by S. E. Harmon
I reached up to store my suitcase overhead, found my compartment was full, and sighed. Of course it was. Why would someone put his luggage in the seat compartment he was actually sitting in? That would be far too simple. Connor reached over, wordlessly took my bag, and proceeded to heft it into the compartment three seats ahead of us.
“Hey, can you grab my iPad?” I asked, and he nodded, clearly still a little breathless.
I flopped down in my seat. I don’t know why I bothered to pull out all my electronics. I usually fell asleep two minutes after we reached cruising altitude. Planes were as good as a sleeping pill for me, especially night flights. Maybe it was the other sleeping passengers or the low lights.
When I glanced over at Connor, he was buckling himself in tightly, as though we were going into orbit. He’d unearthed a pair of Bose headphones from his carry-on, and they were draped around his neck.
I gave him a poke. “Where’s my iPad?”
“In your bag where it belongs, Rip Van Winkle.” He held out a neck pillow, and I took it with a scowl. “I got you this instead. Fifty bucks says you don’t even make it out of Florida awake.”
I stared down at the pillow roll. It gave me pause to realize someone else knew my habits pretty damn well. But I knew a lot about Connor’s habits too. I knew he wouldn’t start listening to his music until we were airborne. He probably had a piece of gum somewhere on his person for popping his ears. He would eventually request a Sprite with extra ice, and he’d listen to his iPhone for a while and catch up on his Scrabble requests.
He looked at me questioningly. “What?”
I looked away, chewed gently on the inside of my cheek, and worried a millimeter of flesh between my teeth. Not enough to bruise. Just deep enough to keep me quiet.
Things would’ve been so much easier if I could’ve fallen for you.
Easier wasn’t always better. Maybe that was how you knew you’d made the right decision—even when it was hard, even when it made you angry, disappointed. If you’d make that choice again every day and twice on Sundays, then maybe you could at least know you made the right one.
I realized Connor was still patiently waiting for my answer, and I shook my head. “Nothing. Thanks for coming, by the way. I know this isn’t the most exciting way to spend your vacation days.”
“Don’t be silly.” He gave me a little half smile. “Why else would I be here?”
“Booze, so far as I can tell. I promised to comp your drinks.”
“Just making sure you didn’t forget. An oral agreement is legal and binding.” He secured his travel pillow around his neck and leaned back, eyes drifting shut. “Wake me if something exciting happens.”
“No problem.” I messed up the front of his carefully styled hair with a quick, fond tousle. “I’ll wake you just as we’re flying into the side of a mountain like a lawn dart.”
“Ass.”
“No use in sweet-talking me now.”
THE ALARM shook me out of a fantastic dream the next morning. I didn’t even know what the dream was about. I only knew it was pleasant and, judging from the state of my dick, sexual. I shut the alarm off with a groan and rolled over in bed—an unfamiliar bed. It was a lot softer than mine, and I blinked and took in my surroundings for a few confusing seconds before I remembered where I was and what I was supposed to do later that day.
My stomach fluttered. I waited for the nerves to set in and gave myself a good minute for the possibility of a freak-out, but my stomach settled fairly quickly. I was pleasantly surprised when I inventoried my emotions and only found a slight bit of anticipation. Hmm. Maybe I was evolving after all.
I smiled at the thought—because no I freaking wasn’t—and headed for the bathroom. I fannied about in the shower for a while and took advantage of the seemingly endless hot water. Eventually I forced myself out and into a terry cloth robe. I had managed a quick shave and brushed my teeth when there was a sharp knock at the door.
“Comin’,” I called, my cheeks full of mouthwash.
I spat out in the sink and rinsed my mouth, and the knock came again. I hustled for the door as I swiped at my face with a washcloth. “Coming, coming, coming. I’m not even dressed yet.” I opened the door and blinked.
I expected to see Connor, but instead I was greeted with a profusion of color—flowers, and lots of them. My brow creased in confusion as the blossoms shifted to reveal a bellhop with a decidedly bored expression. “These are for you,” he said needlessly.
