Page 63 of Sins and Secrets

“Hate’em.” He starts throwing his pens into his bag. “They’re over stimulating and it’s hard to focus. I fundamentally need to get my partner off, and when there’s two, it’s more stress. Then when it’s my time… Well, most partners can run a 5 or 10K, but I’m a marathon runner.”

He zips the bag. “Why?” He squints his eyes at me and his lips curl in the corner. “Is that something Waverly wants? Hmm, I get the feeling I’m missing out. But it’s a no. One, I hate them. Two, your relationship is still new. And three, you’re clearly in love with her.” He stands and starts walking to the chair. “But ask me again in a few years. Who knows what will change.”

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Waverly

Bridal brunch.That’s what Angie wanted. French toast and steak. No bridal shower with stupid, forced-fun games. Just talking, eating, and dressing slightly nicer than yoga pants. Angie and Kyle have been living together for years now and she doesn’t need another robot vacuum. They already have one. Kyle stuck googly eyes on it and, when he’s feeling feisty, he tapes plastic knives to it and it chases the cat around the apartment. For the record, kitty wins every battle.

Bridal brunch means I’m back at the inn. The owner died the last time I was here, and the staff seems to have a constant veil of anxiety around them. Their happy smiles are a mask and their customer service voice is in top form.

Nichole works the front desk and normally greets me with a wave and a smile. Today her neck handkerchief is askew and her concealer creases make her appear older than she really is. She’s also the wedding’s coordinator. When I approach her, she blinks at me a few times before it clicks.

“Oh, hi, Waverly.” She pushes some papers around. “We’ve got the brunch favors in the back room and the welcome bags are ready to go.”

I told Angie I would do those, but Angie’s mom insisted we have the hotel staff put them together. Carol’s been doing that a lot; pushing the staff to do things we could’ve done on our own. It’s hijacking the cost of the wedding, but she doesn’t care. Nothing about this day is really about Angie and Kyle. It’s all for the parents.

“Thanks.”

Nichole grins. “They came out super cute.” She bites her lower lip and looks at the screen. “There’s been a tiny mix up with your room block, though, and I didn’t want to bother Angie with it.”

“What happened?”

“Due to the owner’s funeral, we had staff who weren't properly trained taking reservations and they gave away a room in your hotel block. It’s the night before the wedding.”

I shrug. “Are there rooms available for the night of the event?”

“Yes! We have a large party checking out.”

I smile at her. “Great, take my room and use it however you need to. I’ll pay full price for whatever room is ready the day of. Easy fix.”

But Nichole covers her mouth. “Oh no, you’ve had your reservation booked for over a year.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. I don’t mind at all. Anything I can do to help.”

Nichole gives me a grateful nod but then whispers, “Can you bring Carol over here? There’s an issue with her credit card.”

I glance over my shoulder to the Garden Room. It’s one of the smaller areas we reserved. Carol demanded the brunch to be in the reception hall, but Angie and I talked her out of it. Too much space, expense, and it took away the intimate nature of the brunch. Come to think of it, Carol’s been a huge pain in the ass since the wedding planning started. I have brushed it off and over rationalized it as her being nervous, but she’s just being pushy. Still, no reason to poke the beast, and the staff has been under enough pressure. They don’t need to deal with a pissy Carol either.

I pull out my wallet and slide my credit card over. “I’ve got it.”

“Oh no.” Nichole shakes her head. “I’m not asking you to pay.”

“What time did Carol get here and start bothering your staff?”

“Around nine.”

The clock behind Nichole’s head says 1:00 p.m.. “Just let me pay for it. And leave a spot for me to give you a tip. You deserve it.”

Reluctantly, Nichole agrees and takes the card.

I head back into the Garden Room, where a few women I recognize as Angie’s coworkers stop talking when I come in. Hmm. One of them is on her phone and tapping away, while another one instantly laughs. Weird.

Angie jumps up and rushes over to me. “Hey, glad you made it.”

I lift my eyebrow. “I planned this. Why wouldn’t I make it?”

Angie peers over her shoulder at her mom, who is sitting with her grandma in the corner. Both older women sneer and turn away. My best friend gives me a squeeze on the shoulder. “Sorry. Mom is always Team Adam.”

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