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“Today we’re here with Taylor G.” Katie said. “She’s a former Elite Airways flight attendant and author of the book that is causing quite a bit of a buzz, Turbulence.”

The camera panned to Gillian, and she looked as if it was killing her to smile.

“It made its debut on shelves last month and it’s apparently going to have to go through a second printing fairly soon.” She looked at Gillian. “How do feel right now about living your dream?”

“I’m still in a bit of shock, honestly.”

“I can imagine.” Katie laughed. “So, let’s just get down to the question that everyone wants to know. Outside of the name and city changes, is your book mostly true?”

She hesitated to answer. “Yes.”

“Interesting!” She pulled out a sheet of paper. “Are you aware of the press releases that Elite Airways has sent out this week? How they’re now framing you as a disgruntled employee?”

“Yes, and I think they’re doing a very good job to discredit me.” Gillian folded her hands in her lap. “A very good job, but facts are facts.”

Katie smiled again, seemingly overjoyed to have an exclusive. “You told me right before the interview that you wouldn’t divulge the name or anything specific about the pilot you were involved with, but does he know about the book? Is he aware that he’s the main subject?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “Let’s focus on you. So, you got a small book deal fresh out of college and your debut book was supposed to be about...”

I tuned out the reporter’s voice, tuned out Gillian’s obviously-rehearsed answers. I kept my focus on Gillian’s lips and her eyes, the way she blushed every few seconds when she was uncomfortable.

I couldn’t deny that she was still fucking beautiful, or that seeing her for these few minutes was having an effect on me and making me sense the very feeling I’d been attempting to avoid for the past few months. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had yet to curb my habit of waking up in the middle of the night and reaching for her.

I’d found images of us in my desk drawer, more secret pictures she took of us, and ones she continued to snap of me when I was asleep. And I still looked at the naked images she once sent to my phone via our FaceTime chats. I couldn’t bring myself to delete those.

“One last question before we take a quick commercial break.” Katie’s shrill voice cut through my thoughts. “If there’s anything you’d like to say to the other subject in Turbulence, anything at all, what would you say?”

A look of hurt crossed Gillian’s face, but she recovered quickly and forced a smile. “I would say, two word phrase, seven letters. Something I always wanted you to say, but now I’m saying it to you and I mean it.”

I’m sorry...

“Okay, then...We’ll be right back with—”

“I’d also say that I miss you.” She looked directly into the camera. “I miss you a lot more than words can explain.” Then she mouthed, “And I love you.”

Someone off camera handed her a box of Kleenex and Katie winked at the audience. She patted Gillian’s knee and whispered, “We’ll be right back, America” with a smile. And after the camera got one last shot of the tears falling down Gillian’s face, the screen cut to a laundry commercial.

“You ready?” The Marriott woman whispered into my ear. “I just received the text from housekeeping. We’re good to go.”

I turned around to face her, unable to see her true features. All I could see was Gillian.

“Is that a yes?” she asked.

“It’s a no.” I moved past her and walked out of the bistro and into the evening air of the city. I headed down 38th street, toward the financial district where I was less likely to run into too many people.

When I approached a stoplight, I looked to my left and noticed Turbulence staring at me from a display inside of Barnes and Noble. Unable to look away, I stepped closer to the glass, eyeing the new cover for the paperback. Unlike the hardback cover which featured a couple leaning against the wall in a post-sex kiss, this cover was far simpler.

The word “Turbulence” was split into two: “Turbu” and “Lence” lined up symmetrically in a bright white font. There was a man in a pilot uniform—a captain’s uniform with four glittering gold stripes on his shoulders, and his back was turned as he stood beneath a dark blue sky. In thin, white letters at the bottom were the words, “Taylor G.” and above that were the italicized words: New York Times and USA Today bestselling author.

A part of me wanted to storm into the store and strip the cover off every copy—to rip out the pages until there was nothing left for anyone to read. But another part of me, a part I couldn’t explain, was telling me to pick up a copy for myself.

With the streetlight still red, I went against my better judgment and walked inside the store. I was immediately faced with a larger display of her book, and a stand stocked with free bonus gifts that came with every purchase of it: A silver plane keychain with the words “This is us. This is our messed up love” etched onto the wing.

“Can I help you with something today, sir?” A brunette walked over to me. “Anything particular you’re looking for?”

“I’ve found it,” I said, picking up a copy. “Where do I check out?”