Page 103 of Serving the Maestro

“Did you get me a flight?” I demanded as soon as the call came over the car’s Bluetooth.

“Yeah.” He yawned sleepily. “I had to barter away almost every favor I currently have in my bag, and I might have agreed to name my firstborn after somebody, but you’re on the next flight heading out of LAX to New York. Last ticket they had, and I hope you’re traveling light.”

“Light?” I laughed. “Hell, I ran out of the house with my phone, keys, and wallet. That’s it.”

“Doesn’t get any lighter.” He was quiet for a minute, then said, “Good luck, buddy. Hope you can work out whatever the hell happened.”

“Me, too. Listen...Avery...something’s going on with her. You’d be wise to cut ties with her if you’re still friendly.”

“You can catch me up to all of that later. She was always more into you than me anyway, so I doubt she’ll even bother with me.” He gave me the airline info and flight time. “You’re cutting it close, but you should make it since you’re not taking any luggage. Hope it works out.”

The call went dead, and I blew out a breath.

“Yeah,” I muttered to the quiet car. “Me, too.”

* * *

I got through security just as they announced final boarding and ran like the demons of hell were at my heels, barely making it.

The attendant gave me a censuring look. “You almost missed it, Mr. Dixson.”

“I’m sorry.” She waved me on with an unimpressed look, and I rushed down the ramp and onto the plane, greeted by another airline employee, a flight attendant who clucked her tongue but offered a playful wink before waving me to my seat.

I held my breath as I boarded, heart pounding as I looked for her.

I hadn’t thought it possible, but Stephen had managed to get me on the same flight as Jazz. I hadn’t realized it until I’d seen the gate info while I was making my mad rush to get here, and it clicked, my memory supplying the info Cam had given me.

As I made my way to my seat, I spotted her, looking out the window, face pale and shadows under her lovely eyes.

The seat next to hers was taken. That was probably a good thing. If Jazz saw me now and raised hell, I might get booted off the plane. Harder to do that mid-flight.

Besides, I’d rather talk to her after my hands had stopped shaking.

It took a good forty-five minutes before that happened.

I downed two soft drinks as I waited for my nerves to settle and the caffeine to kick in. The headache had ebbed some, probably thanks to adrenaline and the over-the-counter painkillers I’d popped on the way out the door.

When the man next to Jazz rose, I closed my eyes. Here goes nothing.

After he exited the bathroom, I met him in the aisle before he could reach his seat.

“Will you exchange seats with me?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“The woman next to you—she’s my girlfriend. We had a fight last night, and she left. She’s going back home to New York, and I’m trying to apologize before she dumps my ass forever.”

He arched a brow, looked me over, and then glanced back at her. “If she left you in California, isn’t that a sign she already dumped your ass?”

“She hasn’t told me to leave her alone yet, so I figure I have a microscopic opening.” I tried to smile, but it fell flat, and I looked at him, not trying to hide my desperation. “Please. I love her. I never really told her how I felt, and I have to try. If she tells me to fuck off, you can have the seat back.”

He gave me another long look, then nodded slowly. “If you give her grief, I’ll tell the flight attendants you’re stalking her ass, got it?”

“Got it.” Shit, I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

We did an awkward shuffle so he could work around me and take my seat, then I went forward and sat next to Jazz.

She was still staring out the window, quiet, dejected, her shoulders slumped.

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