Page 68 of The Kitchen Contract

38

NORA

This trip has felt like a mostly exciting but also scary dream—like it’s not real and I could wake up in a disoriented panic at any moment.

My flight was smooth, other than the turbulence in my heart and brain, and I checked into the hotel Miles helped me arrange last night in time to get a full night of rest. Too bad I only clocked in about four hours of sleep, what with all the anxiety and overthinking that made me feel like I was on a rollercoaster every time I shut my eyes.

Saying “sleepy kitty” to myself doesn’t seem to have the same impact as when Alex says it.

On the bright side, being up extra early gave me plenty of time to take a bath in the fancy clawfoot tub in my room and get a good breakfast at a café near the hotel. There’s nothing like a smoked salmon everything bagel and an extra-large mocha iced coffee to improve a girl’s mood and give her the energy she needs to convince a room full of people to take a chance on her.

When I get back, I take extra care with my clothes, hair, and makeup. I brought a cute black suit with a slim skirt that hits just above my knees. The jacket flounces slightly at the bottom, lending an extra air of femininity. I pair this with a white blouse and fashion my hair into a low chignon, going for a classy, professional look. My makeup and jewelry are also subtle, but I did splurge on one impractical “statement” item – a pair of lilac heels I saw in a boutique window on my way back from lunch earlier this week and knew I needed. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I can say with one hundred percent confidence that they were worth every penny. The ankle straps make my feet look dainty, and the open toes show off the pedicure I got yesterday.

I’m ready almost an hour before I have to head down to the lobby to meet Miles, so I pull the desk chair over to the window in my room overlooking the pool and try to think calming thoughts. I do my best to resist the urge to wonder what Alex is doing right now.

Annie called me a few days ago to see how I was holding up, which was sweet of her. She insisted on hearing my side of the story, which I declined to provide, not wanting her to feel like she had to choose a side since she’s part of his family. She didn’t say too much else, other than to tell me how sorry she was that it didn’t work out and to assure me that she and Maddy would be highly displeased if I let this deter me from coming to book club on Friday.

“You just love my snacks,” I teased.

“No,” she said seriously. “We love you. The snacks are just a nice bonus. So we’ll see you Friday?”

“I’ll have to catch the next one,” I told her, and I filled her in on my travel plans so that she wouldn’t think I was blowing her off.

“How exciting! Good luck! Or…break a leg? Is that term only used for stage acting or does it also work for acting-adjacent things?”

I smile, remembering her genuine excitement for me. Her kind words and my mom’s support this week were what gave me the extra shot of courage I needed to pack a bag and book a flight.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text, and I cross the room to lift it from the nightstand.

Did you make it safely? Is the West Coast as sunny and fabulous as it looks on TV?

I smile at Maddy’s text. Annie must have told her about our conversation the other day.

Made it in one piece. Hopefully I’ll still be intact by the time the meeting is over. And yes, it’s very sunny and fabulous.

Take lots of pictures, especially if you see any movie stars. What hotel are you staying at? Is it fancy?

I send her the link to the hotel website so she can see for herself—because it actually is pretty fancy—followed by a promise to keep an eagle eye out for celebrities.

Ooooh nice!! Good luck with your meeting today! Don’t forget to text and let me know how it goes.

I respond with a thumbs up.

Once the distraction of that conversation is over, I feel more restless than ever. Maybe I’ll just head down to the lobby now, in case Miles gets here early. There’s nothing for me to do in this room but think, which is the last thing I need right now. At least downstairs I might be able to do a little people-watching, maybe get a fancy non-alcoholic drink from the bar while I wait. A tiny umbrella might be just the thing to pump me up.

Grabbing my black leather tote bag—the only bag I have that is nice enough to carry to an important meeting and which might have been the determining factor for what color suit I chose—I check to make sure I have my wallet and key card before exiting into the hallway. Alone in the elevator, I pull up the last email I got from Miles to double-check the details of our meeting and to study the photo in his signature line one more time. Since I’ve never met the man in person, I want to make sure I have the right guy before I get in a car and drive away with him.

When the elevator doors slide open, I tuck my phone in my bag and step out of the elevator with all the confidence I can muster, my lilac heels making a satisfying clicking sound on the marble floors of the lobby. I scan the room as I walk, looking for a likely place to either be seated or purchase a festive refreshment, when my gaze catches on a familiar head of messy blond hair and a set of wide shoulders I could never forget coming through the doors.

I stop so fast my soles make a screeching sound, frozen in place as his gaze finds me and he changes course to stride purposefully toward me. I only have seconds to prepare myself, which is nowhere near enough time.

“Alex,” I breathe as he stops in front of me. I clutch the handle of my bag in a death grip and clear my throat. “What are you doing here?” This time, my voice sounds steady.

“Looking for you.” He offers a tentative smile that threatens to melt the wall of ice I quickly constructed around my heart when I recognized him a moment ago. I mentally shore it up with some extra sharp icicles around the top.

“Here I am. What do you want?” I’m proud of how casual and uninterested my tone is.

Alex’s smile fades. “I want to apologize. It took a week for me to catch on, but I realized yesterday afternoon that I was—I am—an idiot. I don’t know if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I sure hope you’ll give me a chance to tell you all the things I’m sorry for before you decide.”

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