“Are you sure?”
“Are you Dr. Kelly Cannon?”
“Yeah.”
“Then these are for you.” He stuck them in my face again, and I sneezed. I finally took the cut-crystal vase, but I only had a moment to sniff them before he held up his iPad and pointed. “Sign here, please.”
I did as he requested and signed with my finger on a screen already smudged with fingerprints. When he took the iPad back, I snapped my fingers. “I don’t have cash on me—”
“Tip has been taken care of.” If he sounded any more bored, he might have fallen down dead. “Have a good one.”
I latched the door, looked down at the flowers, and sniffed them again. Then I pulled out the card that was stuck on a little plastic prong and read the inscription underneath a picture of a teddy bear.
I wanted to wish you luck, but I know you don’t need it. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. Love, Blue (and yes, I know that rhymes).
Big sap. It took me a moment to realize I was smiling. I’d never gotten flowers before—a potted plant or two from my mother with careful instructions on how to keep it alive, but never flowers. I sat them on the desk and had a brief moment to enjoy them before there was another knock at the door. And so it began.
By seven thirty I received breakfast from room service in the form of heart-shaped pancakes, a bunch of balloons, and a hand-tailored suit. I shook my head as I hung the suit on the closet rack, next to the one I brought with me. There was no contest—my old suit practically curled into my garment bag in shame. I ran a hand down the sleeve of the new one—a deep navy blue with a subtle pinstripe pattern—and absently felt the fine material.
My stomach wobbled.
Ah. There they were… the nerves, and right on time. I sat on the little bench in front of the bathroom and took a deep breath. My phone buzzed on the counter, and I grabbed it, knowing it was Blue before I looked at the screen.
I wanted to make sure you were up.
I texted him back quickly. You mean the parade of deliverymen weren’t supposed to wake me?
The text dots appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared again. Too much?
Overboard, thy name is Blue.
LOL
I sent him a winking emoticon. It was very thoughtful, thank you.
I decided not to tell him that all his thoughtful gestures had sent me into a tizzy of nervousness, and put the phone back on the counter with a clatter. I gripped my stomach and tried to think positive thoughts. Right then all I could think was that I was extremely sorry I’d eaten all three pancakes under that cloche… and the bacon. It was a monumental, horrible occasion—I’d never been sorry for eating bacon.
I glanced at my phone again. I hadn’t penciled in enough time to stall and freak out, so it was time to get a grip. I got dressed, and each layer felt more constricting than the last, even though the fit was perfect. As I tied my blue-and-black-striped tie in the mirror, I could honestly say I looked nothing like I felt. On the inside I was a mold of half-set Jell-O. On the outside the tailored perfection of my new suit made me look put together, capable.
I lifted my chin. I was capable. It wasn’t just the suit. I was Dr. Kelly Cannon, and I had earned the right to be the keynote speaker. The board loved my speech, and everyone else was going to as well. I was confident and accomplished and ready. I sniffed. So there, nerves, back off. The power of positive thinking was… absolute and utter bullshit.
I raced for the toilet and emptied my cookies
.
By the time I brushed my teeth thoroughly and headed out the door, Connor was in the hall, hand poised to knock. “Good morning.” He lifted his brows. “You look like death warmed over.”
“Thank you.” I pretended to preen. “But you might want to ease up a little on the flattery.”
He laughed. “Hey, everyone can’t look as good as I do.” He did a quick spin. “You like? Bought it just for your stupid nerd fest.”
I gave him the once-over. He’d gone with black slacks and a dark green button-down that made his eyes look less hazel and more green, which I was sure he was absolutely aware of. The black sport coat he paired it with made his shoulders look broader than usual, and I had to agree, he did look pretty damn good.
“You look less horrible than usual,” I told him.
He grinned. “Looks like there’s a hater on the twelfth floor.”
