently walk over and plop down next to her but manage to steal the throw blanket she has draped over the bench at the foot of the bed before I do.
I wrap myself up in it before I say, “You don’t seem particularly surprised to see me here.”
“I’m not.”
