Scarlett
C laire - S carlettt . Why aren’t you answering any of my calls? Claire- Look, I know you’re busy but
I’m your sister. I need to be in the loop. Especially with all these photos circulating. They’re not true
right? Claire- Scarlett! Engaged!? WHAT is going on? Claire- Please call me. I’m not angry.
Just... disappointed. Maybe confused is a better word for it. Claire- OKAY, NOW I’M REALLY
CONFUSED! What is with the new photos!? Scarlett. You HAVE to call me. Sigh. I understand her
concern. And I get that I’m kind of a crappy sister for not ke eping her in the loop. But also, I can’t deal
with it right now. And I shouldn’t have to. I’m not a child. I’m living my own life. And she would only
complicate things. Again, she is going to have to wait. My phone continues to buzz as we make our way
through the terminal for private jets at the airport. It’s going off enough that Morgan looks back at me
and down at my vibrating bag. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Oh yeah, just my sister,” I say, waving it off. “She’s a bit overbearing at times.” “Have you talked to
her at all?” he asks. “Of course. Kind of. Eh, not really,” I admit. “But again, everything I’m doing,
everything we are doing, is probably blowing her mind. And I just can’t really deal with all the
fragments if you know what I mean.” “Oh, I know,” he says with a sigh. “You have to live your own
life.” “Exactly,” I agree, switching my phone to silent. “But it does sound like her nagging is rooted in
concern,” he says. “Concern that my life isn’t following her perfect little footst eps,” I mutter. “Maybe
shoot her a text to let her know you’re alive and well and then call her when we leave NYC,” he
suggests, though it sounds more like he’s bossing me around. “If you want to leave your thoughts in the
suggestion box, they will be taken into consideration,” I say, and he tosses me a look. “You want me to
make amends with my brother,” he says. “Your brother isn’t the world’s most meddling sister,
reminding you that every move you make is wrong every day of your life!” I say. “Exc ept that he kind
of is. And he’s also trying to sue me and kick me out of the leadership position of my own company,” he
says. “True.” We reach the gate and Donovan is waiting for us. But as he rushes over, his face isn’t its
usual energetic presence. It’s all business, which tells me I should give them a moment. I take a st ep
back and pull out my phone to check my account. But of course I feel hung up now on Morgan’s words.
I go to the text stream and after a few moments of biting my lip and hesitating; I bite the bullet instead
and text her.
Scarlett- Hey! Sorry! It’s been absolute chaos, as I know you’ve seen. But don’t worry about the
rumors. Whatever they are, they’re probably not true (most of them lol) Claire- I want you to call me.
Scarlett- I’m about to get on the plane to NYC, but I promise we will chat after that. Just know that I am
safe, happy, well paid, well fed, and am having an amazing time. Claire- But what about the photos? On
the beach? Are those real? I think about that. She has to be referring to the array of photos posted of us
playing in the water, kissing and clearly having an amazing time. Clearly falling in love. And I suppose,
especially after last night, I feel like I at least owe her that truth. Scarlett- Yes. The beach photos are all
exactly what they look like... Claire- Oh my god. How could you leave me in the dark like this? And
how could you be traveling and jumping off cliffs and going out considering that? Considering that?
Considering what? I am about to ask her when I hear Morgan’s voice. “Well that’s just fucking
fantastic, isn’t it?” he growls. “Seriously. Is he going to fuck with every aspect of my life!?” “What is
it? What happened?” I ask. Morgan is reeling, pacing and clenching his jaw, and looking like he wants
to punch something. Donovan is nodding with pursed lips. “What happened?” Morgan says. “Is my
brother fucking with our flight plans.” “The flight plans?” I echo. “How can he mess with the flight
plans? We’re using your private jet.” “Because he has access to the jet as well as the mechanics
in volved in our flight,” he snaps, still pacing.
I look over at Donovan. “I don’t understand.” “Apparently Conrad scheduled a routine maintenance
order for the jet. Right now,” Donovan explains. “Oh,” I say. “I mean that’s... inconvenient... but those
don’t usually take more than an hour or two, do they?” “They take longer if they find something
wrong,” Morgan says. “Did they?” I ask. “No,” Morgan says, “because there is nothing wrong.” “But
apparently they think there might be something wrong,” Donovan says. “As in there’s a fake problem
ke eping us from flying.” “Oh,” I sigh. “So... now what?” “Now, if we want to stay on schedule, we have
to fly commercial,” Morgan mutters. “First class,” Donovan offers. “But commercial,” Morgan says
before we pick up our bags and head to the main terminal.
There’s something to be said for traveling with a person. Flying in specific. You learn a lot about them
as they wait in lines, rush to gates, and go through security. And speaking of that... it is very, very clear
that Morgan could add going through regular airport security to his never have I ever list. Because while
I whisk through with little to no issues because my shoes slip on and off, I never wear dangling or bulky
earrings on travel days and all my lotions and sprays are the right size. Morgan on the other hand is a hot
mess. “Why are they making me take things out of my bag? Isn’t that what the cameras are for? Why
does my laptop need a s eparate bin? Why are the bins moving so fast? Raise my arms and do what?
What is the point of taking shoes off, seriously?”
I almost feel bad as he struggles through literally every stage of it, getting stopped, questioned, and told
to do things over and over. By the end of it, because he is arguing so much, it automatically makes him
look suspicious. So while he is being patted down and metal detected, another guard literally dumps his
messenger bag out into a bin and throws the bag itself into a fourth bin. “Are you kidding me right
now?” I hear him say and then pat him down a second time, and if I’m being honest, I almost chuckle.
Donovan, like me, is already on the other side. In fact, he’s already got his shoes on and is scoping the
gates on the screens to make sure we aren’t going to miss the flight. As Morgan’s bins come to the end
of the belt, I decide to help him out and grab his bag and shove his laptop and tablet into it. Then I grab
all the items out of the other bin. He’s going to have to buy more toothpaste and a new razor when we
get to New York. I’m nearly finished as he grabs his shoes, grumbling about all of it, and I can’t help
but smile. Until my hand pauses over the bin when I reach for the last item. It’s a book. A notebook. My
notebook. My bucket list. “Just is insane, all of it,” Morgan goes off as he aggressively ties his laces.
“It’s like they don’t even know who I am,” But I don’t say anything. I can’t say anything. Because I am
in too much shock. Thoughts are flooding into my head as I hold it in my hand, mouth gaping and the
idea of it. It must’ve come out of my bag at the Sapphire. And he took it. Or found it. Either way, he
k ept it. And he didn’t tell me. He’s had it all along. But more than that... He’s known who I am all
along and didn’t say anything.
“Alright, now that all this nonsense is over we can run to our gate,” he says, approaching me. But I just
hold the book up and his eyes widen as I shake my head.