Page 3 of Somewhere Without You

Three

Before

The first thing that struck me was how bright everything was. Beyond the towering glass windows overlooking the bay, an endless stretch of cerulean sea melted into a brilliant horizon.

The airport hummed with the clatter of rolling suitcases and the rhythm of hurried footsteps. I was still jittery from the flight, my nerves a tumbled mess in my stomach as I rolled my pink suitcase alongside me.

It was early afternoon as I scanned the crowd, watching travelers come and go. My eyes flicked from face to face in search of my sister, panic pricking at my spine when I couldn’t find her.

I glanced up at the digital clock above the baggage carousel—thinking I had arrived too early, only to discover I was running late. I freed my phone from my pocket.

Just landed , the message I’d sent twenty minutes ago, stared back with no reply.

With a sigh, I tapped on her name, pacing as the phone rang and rang before kicking me to voicemail.

Shit.

“Kat, it’s Emily. I’m at the airport. Where are you? Call me.”

Turning around, I started retracing my steps, remembering a Starbucks I’d passed earlier, when a voice behind me called my name.

“Emily?”

I spun around and saw a man I didn’t recognize walking briskly in my direction.

I hesitated, but he didn’t seem to need confirmation as he stopped directly in front of me.

“Emily Hart?”heaskedagain.

I gave a cautious nod.“Yes. . . do I know you?”

He shook his head.“I’m Jackson Bishop. I’m a friend of Grant’s.”

A knot of panic tightened in my stomach. Grant was my sister’s husband. Oh god. Had something happened?

“Where’s Katherine?”Iaskedsharply.

“They had something come up last minute,”hereassuredme.

“So they sent you instead,”I guessed, the tension easing in my chest.

“I offered,”Jackson smiled.“Didn’t seem right making you Uber all the way to La Jolla.”

He was distractingly good-looking—the kind of handsome that made you look twice. A classic Californian with sun-kissed blonde hair falling into his eyes, a piercing blue gaze, and a grin that could thaw glaciers. He looked like he belonged on a surfboard, not in an airport terminal.

Jackson bent down, gently coaxing the suitcase from my hand, and I caught the faint scent of fresh aftershave curling around the sharp lines of his jaw.

“How was the flight?”heasked, guiding me through the automatic doors to where a sleek black SUV waited at the curb.

“Exhausting,”I yawned.“Is it just me, or does the legroom shrink every year?”

He laughed, and the sound sent goosebumps skittering across my arms.

“That’s why I fly private,”hesaid, settling into the cool, buttery leather seat beside me.

I blinked.“You have a private jet?”

The surprise must’ve been all over my face. Who the hell was this guy?

“Technically, it belongs to the company,”Jackson shrugged.“But yes. And a helicopter.”

Ah. Suddenly, the luxury SUV and the waiting driver made sense. I hadn’t even been in California an hour and was already neck-deep in its gold-tinted world.

“How do you know Grant?”Iasked, suddenly hyperaware of my thrifted sundress and the crinkled Walmart bag cradled in my lap.

“We grew up together,”hesaidwith a nostalgic grin.“Our parents attend the same country club.”

Of course they did. I knew Grant had money. He was a senior software engineer for Bishop Enterprises, a multibillion-dollar tech giant known for it’s cutting-edge AI and clean design.

Bishop.

I twisted in my seat to look at him, realization striking like a flashbulb.

“Wait. . . are you the Jackson Bishop?” I asked, my soft brown eyes going wide.

His lips curled into an amused grin.“I don’t know about the Jackson Bishop—but I am a Jackson Bishop.”

How had I not recognized him? His face had been splashed across the covers of Time, Forbes, even People. The tech world’s golden boy turned media darling. And yet, somehow, I’d mistaken him for a casual family friend.

I sank a little lower into my seat, feeling small.

“Oh,”I managed, scrambling for something—anything, that wouldn’t sound painfully stupid.“You look. . . different in person.”

It’s funny how a title alone can change the way you see someone. Five minutes ago, he was just a friendly guy picking me up. Now, I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong in the same car.

Jackson tilted his head, amused.“Different as in better? Or worse?”

My cheeks flushed.“Better. I mean—not that you looked worse before. Obviously. You never looked bad. That’s not what I meant. . .” The words kept tumbling out, clumsy and fast, as if sheer momentum could rescue me from total humiliation.

Jackson chuckled, clearly enjoying my flustered state.“So. . . better,”herepeated, leaning back casually, one arm draped along the back of the seat.“That’s a relief.”

I gave him a sidelong glance.“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,”hegrinned.“I’m very fragile, you know. Compliments only inflate my ego by dangerous amounts.”

“Oh, you poor thing,”Iteased, shaking my head.“Must be so hard being wildly rich, famous, and attractive.”

He laughed.“You think I’m attractive?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Dammit. I’d walked right into that one.

“I think you think you’re attractive,” I said, trying to salvage my pride.

“Mm,”hemused, feigning deepthought.“I am known for being devastatingly humble.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t hide my smile.“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

That stopped me.

My breath caught, his eyes lingering on mine a little longer than necessary. I looked away first, pretending to focus on the view outside the window. Palm trees whipped past, sunshine gilding everything it touched.

When we finally pulled up to Katherine’s house, I blinked in surprise.

It wasn’t the extravagant, gated estate I’d expected from someone married to a senior engineer.

And definitely not what I imagined for a close friend of a billionaire.

Instead, it was charmingly understated. A classic American Craftsman with a wide, welcoming porch, tapered columns, and a steep, sloping roof.

The driver, who remained silent the entire trip, stepped out and began unloading my luggage, but Jackson was already there, waving him off.

“I’ve got it,”hesaid, effortlessly lifting my bag like it weighed nothing.

From the doorway, Katherine’s warm voice rang out.“The sun looks good on you.”

I glanced up to see her leaning against the frame, arms folded, eyes crinkling with amusement.“Sorry for the mix-up,”sheadded.“But apparently, it comes with VIP perks.”

“Apparently,”I echoed as Jackson stepped beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.

Kat’s gaze flicked between us.“Thanks for picking her up, Jackson.”

“Happy to,”hesaid, handing me my suitcase. Our fingers touched—just barely, but the spark that followed shot straight through me.

Katherine arched an eyebrow.“I hope he behaved himself.”

“He was a perfect gentleman,”I smiled, though my pulse was still racing.

“A gentleman, huh?”She gave Jackson a pointed look.“That’s a new one. I’ve heard him called a lot of things, but‘gentleman’usually doesn’t make the list.”

“That’s because you’ve never acted like a lady,”he shot back smoothly.

Katherine smirked, but I caught the flicker of something unreadable in her eyes as she stepped aside and motioned me inside.“Come on. Let’s get you settled.”

As Jackson turned to go, something tugged at me.

“Hey,”Ishouted, and he paused, half-turned toward me.“Will I see you again?”Iasked, trying to sound casual, not like my heart was stupidly hoping for a yes.

His gaze lingered on mine as he slid his hands into his pockets.“I hope so.”