Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Another splash, this time from the other side of the aircraft.
“And we don’t even have a door to float on. Well, there’s nothing like living out your favorite movie, right?” I forced a shaky grin.
“You’ve got jokes. Nice.”
The plane pitched forward, nose-down, and my feet slipped as people shrieked around us, sliding into the water.
“Shit!” Nate’s hand tightened like a vise as I skidded toward the edge, and he yanked me back, wrapping his arm around my side.
Pain exploded from behind my ribs, and I gasped at the intensity as it washed over me, raw and sharp.
“Got you! Now let’s get off this thing!” He edged us toward the back of the wing, which rose abruptly as the plane leaned into the water, the fuselage groaning like a dying man as water devoured the front doors and started marching up the windows. “We’re jumping,” he said, holding my hand between us and facing the shore. “Ready?”
“Ready.” I swallowed, bracing for the icy welcome of the water beneath us.
“On three.” He looked at me and then our landing zone. “One.”
“Two,” I continued.
The plane gave a death gasp and rattled as it plunged into the river, picking up speed. “Three,” Nate rushed.
We jumped.
CHAPTER FIVE
IZZY
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 2021
It had to be the altitude, right? That was why I couldn’t seem to get a deep breath, to take in enough air to relieve the burning sensation growing in my chest. It had nothing to do with him.
Liar.
Out of the billion scenarios I’d pictured over the years when it came to seeing Nate again, this wasn’t one of them. I’d imagined him showing up at my door on some rainy night, or even marching into my office in DC to tell me I couldn’t marry Jeremy. Fine, that scenario was far fetched, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t run through my brain a time or two.
I twisted the gaudy, heavy ring around my finger with my thumb and paced the length of my suite.
Nate was here. The man I used to consider my soulmate was in the same city—the same building. My pulse skyrocketed, and I clamped down on every instinct that told me to hunt him down and either scream at him for what he’d put me through or hug him so tight neither of us would be able to breathe. Maybe both.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Jeremy.
Shit, he was still on the phone.
“I’m here.” I shook my head and looked out the window, taking in the view of the embassy’s courtyard, hoping for a glimpse of Nate . . . if he was even out there.
He’d shown me to my suite with a brusque civility that suggested he wanted to get as far away from me as possible. Not surprising, given the last three years.
“Look, I said I was sorry—”
My thoughts muffled the rest of Jeremy’s excuses.
There were some things that even apologies couldn’t fix.
“I said I needed some time.” I sagged into the oversize armchair that flanked the seating arrangement in the living room.
“You didn’t say that you were going halfway around the world for Lauren! You and I both know that was supposed to be Newcastle on that flight,” he snapped. “Look, if you needed some time to . . .” There was an audible swallow on the other line. “Come to a decision, then you could have done that from DC or gone to Serena’s place—”
Serena. A whole new wave of nausea washed over me, so thick I could taste its bitter coating on my tongue. “Look, Jer, being here has nothing to do with you and your choices, just me and mine. If you’d even remotely paid attention to what I’d been telling you for the past six weeks . . .” I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows and huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. “Then again, you’ve been juggling a few things, haven’t you?” I looked around for a clock. Eight sixteen p.m. here, and the jet lag was kicking my ass. My body didn’t care what time it really was as long as I let it sleep, but my brain knew I needed to adjust as quickly as possible, and an early bedtime wouldn’t help.
“Look, we’ve both been busy with work, Isa. Just . . . let’s talk this out like mature adults.” His condescending tone stiffened my spine.
“I’m not ready to talk it out.” Three knocks sounded at my door. “Someone’s here.” I stood and made my way toward the door.
“Let me guess? Ben Holt is there to soothe all your feelings?” Jeremy fired back. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“We are absolutely done with this conversation.” My voice rose, and I threw open the door with about as much grace as a drunken llama. It slammed into the doorstop and bounced back. A broad hand flew out and caught it before it could smack me in the hip . . . a hand attached to a tattooed forearm I knew as well as my own.