Page 16 of The Plus One Contract

“Okay, hear me out. He wanted more than you could give. He was ready for commitment, but you were too focused on your career, your independence. You had to let him go, even though you loved him.”

I narrow my eyes. “They think that’s what happened with Daniel, so I guess it could work, but doesn’t it make me sound like the asshole?”

“An empowered asshole,” she insists. “You didn't settle.”

“Fine. I ended it because I refuse to settle for a man who doesn't worship the ground I walk on.”

“That's my girl,” she says, before grabbing an oversized coffee from the cup holder and shoving it into my hands. “Here. Stay caffeinated. Call me when you land.”

I blink down at it. “Wait, where did this come from?”

“Elijah and I grabbed it for you before I picked you up.”

I stare at the coffee, suddenly emotional. “Your boyfriend is way too good. I don't deserve you.”

“No, you definitely don’t.”

We laugh, and for a moment, the ache in my chest eases. Then I glance down at my phone, seeing a text my mother sent me yesterday, still unread, reminding me she’s having a family dinner when I arrive.

I would fling my hands, but everything is still sore in the best ways, and those muscle aches only remind me ofhim.

Nathan wasn't supposed to matter. Last night was supposed to be uncomplicated. Which it is, I guess. I left because I needed to. We both got what we wanted out of the night. It should end there. So should my thoughts about him. We’ll never see each other again. Yet, there’s that intrigue he carried so well knocking somewhere in my chest, eager to learn more, and now I'm boarding a flight home feeling even more emotionally tangled than before.

“I messed up, didn't I?” I mumble, mostly to myself.

Harper pats my arm. “It’s not that bad. So you had amazing sex with a gorgeous stranger. It could be worse.”

“Could it, though?” I raise a skeptical brow.

“You could have ended up with the pet-lizard guy again.”

I laugh a little too loudly, drawing curious looks from nearby travelers. “Okay, fair point.”

She pulls me into one last tight hug. “Text me the second you survive your mother's interrogation.”

“Will do,” I promise, reluctantly letting her go.

She steps back, giving me another teasing once-over. “And maybe freshen up before you face your family. You're still rocking that freshly railed look.”

I smack her arm. “I hate you.”

She waves as she climbs back into the car. “Love you too.”

Nine

Idrag my suitcase up to the check-in desk, chugging my coffee like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the living.

Which, honestly? It might be.

Harper was right. I do look like a corpse. Actually, a corpse might look more alive at this point.

The airline agent, a woman in her mid-forties with kind eyes and the expression of someone who has seen some shit, takes one look at me, tilts her head, and softens.

“Oh, honey,” she says gently. “Are you traveling for a funeral?”

I blink, completely blanking for a second.

She thinks I’m going to a funeral.

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