Page 56 of Always Be an Us

It might have been triggered by a whole host of things. The conversation with Micah two days ago was probably one of them. He tried very hard to convince me of his simple plan which was apparently the answer to our predicament...

"You don’t have to do much," he said. "I’ll take care of most of the details."

"And what are these details?"

He smirks. "The less you know about the specifics the better. Plausible deniability and all that. But all you need to know is that we can slowly sabotage the development and make it more frustrating for both of our fathers to continue this insanity. I’m talking about missing equipment, delayed paperwork, etc. I have a guy high up in the county who can make all this an excruciating process."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you mean to waste even more of our money?"

"Don’t worry about the money," he said. "It’ll come out of my end. If our parents have their way, trust me, this place will shut down within the first years. That would be after millions of dollars got sunk into marketing and launching this hotel, money that we might never recoup. Better to waste a little bit of money now than to waste a lot of money later."

I watch the devious gleam grow in his eyes, but he's without his usual irritating smile.

He's dead serious about this.

And I can’t lie, the idea is tempting. I also had to agree with him: this entire project feels like money down a sink. Even if we managed to build the lodge, there is no guarantee that we can attract people with money to such a remote area, in such a small town, especially when there are far more interesting places within driving distance.

So Micah's plan isn't a bad one, per se.

But I still hesitated.

Whenever I think about agreeing to it, all I can see is Emma taking my hand, her big eyes pleading with me, her scent surrounded by the lake, or perhaps so subsumed by it, merging with her until it becomes one with her.

I sigh now, rubbing my temples. Despite the chaos in my mind, the thought of Emma flows to me like a gentle waterfall, soothing and calm. She reminds me of the lake outside the Pink Hotel, where I usually walk when I need to think. It's where I find myself at noon, taking in the air as the cicadas chirp.

I turn back to the Pink Hotel, which seems to almost gleam in the sun and for a moment I have an image of its former glory.

Who knew this place would become like my second home?

It seems I now spend more time here than at the Marriot Hotel, especially since Amelia left. The hotel suite somehow feels very empty now and there’s nothing there for me, other than a place to sleep.

Sleep and work. My daily routine.

I guess, without my daughter, I don’t have much of a life.

And usually, I don’t mind. I had plenty of fun in my younger days and perhaps part of maturing is accepting the daily boredom of existence, the subtle hollowness that never quite leaves.

I only have to remind myself that my life isn't a bad one. It’s good enough.

And good enough is good enough

Speaking of Amelia...

I slip the phone from my pocket and slide to unlock it, noting the lack of missed calls. Amelia calls most days to complain about her mother's neuroticism, but she hasn't called me today and it's evening in Paris.

I decide to call her instead.

"Hello?" Amelia sounds surly when she picks up.

"You sound like you’re in a good mood," I quip.

She sighs. "Mom is freaking everyone out. Last night's show was a disaster because one of the models puked on the runway all over her dress and some lady from Vogue got hit too. Mom says it’s sabotage, but I think it’s probably because the girl hasn’t eaten for days. And according to Esther, mom's assistant, the model took some laxatives the night before to get rid of some extra bloat. Mom's lucky she didn’t shit herself."

I chuckle. "Sounds pretty eventful."

"Yeah. And today, Mom is like a drill sergeant making sure that no one eats anything before going on the runway. She’s confiscated food from even the staff and security. So now, everyone is cranky, including me." She lets out a heavy breath. "Anyway, I wanna come home."

"You'll be home before you know it. It's only a few days left of fashion week."

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