Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Sure.” I scoot over a little to make room, surprised when he lifts the fleece blanket and slides beneath so that we’re sharing it.
His thigh presses against mine, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
I definitely notice.
“We did good,” he says, nodding across the fire to where Collette’s head is now nestled against Jon’s chest, his hand stroking over her long brown hair. “They seem happy.”
“Totally. You think anyone will mind that the leaf bus tour isn’t going to be very orange and red? That early snow storm that hit last week apparently shortened the foliage season this year.” There. Leaves are a safe, unsexy topic, right?
“Nah. I think everyone just seems really happy to have a weekend away from the city.”
I look up at his profile. “What about you? Happy to be away from the city?”
“I never mind a change of pace. You?”
“Same. Though sometimes my favorite part about leaving Manhattan is how much I love coming back to it. Suddenly the car honks and the crowded sidewalks and tiny living spaces seem charming instead of annoying when you have some distance.”
“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Thomas says thoughtfully. “But you’re absolutely right.”
I shrug. “It happens.”
Thomas glances down, noting my upturned phone. “You can keep doing whatever you were doing.”
“That’s okay.” I lock my phone, turning the screen black. “I can do it later.”
I’d rather talk with you.
We sit in silence for a bit, both of us watching the fire, listening to it crackle. I don’t mean to speak, and I really don’t mean to speak about that night, but maybe it was the mention of the tiny living space, maybe it’s just because I need to get it off my chest, but I hear myself say:
“I’m sorry I almost kissed you.”
His head snaps my way, and I force myself to meet his eyes and keep going. “It was beyond inappropriate. You had a girlfriend, you were my boss, and most embarrassingly of all, it just . . . never would have worked.”
His expression gives me nothing, and feeling more foolish than ever, I keep babbling on.
“And I just keep thinking, what if the situations were reversed, what if some dude had tried to make a move on me in all those same circumstances, and ugh, it’s so cringey . . .” I finish with a laugh, but it sounds a little brittle.
Thomas turns away, facing the fire once more, the flickering light from the flames highlighting the stark, masculine planes of his features.
“Anyway. I’m really sorry,” I say, trying to ease through the awkwardness. “Normally I’d go die now, but I figure I should wait to clean up, and—”
“I’ll take care of it.” His voice isn’t quite curt, but it’s not not a dismissal, either, and I force a smile to hide my dismay.
Obviously, that night is one that is Not To Be Mentioned, and now I’ve inserted a big fat wrinkle into our truce of keeping the weekend civil.
“I don’t mind,” he continues, his voice a little less sharp now, but not much. “Everyone looks ready to turn in anyway.”
“Okay, well, if you’re sure,” I say with fake brightness as I start to push the blanket off my legs. “I really appreciate it.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything else, and feeling awkward and embarrassed as hell, I head stiffly towards the lobby. Collette waves goodnight, and her happiness helps a little to settle me, and remind me why I’m here.
Still, I speed-walk back to my room. I may not be able to put the conversation out of my mind, but at least I can put it behind me physically. I exhale in relief once I get back to the safety of my room.
One of the reasons I chose this particular hotel over a slightly more swanky one up the road is that the rooms aren’t the usual cookie-cutter hotel design and decor. Everything feels hand selected with a guest’s comfort in mind. My room is entirely white, which wouldn’t normally be my jam, but there’s a soft, soothing vibe to the space that I need right now. A cream eyelet bedspread atop the down blanket, a bouquet of white wild flowers, even a white pumpkin on the dresser.
I’d left the window cracked just the tiniest bit, and though the room is cool, the way the sheer white drapes billow and the moonlight lights the room is so pretty that I let it be.
My conversation with Thomas is still swirling in my mind, and my gaze goes to the white clawfoot tub and the complimentary bath bubbles. I can’t outrun my conversation with Thomas, but maybe I can wash it away?
I turn on the faucet and add a generous amount of apple-scented bubbles. As the tub fills, I pull my hair into a messy bun, then carefully pull out the blue streak, letting it frame my face. I don’t know why, but I need that little piece of myself, that reminder of who I am.