Fly Me to the Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

ear.
    “Are you finished?” I asked, my voice sounding clipped and tight.
    “I’m sorry if you’re hurt. I’m just trying to give you the big picture, that’s all.”
    “Oh, I got the picture,” I said, hoping I sounded strong, practical, and totally in control, despite all evidence to the contrary. “Listen, Michael, I need to stop by and pack up my things.”
    “Done. Your stuff is with the front desk. You can get it anytime.”
    I just sat there with the phone pressed to my ear. After four years he’d already packed me up and reclaimed his space. Just. Like. That.
    “And Llailey, I’m serious about keeping this between us. These are private matters that should remain private.”
    My face grew hot, and my hands began to shake as I grippedthe phone even tighter and used his words against him. “Listen, Michael, I never promised you anything. Let’s just rememher that, okay?” And then I hit END.
    And then I called Clay.

 
    “No wonder the passengers are so nasty when they come on board; it’s all her fault,” Clay said, pointing at the surly gate agent who just moments before had performed an exaggerated eye roll/head shake when he asked if there was an available first-class seat for me.
    “Clay, I’ll be lucky just to get on. Never mind first class,” I said, eyes pinned to the overhead monitor, watching the passenger count rise as the number of empty seats diminished.
    “Well, I’d just like to take this opportunity to point out what a good friend I am. Sitting here holding your hand while I should be working,” he said, crossing his long legs, and inspecting his cuticles.
    “Yeah, and I bet your fellow crew members are just thrilled about it.” I shook my head and focused back on the screen. “Oh great! Did you see that? The numbers just canceled out! That’s it! It’s over! This chair is now my final destination,” I said, dropping my head in my hands.
    It was like, now that I’d made the decision to go to San Juan, I couldn’t stand the idea of
not
going to San Juan. I mean, I was packed and ready for two long, hot, lazy days at the pool with amojito in one hand and my long-abandoned manuscript in the other. And now all I had to look forward to was a never-ending bus ride back to Manhattan, where I would dish out countless tins of Fancy Feast and pore through real estate ads for apartments I could never alford. “This free standby travel is a total scam,” I said, grabbing my bags and preparing to leave.
    “Where you going?” Clay asked, pulling at a hangnail and refusing to budge.
    “Uh, hello? Have you looked at the screen? Nothing but zeros, and that means no seat,
ami go.”
Jeez, his irrational optimism was so annoying.
    “It ain’t over till the door closes.” He smiled lazily. “And it ain’t closing till I’m on board,” he said, patting the seat next to him.
    And wouldn’t you know it, no sooner had I sat back down when an unruly passenger was escorted off the plane. And then over the FA we heard, “Hailey Fane and Clay Stevens, please report to the boarding door immediately.”
     
    I was lounging in a blue leather first-class seat, footrest extended, pillow placed snugly behind my neck while I sipped champagne and flipped through the manuscript I’d started writing over six years ago but had barely glanced at in the last four. And I was thinking,
This is how it should be. Maybe my karma is starting to turn around. Maybe this moment will signal the start of an exciting, new, first-class life. I really should do this more often. I belong in this cabin. . . .
    And then somebody said, “You need to move.”
    I looked up to see that same surly gate agent glaring down at me. Well, obviously she was having a rough morning, so the least I could do was try to make it a little better. “Excuse me?” I said, smiling pleasantly.
    “Don’t argue with me. Just get your belongings and move,” she said, her voice revealing years of nicotine abuse, as her