The man gave me a onceover. “You don’t strike me as the criminal type. Not that unlawful people don’t come in small packages sometimes.” He smiled. “But…what the hell.” He slid his key in again and pressed the button for the tenth floor.
“Thank you.” If only the tenth floor were my final destination. I still needed to get into Nicholas’s room. Without a key. One step at a time.
Before exiting on the seventh floor, my new friend smiled. “Enjoy your trip.”
“Thanks. You too. And thanks again for your help.” As I watched his back disappear behind the closing door, and the elevator continued its ascent to the tenth floor, I felt my heart in my chest. Writing one’s own happy ending was idealistic in theory and exhausting in practice.
When the doors opened, I stepped into the hallway and headed right toward Nicholas’s room. My calming breaths battled my rapidly beating heart with each room I passed until I arrived at 1027. I turned the knob as if anticipating a miracle, but of course, it was locked. I leaned my carry-on against the door and peeked down the hallway, spotting a housekeeping cart a few rooms down.
I slowly walked in the direction of the cart, mentally rehearsing my speech. If I was lucky, the housekeeper would take my claim to have misplaced my room key at face value and let me in with her master key. But what if she lumped me in with some of the ritzy entitled guests who probably turned down their cosmetically modified noses at her? Or what if the room she was currently cleaning was left in shambles—clogged toilet, semen-stained sheets, broken glass, et cetera—leaving her in a lousy mood? She’d be well within her rights to send me on my way with a self-satisfied smirk, or worse, sic hotel management on my ass. I knew Nicholas wouldn’t let them arrest me for attempted trespassing, but it really wasn’t the ideal scenario.
And then I saw it—a square of yellow on top of a pile of white terrycloth towels. If it was what I thought it was, it would be a serendipitous moment. I took longer strides until I was close enough to the cart to confirm the yellow I saw was, in fact, Sophie Kinsella’s newest novel. A smile spread across my face as I felt for my own copy on the bottom of my purse.
I stuck my head in the entrance of the room and knocked lightly. A woman with blond hair held back in a loose ponytail wearing a pale-blue housekeeper’s uniform stepped out of the bathroom. “Yes, miss?”
She looked young enough to be my peer, and we had at least one thing in common. Perhaps the stars would align. “Is that your book in the cart?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. It’s mine. I brought it from home. Is something wrong?”
From her defensive tone, I worried I had sounded accusatory and shook my head vigorously. “No, I was coming down here to ask for assistance, and I couldn’t help but notice we’re reading the same book.” I removed my copy from my bag and waved it at her.
I followed her into the hallway where she glanced at the contents in the cart. I watched her eyes light up when she saw her book was still there. “Do you like it?” she asked.
“Sophie is my favorite author.”
“Mine too. I read on all of my breaks.” She looked down the hallway in both directions and whispered, “I love chick lit, but some of the other staff members tease me.”
I nodded empathetically. I had my share of experience with genre snobs. “I love it too. I have an entire blog dedicated to it.”
The woman peered at me. Then she did a double take. “Pastel Is the New Black? Are you Kim?”
My eyes bugged out. “Yes, I am.”
She put her hand to her heart. “I love your blog.”
Trying not to choke up, I said, “Thank you so much. This is wild. No one’s ever recognized me before.”
The woman blushed. “I really love chick lit.”
I nodded. “You and me both.”
“Did you say you needed my assistance?”
Having momentarily forgotten my true mission, I blinked. “Oh, yes. I’m trying to get in room 1027. I’ve misplaced my room key, and my boyfriend is at a business meeting. Can you help me?” I hoped she would take my fidgeting to mean I needed to go to the bathroom and not that I possessed a guilty conscience for asking her to be my accomplice to breaking and entering. Although it had been several hours since I last peed.
“Is your boyfriend the dark-haired man with the kind brown eyes and the scruffy jaw?”
Dreamy-eyed, I said, “And a smile bright enough to light up a pitch-black sky?”
She nodded.
“Then the answer is yes. I’m actually surprising him.” I crossed my fingers behind my back, praying she’d appreciate my honesty and help out her favorite blogger.
“Lucky lady.” Shutting the door of the opened guest room behind her, she headed in the direction of Nicholas’s room. “Follow me.”
I practically skipped to the door.
She unlocked the room and motioned for me to come inside.
“Please don’t tell.”
I crossed my heart and zipped my finger across my lips. “And hope to die.” I reached into my purse and slipped her a twenty-dollar bill. “Thank you again.”
Smiling brightly, she said, “Enjoy.”
“That’s the plan.”
After letting the door close behind me, I leaned against it and took a long-overdue deep breath. Once I confirmed I was in the correct room, I stripped off my clothes and jumped in the shower. I wanted to wash off the grime from the flight, but I kept my head covered with a shower cap, afraid I wouldn’t have time to properly restyle my hair from scratch.
