Page 86 of Something Borrowed

“I’m sure the room is beautiful,” Stan continues doggedly. “We’re lucky to have it, aren’t we, Raff?”

I give a high-pitched laugh. “That’s us. Lucky.”

The receptionist immediately relaxes. “I’ll get your keys sorted for you.” She walks into an office behind the desk.

“I just can’t wait to thank Leo for this beautiful gift,” I say silkily. “I’m going to thank him up close andverypersonally.”

Stan

Raff leads me to the lift, explaining the layout of the lobby as we go.

“Well,” I say as we wait for the lift. “That’s a turn-up for the books.”

“It’s a bigger turn-up than anything on the bottom of your Uncle Pat’s jeans.”

I laugh, but his sighing response is weary and definitely lacking his usual spark. “You, okay?” I ask, putting my hand out for his. He immediately gives mine a firm squeeze and then lets go. “You seem bothered about the one-bed situation?” I ask cautiously.

“I’m fine. More importantly, how are you with it?”

I turn in his direction, wishing I could see his expression. His tone is hard to judge. “It’s fine. It's not the first time we’ve shared, Raff. We’ll be okay.”

“Well, what about Bennett?”

“Who?”

“The lift’s here.” We step into the lift and I put out my hand to find the rail. “Bennett, your fiancé, Stan. He’s not going to be happy at this turn of events, and he gets very vocal for a lengthy period of time when he’s not happy.”

I wave my hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine.” The lift judders into motion, and I immediately grab the rail to keep my balance.

“There’s that word again.”

“What word?”

“Fine.” His voice is tight. “I think I’d like a little more for you than that state of being, but I suppose that’s in the hands of your fiancé now.”

I open my mouth to blurt out the whole sorry story, but luckily, the lift stops, and I don't break my word. I hear the doors slide open, and I smell lavender and furniture polish.

“This way,” Raff says, and I set my hand on his arm to follow him out. His muscles are tense as if he’s clenched his fist, and I tap his wrist.

“Let’s get in, unpack, shower, and change. You’ll feel better then.”

He sighs. “If you say so. Okay, are you ready? Our room number is fifty.”

I nod, and feel him at my side as I move slowly along with my cane tapping, pausing to touch the room plaques on the doors that have braille on them. I finally come to a stop. “Lucky number fifty,” I say, trying for levity and he obligingly chuckles.

“The room-card machine is to the right of the door. Wave the fob, and it’ll let you in.”

I do as he says and there’s an electronic beep, and the door clicks. He tugs me through the door, and the breeze hits me with the sound of the sea. It’s loud.

“Wow,” Raff says. “It’s fucking lovely, Stan.”

“Tell me.”

His voice sounds normal when he speaks next, full of his usual undercurrent of vivacity. “It’s full of light because of the bi-folding doors, and the décor is very simple—white with blue accents to echo the sea. We’ve got a terrace with a hammock on it, which should please you.”

“Only if I could see when you fall out of it.”

“It was just the once. Has anyone ever told you that you are very hard-hearted?”

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