Starting over: “DO YOU REMEMBER THAT TIME IN NEW YORK WITH THE FIREBALL? YEAH, NEITHER DO I. I ALSO DON’T REMEMBER LAST NIGHT IN INDIANAPOLIS.” (Smiley face emoji)
I contemplate hitting send.
Backspace…erase...one more try...
“HEY, BABE. SORRY. I CRASHED LAST NIGHT WITH MY RINGER OFF. I’M ALIVE AND WELL. CAN’T WAIT FOR THE WEDDING. THE YOU, ME, AND GRANDMA HELEN SLUMBER PARTY WILL HAVE TO WAIT FOR ANOTHER TIME. YOU KNOW I LOVE YOUR GRANDMA! LET’S GET TODAY’S PARTY STARTED. YOU’RE GOING TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BRIDE.”
Seconds after hitting send, my phone chirps: KIMBRA flashes on the screen.
“BITCH. YOU HAD ME SCARED TO DEATH. GRANDMA AND I WERE GOING TO DRIVE BACK TO THE CITY, BUT SHE WAS WINNING AT POKER AND KEPT SAYING ONE MORE HAND. (Laughing emoji) DUNCAN EVEN TEXTED HIS BROTHER, ASKING IF HE’D SEEN YOU. HIS BROTHER IS STAYING AT THE SAME HOTEL. INTRODUCE YOURSELF IF YOU SEE HIM. HE LOOKS LIKE DUNCAN, BUT NOT AS SEXY, WITH LIGHTER HAIR AND WELL, NEVERMIND. YOU’LL MEET HIM AT THE WEDDING. DON’T FORGET HAIR AND MAKEUP AT NOON. SEE YOU THEN. LOVE YOU.”
I shake my head. Only Kimbra would start her text by calling me a bitch and end it with “love you.” I think for a second about her description of Trevor. I could call her and tell her that she’s completely wrong about him, but that would give away my uncomfortable situation. Maybe before giving anything away, I should learn more about last night.
“Shana?” Trevor’s voice calls from the other side of the door.
“Yes?”
“The bellhop is here. He needs to see you.”
“See me?”
His voice becomes softer, more of a stage whisper. “Apparently, he thinks I’m trying to get a key to your room for nefarious reasons. He will only give it to you.”
“A key...”
The clue is a figurative light bulb to my lost memories.
Last night I couldn’t find my key. My heart beats faster. It was more than just my key. It was my purse that I also couldn’t find. I’d lost it. Oh God. My purse has my ID and my room key. They wouldn’t give me one without the other. No ID, no key. No key and I can’t get into my room. In my room is my passport. Without that, I can’t get back to London.
My hands begin to shake as I search the bathroom for something to wear. I can’t go to the door and speak to the bellhop wearing only Trevor’s shirt and my panties. Just then, another soft knock taps on the bathroom door. The door opens a crack, and Trevor’s hand comes into view, holding a soft white hotel robe.
“Thanks,” I say with a grin.
The too-big robe swallows me as I cinch the tie around my waist. Doing my best to smooth my messy blonde hair, I take a deep breath and enter the suite. Standing just inside the room next to Trevor is an older man. He’s shorter than Trevor and dressed in a hotel uniform; however, my eyes go to Trevor, who is now also wearing a T-shirt along with those sexy basketball shorts. I almost pout, missing the defined abs.
And then, my attention is diverted by an appetizing aroma. Saliva returns to my mouth as I notice on the table in front of the sofa a tray that holds a carafe of what I assume is the coffee Trevor promised, as well as two dishes covered with silver lids. Suddenly and loudly, my stomach rumbles in anticipation at the promise of food.
“Ms. Price?” the older man asks, his voice bringing back my panic over my purse.
“Yes. I’m Shana Price.”
“Ma’am, I apologize for the mix-up last night. The employee is new; however, it’s our policy to not dispense keys without identification.”
I nod, remembering bits of the conversation. “The thing was that I misplaced my purse, with my ID. I lost both.”
His eyes twinkle as he reaches inside the cloth bag I hadn’t realized he was holding. “If you can give me the information on this driver’s license, I believe that I can return your handbag, ID, and room key.”