Freshly clean from my shower and cozy in the hotel robe, I removed the red interoffice envelope I had borrowed from work from the bottom of my carry-on and spilled the contents on the bed. Inspired by my teenage years of creating friendship boards with Bridget, I had rummaged through a collection of old magazines the night before and cut out words corresponding to a favorite Beatles’ song, “Strawberry Fields Forever.” I removed the robe and placed the words strategically over my private parts. Even though no one would describe the area as a “strawberry field”—the color was off, and a strip was more accurate than a field—I knew Nicholas would appreciate the symmetry. I lay down carefully on the bed, my hands stretched out in front of me so I could read Sophie’s new book while I waited.
Once everything was in place, the inevitable occurred—I had to use the bathroom. In all likelihood, I didn’t physically need to pee, but once my mind believed I did, my bladder was certain to follow. I groaned. Tossing the cutouts to the side, I vaulted off the bed and ran to the bathroom. After completing my mission, I ran back to the bed and lay still. C’mon, Nicholas. Hurry up before I have to pee again.
I read a few pages with half-assed concentration, looking up from the book each time I heard a sound coming from the hallway, but the walls were pretty thick, and I couldn’t hear much of anything. This was good news for people walking by after Nicholas’s arrival—for obvious reasons—but not very helpful now, when any advance notice would be to my advantage.
After about eighteen minutes—a short enough period of time to avoid another urge to urinate, but a long enough interval to place my sanity in jeopardy—I heard a click in the door. I quickly glanced down at my body and made last-second adjustments to the placement of the cutouts. Then I raised myself slightly forward so I could witness Nicholas’s expression when he saw me. As discontent as I had been over the last few months, when I tried to pose lasciviously, my cheeks insisted on smiling goofily instead in anticipation of seeing him.
I fully planned to wait for him to notice me, but the moment I saw his form walk through the door, I blurted out, “Surprise!”
Nicholas whipped around toward the sound of my voice at the exact same moment I noticed the two men in suits behind him. He yelped, “Kim!” as I shouted, “Oh my God,” and in what felt like an out-of-body experience, I clumsily pulled the comforter ove
r my naked body.
I locked panicked eyes with Nicholas—who was rendered catatonic and gaping at me. Through my peripheral vision, I saw the two men raise their hands to their mouths in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment and hightail it out the door.
Finding his voice, Nicholas said, “Kim…I…Shit. I’ll be right back.” He ran into the hallway, leaving me alone in my own state of catatonia.
Chapter 32
What the hell just happened?
Shaking off my stupor, I was certain of one thing: I was a complete and utter failure at seduction, and now I might have cost Nicholas the respect of his colleagues. I jumped out of bed and dressed as hurriedly as I could. After scrawling, “I’m sorry” on the hotel-provided notepad, I threw my purse over my shoulder and pulled my carry-on bag behind me out of the room, down the hallway, into the elevator, and to the lobby as fast as I could. Thankfully, a room key was only required to go up.
While I imagined Nicholas making excuses for his girlfriend and pleading for his job, I gave the cab driver the address of my parents’ house in Boca Raton an hour and a half away. The fare was more than I could afford, but my dad would pay for it in a heartbeat as soon as he saw my face. As the yellow cab pulled out of the hotel onto Collins Avenue, the humidity caught up with me, and I pulled my hair into a bun on the top of my head. Then I called my mom.
She answered on one ring. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Are you home?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Stay put, okay? I’m on my way.”
“What? What time does your flight get in? Your dad and I will pick you up. Is Nicholas with you?”
I winced at his name and choked back the tears. “I’m in a cab.”
“A cab?”
I clarified. “From Miami.” I slipped out of my sweater, under which I wore a more weather-appropriate tank top, and fanned myself.
“You’ve lost me.”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
“Okay.”
“And Mom? Can you spot me fifty bucks for the fare?” The driver locked eyes with me through the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows. “Er, make it a hundred?”
“Of course. Are you all right?”
I blew a stream of air out of my mouth. “It depends on your definition of ‘all right.’ See you soon.”
I ended the call as the phone rang again. It was Nicholas. Lost for what to say and not keen to have the conversation in front of the cab driver, I dismissed the call. I leaned my bare back against the seat, thankful the air conditioning was on to cool off the black leather, and closed my eyes. I wished for sleep to wipe away the image of myself sprawled across the bed with the phrase “Strawberry Fields” adorning my nipples.
“Miss.”
My body shuddered as an agitated man’s voice woke me from my sleep. I forgot where I was until I realized the voice was coming from the cab driver. His body was still facing forward, but he had turned his head toward the backseat. Pointing out the window where palm trees decorated a sunny suburban street with matching white ranch-style houses, he said, “You’re here.”
I wished I could muster more enthusiasm for this impromptu visit to my folks’ lovely over-fifty development, but whereas sleep allowed me to forget the circumstances under which I was there, it was only a temporary fix, and I was awake now. “How much do I owe you?” I placed my wallet on my lap.
“One hundred and fifty-four dollars plus tip.”
I sighed. As I removed my phone from my bag to call my mom to bring cash (or a credit card not close to being maxed out), I noticed the three missed calls and four texts. I flipped through them. All from Nicholas.
“Where are you?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m worried. Please call me back!”
“Kimmie. Call me. Now.”
“Miss?”
I turned away from the phone and toward the cab driver. “Yes?”
