Page 48 of The Road to Finding Us

Plus, it’s always been my thing to sleep furthest away from the door if possible. That way, if a murderer happens to come through, I won’t be the first to go down.

I drop my bag onto the bed, my body following suit. I practically melt into the mattress, and it’s oddly comfy for a hotel bed. Just when I’m starting to doze off from the car ride, my phone vibrates from my pocket. I pull it out, checking to see who it is.

Veronica: Hey! Where are you now?

Lily: Nashville

Veronica: Yee-haw! *cowboy emoji*

Veronica: Are you going to ride Aspen tonight?

Lily: STOP IT!!!!!

Veronica: Stop what?

Lily: You know exactly what. We are no longer friends.

Veronica: Aww, don’t say that. You’re stuck with me, babe.

Lily: Nope.

Veronica: Oh, c’mon. You love me. Plus, I’m not the one that admitted to having the best sex of my life with Aspen…

Lily: YOU PROMISED TO NEVER SPEAK OF THAT AGAIN

Veronica: Is it technically speaking if it’s texted? Asking for a friend…

Lily: I confessed that after way too many margaritas. We aren’t speaking of it. Or texting of it. Nothing.

Veronica: Suit yourself. All I’m saying is…giddy up, cowgirl!

I throw my phone into my bag, deciding to ignore Veronica and her antics. She must think she’s hilarious, taunting me with information I gave her while very inebriated. I don’t know what her fasciation is, with Aspen and I sleeping together, but she’ll get over it. Eventually.

My stomach growls, alerting me to the fact that I haven’t eaten in forever, the lone piece of beef jerky Aspen shared with me barely counting as sustenance. I don’t know if Aspen has plans for us for food, but considering he’s still not in here, I start my search for the room service menu.

While walking toward the desk against the middle of the wall, it occurs to me I haven’t examined the room much. Looking around, I finally realize how nice this room is. The floors are a beautiful dark hardwood, a sharp contrast against the stark white walls and hotel bedding. The headboards of our two beds are made of a beautiful, dark wood, both resting against a polka-dot wallpapered wall. It all flows together seamlessly, mixing modern textures with minimalistic features.

My jaw drops when I walk into the bathroom, falling instantly in love with the floor. Black and white tiles, placed together in a beautiful mosaic. I stare at where my bare feet stand over the design, wiggling my toes against the cold floor. The walls of the bathroom are black, with a white tub and a shower sitting in opposite corners. The towels are an emerald green. Part of me wants to live in this bathroom. The design is gorgeous, something I’d love to put in a house of my own one day.

Continuing my mission, I leave the bathroom and pick up the room service menu. I call the front desk (not getting the receptionist who’s probably still flirting with Aspen) and order enough food to feed a small army.

Fifteen minutes later, Aspen’s still gone, but there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I yell, hopping off the bed and closing the distance to the door. Once I open the door, I’m met with a multitude of delicious aromas.

“Where would you like the food?” the waiter asks, pushing the cart in while I step aside.

“Right here is good.” I point to the spot directly in front of my bed. He wastes no time aligning the cart in front of my bed and excusing himself.

I dig into my food, channel surfing while shoveling the food into my mouth at record speed. I land on an old episode of reality TV, getting suckered into the housewife drama while I feast on all the carbs—pasta, bread, fries. You name it, I ordered it all.

After god knows how long, Aspen finally walks into the room, setting his bag on the floor.

“Have fun?” I ask innocently, chewing my fry.

“Yep. After I finished talking with Giselle, I had to make a phone call. After that, I went to the hotel store and got us some party favors.” He pulls out a few bottles of liquor and lines them up on the desk under the TV.

“I have no desire to drink and have a hangover in the car tomorrow.”

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