“I just want your head to be able to fit through the door and not float off into the stratosphere like an overinflated balloon.”
“Don’t you worry about my head,” he said with a poke to my side. “As pleasant as bantering with you is, we should probably get downstairs. You ready?”
“Of course.”
He looked me up and down. “Where’s your speech?”
I snapped my fingers. Right. Of course. “One sec,” I said as I swiped the keycard and hustled back into the room.
I had an electronic copy, of course, but I thought it would be better to print it out, just in case. I even used larger font and brighter paper to help me keep my place. I spotted the papers on the second bed and grabbed them. Then I dropped them. I grabbed them again, even though they were hopelessly out of order, and made a neat stack.
I headed back outside and waved the stack of papers at Connor. “Ready.”
“Where’s your badge?”
They issued ID badges in the welcome packet that we all had to wear. I glanced down at my front as though I expected to see it hanging there, even though I knew I’d left it on the table. “Right.”
I went back in and grabbed the badge. As I was walking toward the door, Connor called out, “Your phone?”
“Got it,” I called when I certainly did not.
By the time I headed back outside, I was extra thankful I’d set my alarm early—clearly I needed an extra fifteen minutes to spin around in circles like a dog chasing his tail. I left my keycard in the room on my last jaunt back inside, but I kept quiet about it. Hopefully they could just issue me another.
My fingers shook as I tried to clip my badge on, and Connor took it from me and gave me a meaningful look as he secured it to my jacket. If I had to guess, that look probably meant “calm the fuck down.”
“Now I’m ready,” I said brightly.
From the doubtful look on his face, I knew I wasn’t fooling anybody, but I had to try. We headed for the elevator in silence. When we got there, I pushed the button four times and tapped my foot nervously.
“Kel?” I glanced over at Connor. His eyes were dark with concern. “Are you sure you’re going to be able to do this?”
The elevator in the middle made a ding noise, and the doors whooshed open. As we got on, I grumbled, “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“You’re asking me if I’m sure I want to get married while I’m wearing a five-thousand-dollar wedding dress,” I informed him. I pushed the lobby button four times.
He rubbed my shoulder and winced. “Jesus, you’re wound tighter than a spring.”
Understatement. I was a slinky at the top of a flight of stairs.
As we descended to the lobby, he gave me a shoulder rub until the tension of my muscles actually hurt his hand. The doors opened, and as we stepped off, he grimaced and flexed his injured digits. “Good grief. I’m going to get you some coffee and some ice for my hand.”
“I don’t need any coffee,” I muttered as he headed for the banquet room, which was in the opposite direction from the conference hall. “I need cocaine.”
He heard me anyway. “I’m assuming if they’re out of blow, you want french vanilla?”
“Yes,” I said resignedly.
Then I headed down the hallway toward the conference room. I didn’t even know what I was so worried about. There would probably be fifty people or so. If the early hour didn’t turn them away, certainly the topic would. Most people used these conferences as a chance to expense a sort of pseudovacation on their employer’s dime. They weren’t really going to turn out in droves to hear what I had to say. What was I even worried about?
But when I reached the conference hall and peeked in the doors, it looked like over a hundred people in there, and we didn’t even start for another forty-five minutes. I glanced at the fire safety sign a little maniacally. Surely the room was at capacity. Maybe someone should call the fire marshal and check.
Carole waved across the room, and I waved back weakly. She started to cut a path through the room in my direction, but I pretended not to notice and quickly let the doors close. I speedwalked down the hall with purpose until I turned the corner. Then I sat on an upholstered bench next to a large potted plant and fastened my gaze on my sheaf of papers and pretended to go over my speech. When Connor finally strolled down the hallway with a cup of coffee in each hand, I smiled weakly and wiped the sweat gathering at my hairline.
“There you are,” he said. He held out one of the coffee cups, and the smell wafted under my nose. “Fresh coffee. They only had hazelnut creamer. I hope that’s okay.”