“Oh!” I reply, relieved to be able to get back into my room, my passport, and to the dress hanging on the curtain rod. After rattling off all of my information, the bellhop hands me the entire cloth bag. Peering inside, I let out a long breath, the mint of Trevor’s toothpaste tickling my nose. Inside the bag is everything the bellhop promised. Opening my purse, I find all my cash, my credit cards, and my ID. Nothing is missing.
Handing him a tip, I say, “Thank you so much. Did someone turn this in?”
“One of our custodial employees found it last night after hours by the fire pit outside the piano bar.”
My cheeks warm as pink undoubtedly rises to the surface, and I turn a bashful gaze toward Trevor.
The fire pit.
It’s all coming back.
Chapter Three
Ten hours earlier
Shana
“Come stay out at the farm with me,” Kimbra says as the limousine we all rode in from the rehearsal dinner stops in front of my hotel.
“I’m all checked in to the hotel. Really…” I give her a kiss on the cheek. “…sweetie, I’m exhausted. I will be a better maid of honor tomorrow if I sleep well tonight.”
“Oh!” her grandma Helen says, the funniest little old lady who always seems to have more energy than I can muster. “We’re not sleeping right away out at Judy and Oscar’s. Nope! This is my first time in a limousine and I’m feeling lucky.” She elbows my side and gives me a not-so-subtle wink. “Not that kind of lucky.” She shakes her head. “The kind of lucky that will make me as rich as Kimberly Ann’s man. I’m so confident, I’ll spot you five dollars, and we’ll all play poker. Five-card stud. Texas Hold ‘em.” She pouts her lips. “I’d win more if we could get Duncan to stay with us. Silly traditions. It’s not like the man hasn’t seen every part of you, Kimberly Ann. Tasted the milk, if you know what I mean.” She grins at me. “I don’t see anything wrong with that. I mean, as long as you both like the milk.
“Me,” Grandma goes on. “I’ve been a big fan of milk. No lactose intolerance here!”
“Grandma!” Kimberly says with a shake of her head.
“Come on, Kimberly Ann, you should let your grandma have some fun. That man loses his shirt every time.”
“Grandma,” Kimbra replies as we all giggle at Grandma Helen’s lack of filter, “he loses because you won’t let him quit when he’s ahead.”
“Five dollars?” I say with a grin, hoping to get Kimbra off the hook. “That must mean it’s not strip poker.”
“Oh heavens,” Grandma Helen says, “not with the people staying at Judy’s. Besides, I’m too old for strip poker. I’d have to leave on my bra.” She wiggles about as she pulls at her blouse. “And let me tell you, that baby is coming off first thing. My girls are tired of being locked up. Heck, I might not even wait until we get home.”
The door to the limousine opens, and I give Kimbra another kiss. “The rehearsal was perfect. The dinner was fantastic. You and Duncan will be so happy. I’m going straight to my room and getting a good night’s sleep.” I tilt my head toward Kimbra’s grandma. “I’ll pass on the poker.”
My best friend laughs. “With Duncan staying at my brother and sister-in-law’s, I’m betting it’s not a long game.”
“Judy,” Grandma Helen says to her daughter, Kimbra’s mother, “I know. We can call the Peabodys down the way. Jeremiah is always good for ten dollars.” She turns to Kimbra. “After your grandpa passed, he offered me some milk...”
Kimbra laughs as she steps out of the car with me. “Maybe I should stay here with you. The last thing I want to hear about is my grandma’s dairy intake.”
I smile wider. “She is a hoot! And you know, you’re welcome to stay here.”
She shakes her head. “No, I’d better keep an eye on them and make sure the game doesn’t end up with Grandma’s bra in the pot or more discussion on what could have been!”
We both snicker.
“Text me when you’re settled,” she says. “I wish you’d reconsider coming out to my parents’ so we can stay together tonight.”
“At your parent
s’ house, in your childhood canopy bed? No way. I’ve heard stories!”
