Page 17 of The Best Worst Mistake
Seeing it’s almost five o’clock makes my head spin.
The letter mentioned that our plane takes off first thing tomorrow morning, which means I need to get in touch with Monica now if I’m going to keep this absolutely asinine ball rolling forward.
I could spend hours debating whether or not to go, torturing myself over the decision I have to make, but it would only be a waste of time.
I already know that if there’s a plane taking off tomorrow that’ll bring me closer to another letter, another lost piece of Grant, then I’m going to be on it.
Even if Silas is right there beside me.
Chapter 6
Silas
I laid in bed all morning, staring up at the ceiling, recovering from yet another dream where Jules was pushing me out the open door of my own plane. I’ve been having the same reoccurring nightmare nearly every night leading up to today. Each time I wake up unable to shake the sound of her screaming my name as I fall, before jolting awake from my own voice.
It’s fucking awful.
And I hope it’s not a sign of the way this trip is going to go.
Ornotgo, depending on whether she agrees to board my plane with me tomorrow.
Exhausted by the wait, I twist the cap off a fresh bottle. I had this one shipped in for Dax’s visit from LA. It’s a little game we like to play where I attempt to woo him with the best bottles money can buy. Not because Dax gives a shit about the price tag, but because I know the man enjoys a memorable scotch or bourbon.
I drag a couple of glasses across the bar before splashing a bit into each, then give the bourbon time to breathe.
My mother had this custom lounge area added to my father’s office as an anniversary gift to him over twenty-five years ago. It’s beenmyoffice now for over three years, but it’s still hard to think of it as my own. Some days I can practically feel the ghost of my father breathing down my neck when I start to slack off. Which rarely happens now.
I glance at my watch. It’s half past five. I should have heard from her by now.
My anxiety is interrupted by a twanging metal sound. The dart Dax just threw has bounced off the target and slid to a stop near my shoe.
I eye the dart then him.
He smirks, his hand frozen above his shoulder from taking poor aim, and I half wonder if he did that on purpose just to pull me out of my head.
We’re playing another little game we like to play calledDax Pretends He Can Beat Me at Darts.
“What do you mean Raven broke things off with you because of a dream?” he asks, like he can’t believe that would actually happen.
I ignore the question and hand him one of the glasses I’ve just poured, waiting for him to take a sip so I can see if he likes it.
“1982 Buffalo Trace,” I tell him. “I may have found the Holy Grail with this one.”
Dax takes a sip then whistles like he’s just had a little taste of heaven, and I make a mental note to send the bottle back home to LA with him tomorrow, then ship the only case left in existence to his house after he gets there.
“That’s amazing,” he says, picking up the bottle to inspect it. “There’s no bite.”
“It’s yours,” I tell him. “Abby will love it.” I add that last part just to see him smile the way he does whenever Abby’s name comes up in conversation. It doesn’t disappoint. Dax’s whole face softens at the mere mention of her.
“I can’t take that home with me.” He shakes his head. “I’m guessing it cost more than I make in a year?”
I scoff. “Hardly. I’d never let you make so little.”
He chuckles and sets the bottle down. He’s not only the managing partner who handles all my mergers and acquisitions, he’s been one of my best friends since Grant and I met him back at Fox Glenn. Dax and Ryeson were roommates across the hall from us that very first year of boarding school but the four of us were inseparable every year after.
“So, what’s this dream that Raven was suspicious of?” he asks. “I find it hard to believe that anyone would break up with the infamous Silas Davenport over a stupid dream.” He eyeballs me like there’s more to the story than I’m telling him. “Unless there was a deeper meaning behind it.”
“Wrong again. No deep meaning behind it, and Raven was not your typical girl. Although, I suppose it might shake any woman’s confidence to have your boyfriend waking up almost every morning in a cold sweat while babbling on about the girl he’s going to travel with, right?”