My stomach roiled, and I stood quickly and headed for the bathroom before I lost what was left of my special heart-shaped pancakes right on their polished hardwood floors. I rushed down the corridor, turned a corner, and bumped into Carole, who smiled pleasantly.
“Dr. Cannon. Do you have a minute? I’d like to discuss the running order of the conference with you.”
“Of course,” I managed. “Just give me a few minutes?”
“I’ll be in the room next to conference room B.”
I wasn’t going back to conference room B. Ever. Conference room B was the Bermuda Triangle to me. “I’ll see you in ten.”
By the time I hit the bathroom door with the flat of my hand, I was hyperventilating just a bit. A guy at the sink gave me a concerned look as I staggered up to the sink next to him and rested my hands on the porcelain edge.
“Hey, buddy. You okay?”
“Yes,” I said definitively.
He shrugged and pulled off a few paper towels from the dispenser. I listened with half an ear as he went about his business, wiped his hands, and threw the paper towels in the trash.
By the time he left, I was breathing a little slower, and I wormed a finger between my damp neck and my collar. I was okay, a mature adult, and I just needed a moment to gather myself. Then I locked myself in a stall and sat on the toilet.
THE HOTEL men’s room was pretty fancy and had the kind of doors that almost went to the floor. It was a good feature if you ever wanted to hide in a bathroom stall for all of eternity, but it had a long way to go for privacy. The bathroom door opened and footsteps led to my stall. Again. I didn’t know if Connor was getting tired of checking on me, but I was certainly tired of seeing his shoes.
He cleared his throat, and I wondered if he knew he had a tendency to balance on his left foot when he was worried. “Kel? I’m starting to get a little… concerned here.”
I quietly picked at a few hairs and pieces of fluff on my trouser leg. I was a failure, but there was no need to be a linty failure. “About what?”
“Your mental stability, for one.” He sighed. “You are aware that the conference starts in fifteen minutes?”
“I am.”
“I told Carole that you were having some digestive problems. She looked pretty worried.”
The guilt deepened. “Tell her I have explosive diarrhea.”
Connor spluttered. “I’m not telling her…. You don’t, do you?”
�
�Yes.”
“You do not.”
I made an exasperated noise. “Then why’d you ask?”
“Because… because this is ridiculous,” he exploded. “Now you come out of there right this minute.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Kelly….”
“I’m sorry, but I live here now.”
“I’m going outside,” he said with a huff. “You know, where the adults are? And I’d better see you out there in the next ten minutes.”
His ringing footsteps against the tile sounded like a threat.
“Good luck with that,” I called out to no response, and I realized he’d already left and missed my rejoinder. I blew out a frustrated breath. Even in a dire situation, I hated it when he got the last word.
IT WASN’T long before Connor was back, and he sounded awfully smug. “This time I’ve got it.”
I looked suspiciously at his shiny shoes. “You don’t got it.”
“Oh, but I do. I’m going to tell Carole that you’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“You tell her whatever you want—” The door of the bathroom swung shut, and since I was tired of him walking on out my responses, I shouted the rest. “Because I’m not coming out.”
I covered my eyes with my hands. I just might get fired when it was all said and done. Maybe I could hand off my speech to someone else. Carole or Dr. Arlo could give it just as well as I could. The Q and A session afterward would probably have to be canceled, but at least they wouldn’t be left in the lurch. Hell, at that point, I didn’t care if the bellhop did it, as long as someone else had to get up in front of those hundreds of people.
Measured steps approached my stall, but I didn’t bother to open my eyes. If it was someone who had to use the bathroom, he was free to use any of the other four stalls. If it was security or the cops, well, they knew how to use dynamite, didn’t they?
There was a brief tap at my door.
I uncovered my eyes and saw a pair of expensive-looking wingtip shoes. “Occupied,” I croaked. “Maybe forever.”
I heard a soft chuckle. “I guess we could move in here, but I don’t think they’re going to let us bring Waffles.”