When He Became Mine | COMPLETE

Chapter 5

Jason's POV

One year later

One year. One fucking year since Keira left the US and moved to London, England for some time alone. She didn't bother to call or contact anyone. I used to ask Caleb all the time during the first three months if he or anyone else in his family had heard anything from her. The answer was always no, and I'm better sure if I asked Caleb about it again the answer would still be no. Sure, I tried to contact her myself by leaving emails in her inbox, but I gave up after two months of spending the same damn message over and over again: "Katie, please talk to me."

My parents took the news of Keira's leaving much better than I did. My father simply shrugged and said if that's what she wanted, who were we to stop her? Then he told me that there were more fish in the pond and that losing Keira was the end of the world. My mother was happy with Keira's decision, but she made blueberry pancakes for a week before I had to tell her I was perfectly fine with it all and I would see her again someday.

At least I hope I would.

"Meyer!"

I groaned at the familiar bark belonging to my boss, looking up and away from my computer screen. "Yes, Mr. Field?" I asked politely.

"I need someone to take over for Brandon," Mr. Field said matter-of-factly. "Apparently he broke his leg slipping on his son's skateboard or something and called to say he won't be able to come for work for a couple of days. He was supposed to catch a flight this morning for an article he was working on and obviously couldn't make it."

I blinked. "I'm sure I can find someone to replace—"

"Meyer, Meyer, Meyer." Mr. Field sighed and shook his head, drumming his fingers on the wall of my work cubicle. "When I said someone, I meant you."

"But, sir, I'm just a sports journalist. I don't know anything about public events or performing arts."

Mr. Field waved his hand. "You write well, don't you?"

"Well, sure, I guess, but—"

"Then you can easily write an article on a performing arts event. It's like sports only art and galas and stuff like that."

"I still have this article I finished," I protested, gesturing to my computer screen. I really didn't want to fly to some city to see a ballet or sit through a boring dinner with a governor or someone equally important.

Mr. Field rolled his eyes. "Already taken care of," he said. "I'm having Peterson finish it for you once he's done with his assignment."

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, knowing full well I wasn't going to get out of this one. I dreaded doing the assignment already, and I didn't even know what I was going to be reporting on or where I was supposed to go. "So where do I go for this article anyway?" I asked slowly, reluctantly agreeing to do what I was told.

Mr. Field smiled in satisfaction with my answer. "London, England."

"Sounds great, Mr. Field," I said dryly.

My boss left me to finish my work and book a flight and hotel room. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of spending a month or so in another country just to write about some damn musical event or whatever it was that was happening, but the thought of actually going to a different place other than the typical trips to New York and back to Connecticut was kind of exciting. I mean, I've never been to London before.

Wait.

Did he say London, England? As in, the city Keira moved to a year ago?

Crap.