Maybe that was my gift. I had a few stolen moments of a life that I could have had if I was whole. I never had to give those memories back.
“She’s upset but she’s going to be okay . . . yes, I’m sure. She’s tough—a lot like another woman I know . . . yeah. I love you, too . . . I’ll call you when I’m on my way home. Don’t shoot Grant if he comes over there.” Rush grinned then hung up the phone.
He glanced over at me and his grin faded. “She’ll probably call you. A lot. Be prepared.”
I needed a friend. I was glad I had one in Blaire. “Okay,” I replied.
Rush pulled into the private airport that Slacker Demon’s jet usually departed from. I hadn’t called for the jet, so it wasn’t here.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Rush flashed an ID at the gate and they opened up. “I’m getting you a private jet. You can’t walk into the airport and get on a regular plane, Harlow. You’ll get mobbed. When you land in L.A., I’ll have a limo waiting to pick you up and get you to the house. Stay there. They’ll probably be swarming outside the gate.”
I hadn’t thought of any of that. He was right, though. My private life was now over.
“Thanks. I hadn’t . . . this hasn’t sunk in yet,” I said, opening my door.
Rush got out of his truck and walked toward the main office.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he called out.
I didn’t doubt Rush could get me a jet. He knew how to make the world do what he wanted. I often wondered if it was because he was raised in our fathers’ world.
He never seemed intimidated.
When he came walking out, he waved me over.
I went to him, trusting him to get me home safe. My time in Rosemary was over much sooner than I’d expected.
But the memory was mine to keep.