SEQUEL TO EXPECTATIONS!
It is highly recommended to read the first book before starting this one.
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It's a funny thing, expectation versus reality. Expectation lives somewhere on the border of your biggest dreams or your worst nightmares...
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A new wave of nausea hits me as the wheels skid against the runway, the reality of being home and what's to come sinking in.
When the jet lands on the runway and comes to a complete stop, I let go of Joslyn's hand and we unbuckle our seatbelts. An attendant grabs her suitcase and we file out of the small private jet and onto the asphalt.
About a hundred yards away, I spot my assistant, Daniel, pulling up with my car like I asked. Before we left Nashville, I texted him and requested that he bring my car to the airport, wanting to drive home myself instead of depending on a driver. The less people who know about my whereabouts the better.
Daniel parks my black Corvette and hops out, leaving the driver's side door open for me to slip in. He jogs up to the attendant and takes Joslyn's suitcase, and then he ushers Joslyn to the passenger seat. While we both get settled into the car, Daniel places Joslyn's bag in the trunk.
I run my hands over the steering wheel and settle back into the black leather seat. Taking in a deep breath, getting a small whiff of the still new car smell, I buckle up and take a quick peek at Joslyn who's already buckled up in the passenger seat. She looks nervous and out of place, probably worried if I should be driving such a powerful car in my state. Regardless, she doesn't say anything, keeping her hands tightly clasped in her lap as she faces forward.
Truthfully, I would probably be worried if I were her too, so I can't blame her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was a complete mess, but I've had about two hours on the plane to try to get my shit together. To try to turn off my emotions—something that's harder to do without drugs and alcohol in my system.
I tightly wring my hands on the steering wheel before pressing my foot on the break and then shifting the gearshift to drive. I let my foot off the break and gently press on the gas, driving us away from the airport.
The car ride to my condo is silent, only the rumble of the engine noticeable as the sun sets and dips below the horizon.
When we make it to the city, we hit some traffic, the unsettling noise of all the commotion surrounding us as the car inches along the congested streets. I sneak another quick peek at Joslyn out of the corner of my eye, her face illuminated by all the city lights. She seems deep in thought, looking out the window as she nervously plays with her fingers. It takes everything inside me not to reach for her hand. Instead, I grip my hands tighter around the wheel and uncomfortably shift in my seat, wishing traffic would ease up so we could drive more than five miles per hour and my foot wouldn't have to hover over the break, tapping it every few seconds.
Eventually we pull up next to my old building, Joslyn looking at it expectantly and furrowing her brow in confusion when we pass it, looking over her shoulder at it as we drive further away.
"I don't live there anymore," I inform her gravelly.
"Oh." She faces forward in her seat, nervously fidgeting with her fingers.