Kimbra gives me a hug. “Thanks for making it back for the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Cool air greets me as I enter the hotel’s lobby and take a deep breath. Summers in Indiana are much warmer than in London. Then again, I grew up in Illinois, so this isn’t much different. Somehow, your body forgets how 95 percent humidity feels. It’s not just that, but also the transition to the cooled air as I step inside. My arms erupt with tiny goose bumps. Shivering, I ride the escalators up to the main level while taking in the entry. Marble floors reflect the large chandeliers as I pass the desks and make my way toward the lifts—okay, I really like that word for elevators. It’s lovely. As I get closer, the ring of piano music fills my ears. Beyond the bank of elevators is an entrance to a small hotel bar, the sign in the hallway boasting the best jazz music in all of Indy.
My tired mind tries to decide if that’s really a compliment. All of New Orleans…All of Louisiana, yes, but all of Indy as in Indianapolis? I’m not sure if the competition is that tough. Nevertheless, the longer I stand there waiting for the elevator, the more inviting the melody becomes.
Making a deal with myself, I decide I’ll have one more glass of wine—strictly for medicinal purposes to help me sleep—and then up to my room.
The bar is dark and chic with colored lights shining on the walls. One bar surrounds the piano, all the seats filled with couples laughing along with the pianist and singing slightly off-key. Instead of vying for a seat there, I make my way over to the sparsely occupied long bar near the side of the room. Its surface is shiny, reflecting the mood lighting. Easing onto a stool, I order a glass of cabernet. As I pay, a warm summer breeze skirts over my exposed skin, and I turn toward an opening door to what appears to be a patio.
“Is it warmer out there?” I ask the bartender.
“Yeah,” he says. “Not too warm. The fire pits aren’t on tonight. They’re really nice on a cool night.”
“I think I’ll take my wine out there. I’m a bit chilled.”
Outside is quieter but warmer, the night air heavy and filled with distant sounds of the city. Even though the fire pits aren’t lit, there’s a soft red glow coming from the glass embers, giving the illusion of fire without the heat. With my wine in hand, I sit by myself and relax for the first time since my trip began.
I’m finally here. I made it to the rehearsal. The wedding is tomorrow. Everything is good.
It’s a mental pep talk, and after the last exhausting thirty-six hours, I’m beginning to believe every word.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “Is anyone sitting there?”
“Um, no…” I scoot over so the other side of the small sofa is available. “I’m not staying long if you need both seats.”
He laughs. “I think I can fit in just one.”
A blush fills my cheeks. “I wasn’t…” I look him up and down, recalling my affection for corn-fed Midwesterners. There’s no reason to assume he would need more than one seat, not by himself, even with his broad shoulders—he has a trim torso and what appears to be a nice firm ass. My new home may be filled with great accents and fun words, but there’s something about sexy men from my homeland.
The good-looking man sets his glass of beer on the edge of the fire pit and extends his hand. As he speaks, my gaze is fixed on his stunning green-eyed stare.
“I’m Trevor. Thanks for letting me crash your party.”
My head turns from side to side, taking in my solitude. “Not much of a party.” I accept his handshake. “Shana.”
“They seem to be having one inside.”
“Around the piano? Yes, they’re having fun. Honestly, I’m here to relax. Besides, no one wants to hear me sing.”
“Now don’t sell yourself short. I bet you have a lovely voice.”
Lovely. It makes me smile.
The conversation comes too easily. I learn that he’s not from Indiana, but from New York. We talk about Manhattan and the places we love in the city. We talk about everything and nothing as I forget my need to sleep. It’s when we go back inside for one more refill that things begin to get out of hand.
Across the top of the piano bar is a row of shots. When Trevor looks my direction, I shake my head. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Hey, you two,” a man who’s sitting at the piano bar calls, “come on over. Have one on us. We’re celebrating. My friend over here just got engaged.”
Trevor and I smile.
“Come on. The more the merrier.” The man gestures toward the piano bar where two seats are now available.
“Don’t tell me you’re against marriage?” the man asks.
When Trevor looks at me, I respond, “No, not at all. I’m in town for a wedding.”
“Really?” Trevor asks with more than a little surprise to his voice. “Funny, me too.”
“You are?”
“Come on over,” the man says. “I’m Paul…” As he introduces the people around the piano, we take the two empty seats and learn that it’s the younger couple who were just moments ago engaged.
