Broken Wings

Part Twelve - Becoming Friends?

Thanks to @couture2540 for the amazing new cover!  Love it.

Chapter Twelve

Aaron looked at the lights of New York City as his plane came into land. He missed the place when he wasn't there. It was as close to a home as he'd ever had. Not something his mother would like to hear. She had called him earlier, lamenting about how wonderful it had been to see him, how she wished he visited more often. He didn't hate them, there was no real reason why he DIDN'T travel home more often, only that he was too busy...and he liked the life he had. He couldn't see him ever moving back to Britain, it had been too long. He glanced out the window again and smiled, and that was largely due to the City That Never Sleeps that he had the privilege of living in.

He sighed, though he rarely appreciated that much consciously. He'd realised that when he took Julia on a brief tour, her face, lighting up at the so familiar places, every street corner was a movie scene. It was a long time since he'd felt that love, that delight at the place he lived. He needed to take a long look at what his life had become.

All work and no play...how many girlfriends had thrown that adage at him? Too many to count. Maybe it was time to start living a little more?

Then he thought about Melissa, the first woman he'd seemed to give his time to. He didn't love her, he wasn't sure that he'd ever love anyone, he'd not met anyone who made him believe that, but Melissa had seemed different. Then he'd found her fucking some bit-part actor. And she'd orchestrated that. He knew that. "Come collect me? Around five? Here, have a key..."

He struggled to understand her motive; did she want the drama of him fighting with her roommate over her? Did she think that her value increased if he had competition? Or was she just a bitch, fucking with his emotions?

Weeks later he didn't know, and he hadn't cared...that was until the last week when she was trying to sell him out to the paparazzi. The anger bubbled under the surface, he'd tried to resist contacting her, he feared he might hurt her, and he knew that would be disastrous, that's without Tom reminding him in technicolour of his position on it all.

The stewardess smiled at him as she walked through the first class cabin, her eyes lingering longer on him than the others. Him with his crumpled suit and glasses that Melissa told him were geeky. He returned her smile, but then tipped his head, gathering his belongings. he wasn't about to come on to the woman, not that there was anything wrong with her, and not that he hadn't hooked up with members of cabin staff on trips in the past, he just wasn't in the mood any more.

He wanted to go home.

Patrick was waiting for him, leaning against the bonnet of the limo that was the head of his company's fleet of cars.

"Home, Mr Harding?"

Aaron smiled at the young man, "you read me like a book, Patrick. Thanks."

In the car, he pulled out his mobile phone and noted the messages that had arrived since landing. Groaning he unlocked the phone, then groaned. He had a dozen messages, but there were four slap bang in the middle of the list that were in capitals.

From Melissa.

He'd known there'd be a backlash for him thwarting her attempts at media attention.

WHO THE FUCK HAVE U MOVED INTO UR PLACE? U WOULDN'T EVEN LET ME STAY THE NIGHT

Suddenly he felt sick, the woman he'd dated for a few months, turning up at his place...someone as selfish and as unstable as Melissa was. He grimaced. Poor Julia, he only hoped that she was ok. He needed to cal her, but there were more messages.