“One hundred and fifty-four dollars.”
I swung my head back. “Huh? Oh, Right.”
While my mom settled with the cab driver, I went into the house, plopped myself on the bed in the guest room, and sent Nicholas a text. I assured him I was fine and with my parents and told him I hoped things were okay on the work front. I yearned to go back to the ignorant and blissful sleep state I had abandoned in the cab, but I knew my parents were worried sick and waiting for details. Well, my mom wanted details—I was surprised she hadn’t pounced on me already. Once my dad was assured I wasn’t assaulted or beaten and my problems were romance related, he would go back to reading his novel and leave the details to my mother. I reluctantly joined them at the table by the pool. A bottle of something—most definitely alcoholic—was chilling.
While my dad stood up to give me a hug, my mom pulled out the bottle from the bucket and poured me a glass of white wine.
I separated from my dad and sat down. “Thanks,” I said, taking a sip of wine. “Thanks for covering the cab. I’m sorry it was so expensive.”
“As long as you’re safe,” my dad said.
“As you can see, I’m in one piece,” I said, glancing down at my body.
“He means both physically and emotionally,” my mom said with probing eyes. “Don’t you, Peter?”
My dad gave me a pursed-lip smile and nodded. “Of course.”
I chuckled. “I’m fine. I just had an unfortunate mishap with Nicholas in Miami and thought it was better if I came here.”
“What sort of mishap?” my dad asked.
I imagined my dad’s response to hearing I taped cutouts from a magazine on my breasts and genital area. He might faint. Then I visualized his response to hearing I accidentally exposed myself in this condition to two male strangers. He might have a heart attack. “The kind of mishap one does not tell her father.”
He cocked his head.
“Trust me. You don’t want to know.”
His face turning red, my dad stood up and tucked his book under his arm. “You don’t need to beat me with a stick.” Taking his glass of wine with him, he said, “I’ll be inside.”
My mom looked at me with amusement. “This should be good.”
“I’m not entirely comfortable sharing it with you either, Mom.”
“Now I really need to know.”
I closed my eyes, but in the darkness of my mind, I could still see Nicholas’s shocked expression at realizing his colleagues had a clear view of his girlfriend in the buff. If Lucy attempted a sexy surprise on Desi in a twenty-first-century adaption of I Love Lucy, it would probably go down exactly like this.
“As long as it doesn’t involve hamsters, I can handle it,” my mom continued.
I opened my eyes. “Gross, Mom.”
“I read Fifty Shades of Grey. Apparently, anything goes,” my mom said, a twinkle in her eyes.
I laughed despite myself. “I think Nicholas and I are having some problems.” I grimaced. It was the first time I had voiced my concern so definitively.
“Sexual problems?” my mom asked.
“No.” Cringing at the memory of the day’s happenings, I said, “This afternoon notwithstanding, I don’t think sex is the issue.” The events of the last twenty-four hours took their toll on me, and my shoulders slumped. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now, Mom, I’m sorry.” I stood up. “I’m tired. You mind if I take a nap?”
My mother frowned at me, her forehead creased with concern. “Sure, baby. Get some rest. I’m here if you need me.”
I forced a smile. “I always need you, but I’m beat from the flight and…” My head spun as I mentally ran through the additional causes of my fatigue. My life had been on overdrive for the past few months—between Felicia’s offer of representation and my corresponding rewriting efforts, my fight with Bridget, my failed attempts to maintain my boyfriend�
��s attention, and keeping up with my day job and Pastel Is the New Black—it was no wonder I was burned out. “I’m just pooped,” I said, keeping it simple. I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before trudging inside.
Chapter 33
The creak of the door opening woke me. My mom popped her head in the room. “Kim,” she whispered. “You have a guest.”
My eyelids still heavy from my nap, I raised my arms over my head and yawned. “Who is it?”
Nicholas walked in and closed the door behind him. “Just me.” He had changed out of his suit into black shorts and a Steely Dan t-shirt.
“Hi,” I said, burying my head in the pillow.
Nicholas sat next to me on the bed with his feet dangling off the side. Patting my legs under the covers, he said, “Hey, Kimmie. Or should I say Strawberry?” He opened his hand and dropped the cutouts on the bed.
Squeezing the pillow tighter over my head, I said, “Ugh. I’m mortified. And so sorry.”
“It’s true, when I envisioned you meeting my colleagues, I pictured something else entirely,” he said while rubbing my back. “But at least the important bits were covered, and if anything, they think I have the sexiest girlfriend ever. I tend to agree with them.”
I threw the pillow off my head and stared up at him. “I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?”
Despite the flirtatious words a moment ago, his expression was all business. “No, but I had some awkward explaining to do. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I wanted to surprise you.” I threw my hands up in the air. “Surprise!”
Nicholas gave me a halfhearted smile. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be thrilled to discover you naked in my hotel bed, but…”
“But your colleagues were with you. I know. It never occurred to me you’d bring them back to your hotel room.” I grimaced at the memory.
Nicholas ran a hand through his hair. “Your near peep show was one thing, but the fact you’re here in the first place is what I’m confused about. What’s going on?”
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