Trevor hands me a shot glass. “To your wedding tomorrow. Too bad yours and mine aren’t the same, or I’d ask you to dance.”
We all drink.
“That would be nice,” I say, placing the glass back on the bar and wiping my lips with the back of my hand. “But I’m the maid of honor, and I’m a little busy looking after the bride.”
“I’ve heard those wedding dresses can be a real pain.”
“Only if she needs to pee,” I say and immediately cover my own lips. “Oh, I can’t believe I said that.”
“We’ll blame the shot,” he says with a laugh. “But now I’m going to blame you for making me think about that every time I look at my future sister-in-law.”
“And I’ll think of you each time I’m crammed in a stall with ten layers of lace in the air.”
He leans closer, his warm breath on my neck. “At least you’ll be thinking of me.”
My skin heats. I’m not sure if it’s from his closeness or the accuracy of his statement.
Just as quickly, his smile fades. “Unfortunately, I have a date coming to the wedding…”
Before he can finish, I start to stand. “Wait.” Trevor reaches for my hand, his fingers surrounding mine. “Let me finish.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure why I want to let him finish. First, he says he wants to dance with me, and then, he mentions a date. Nevertheless, I tentatively sit back down.
“I’d much rather have you as my date. You see, the woman who is coming is a friend. And before you ask or think or anything…she really is...a real friend. The thing is that I couldn’t show up at my brother’s wedding stag.”
The bartender hands us each another shot. I bring mine to my lips as Trevor continues, “We Willises have a reputation.”
As he says his last name, I choke, cough, and almost spit as the Fireball burns its way down my throat.
His large hand rubs circles over my back. “Are you all right?”
“I don’t think so.” I lift my hand toward the bartender. “Another shot, please.”
And that’s how we learn the truth. Our wedding is one and the same. We could dance together. Except that Trevor has a friend from New York flying in the next morning. Apparently, Trevor’s been working on an out-of-state project and wasn’t even sure he’d make the wedding. If he’d accepted the best-man offer from Duncan, we’d be paired.
Now he’ll be with a pretend date, and I’ll be alone.
“I know,” he says, “I’ll call her and tell her not to come.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes. She won’t mind. She is coming here anyway, except…”
“Except what?” I ask, my mind filling with a thousand reasons why I don’t want his friend who is a woman to be with him at the wedding.
“Her fiancé
is a friend of mine.”
My eyebrows arch. “Her fiancé?”
His shoulders shrug. “Okay, I’m about to share with you a Willis family secret. But first you must promise to never tell a soul.”
“I don’t know. My best friend is marrying your brother. Don’t you think she should know the secret?”
“No, most definitely not.”
The bartender eases two more shots our way. “I-I’m…” I wave it away.
“One more shot,” Trevor says, “and I’ll be brave enough to tell you what very few people know.”
I never have been one to step back from a challenge. Whether it is moving from my small town to New York or from New York to London, I am driven to want more. That includes knowing family secrets. I lift the shot glass, fascinated by the way the Fireball no longer burns. Instead, it’s a warm cinnamon liqueur much like a Christmas drink. Either that or my throat is now numb.
Trevor lifts his glass. Together we swallow our third, or is it fourth?
Slamming the glass down on the piano, I say, “Okay, spill.”
He eases from his barstool and offers me his hand. Without hesitation, I place my hand in his. It fits in a way I’ve never felt before—like it’s right. Like it’s meant to be. Like fate brought me back to the hotel, to this bar.
The world wobbles as I step down from my tall chair. Immediately, Trevor’s arm goes around my waist. “Do you need to go to your room?”
The patio is just beyond the long bar and a few tables. I tilt my head that way. “Maybe some fresh air.”
The fake red glow of the fire pit is the only illumination as the off-key singing and celebration from inside fades to a ringing in my ears. “Spill, Mr. Willis…” A laugh bubbles in my throat, growing until tears are falling from my eyes.
“What’s so funny?”
“Mr. Willis. That’s what Kimbra used to call Duncan.”
“That’s my secret,” Trevor says in all seriousness.
I squint again, trying to see him better. “What’s your secret?”
All ONES: The Complete Collection Page 39