Page 2 of Misbooked for Love

“Clarita,” she says, a sigh catching on her lips. As if she has been waiting with bated breath for me to let her know I arrived. “Did you arrive safely? Is everything okay? Are you warm enough?” Her voice is filled with concern, which only makes me smile more. Ever since I moved back in with them, she’s been just far enough not to hover but close enough to be there, immediately, if I need her.

“Just walked into my room,” I say, turning on my heels and looking around. There’s a staircase to the left of the kitchen, and by the looks of it from down here, there’s at least one bedroom on the second level and a few other doors that look like they could be closets or bathrooms. The island is big enough to sit six, the dark stone countertops reflecting the overhead light. It’s masculine and modern, slightly industrial, but at the same time cozy and warm, like a hot cup of coffee on acool, crisp morning. “I think I could ski out of this room. It has a little patio outside and it’s literally a step away from the snow.”

“I still can’t believe you went all the way to that ski resort in Canada by yourself,” she says, like every single day for the past week since I decided to take this trip. “Are you sure this is what you need?”

“Ma,”I whisper into the phone, dragging my suitcase with me towards the stairs. “Ya lo hablamos.” Yes, it’s exactly what I need. A little adventure, something new, to get me out of that funk and out of your house. And to be as far away as possible from Argentina. But I don’t say that, because she’ll worry. Instead, I roll my eyes affectionately and chuckle. “But honestly, it’s so nice here.”

She sighs, not convinced. “I just don’t want you to be alone, especially after… you know. Everything.”

Thateverythingshe’s talking about is the string of breakups I’ve had since my relationship with Santiago Williams—the longest I've ever had—ended three years ago. And one day, I woke up with the sudden urge to explore and see things I’d never seen before and booked a trip to the middle of the mountains to a ski resort because, honestly, it was a great use of the thousands of points I had accumulated, but also because I wanted to be very far away, hoping the distance would help sort my feelings out.

“Mami,that’s the whole point.”

“Bueno está bien,” she relents, though I can hear the worry still lacing her voice. “Just be careful and keep warm and call me tomorrow, okay? It’s late here.”

“We can FaceTime and I can show you the mountain.”

“Chau, hija.”

I hang up and stare at the phone for a moment before tucking it away and heading up the stairs, dragging, yet again, the giant suitcase that’s been following me for the past twenty-four hours. “Alright, we got this. A little adventure. This will be perfect.”

Once in the room, I pull out all my clothes and put them away neatly, using half of the dresser drawers and one side of the walk-in closet. I’m not sure who vacations here, but the bedroom is huge—a large bed in the middle and a walk-in closet the size of my bedroom back home. I’m staying for twelve days, anexcessive amount, according to my mother, and I want to be comfortable. And if I’ve learned anything from all my years as a flight attendant, it’s that unpacking makes even the shortest of stays feel like a luxury vacation instead of a thirteen-hour layover in an airport hotel.

My winter clothes—or rather, the borrowed stuff I was able to collect from my group of friends—sits at the bottom of the suitcase. Thermal leggings, three thick sweaters, an extra pair of gloves, a few options for hats and a long jacket that looks more like asleeping bag than a coat that I still don’t know how to properly zip, but which promises I’ll be warm enough in this crazy climate.

After a few minutes of wrestling with the layers, I finally manage to get everything on, looking like a puffed-up red balloon in the process. My cheeks are pink and my hair is both matted and staticky at the same time, and I make a mental note to take a long bath after I find something to eat.

The hotel is big, and the hallway the villas are in seems endless. I decide to walk in the opposite direction I came in, hoping that at some point I can find an exit and I don’t have to walk all the way back to the hotel’s lobby. There’s a family with young kids entering their room up ahead, the luggage cart overflowing with suitcases and skis and grocery bags filled with food. The two small children are jumping up and down, impatiently waiting for their father to open the room door.

I’m distracted by the little girl in two tiny braids, hugging a small stuffed pig, and I bump into a tall, broad-shouldered man who is heading in my direction. He is mid-conversation on his phone, his voice low and soft. “I know…”

“Sorry,” I stammer, taking a step back, feeling my cheeks flush from more than just the heat in the hallway.

He glances at me briefly, hisexpression annoyed. “More careful,” he mutters, his focus back on his call, brushing past me without another word.

I watch him disappear around the corner, my annoyance flaring, but quickly dissolving because I’m suddenly so hungry that my stomach starts making loud noises.

I’ll make friends tomorrow.

2

TOM

The resort lobby is warm,decorated with heart-shaped garlands and red and pink ribbons everywhere, the kind of festive cheer that usually makes people smile. But I’m not smiling. I stand at the check-in desk, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter as the receptionist, a cheerful woman with a light-up heart necklace, fumbles with my reservation.

“Thomas Hall, right?” she says, her tone bright, like she’s determined to spread her Valentine’s Day cheer no matter what. “Thomas Edward Hall, III?”

“That’s me,” I reply, trying to force what I think could pass as a smile. Inside, though, I’m fuming. This skiing trip was supposed to be a chance to reconnect with Ellie, to make up for all the missed weeks thatI’ve been traveling for work. But she’s stuck on the other side of the continent, snowed in at her mother’s house in New York, and I’m here alone, surrounded by happy families and couples holding hands.

The receptionist slides my key card across the desk. “You’re in villa fourteen, just down this hall.” She makes a gesture with her hand, indicating the right way to go. “You’ll have a great view of the slopes, and the ski lift is just a short walk away. But your villa has ski-in, ski-out privileges, so you can opt for that if it’s your preference.” She smiles. “We have a bonfire tonight on the terrace—hot cocoa, marshmallows, the works. Valet will take your remaining luggage to your room, and your ski gear will be stored downstairs in our rental shop. If you’d like for it to be brought up in the morning, just give us a call.”

“Okay, thanks,” I mutter, picking up the key. I grab my carry-on bag and make my way down the hallway, trying not to let the love songs playing softly through the speakers get under my skin. One side of the hall is lined with black-and-white photos of skiers and snowboarders, a vintage feel to the space. There are a few young children photographed, probably in the sixties or seventies, sliding down one of the tall runs, the ski lift running parallel to them. All I can think about is how Ellie was supposed to be here, right beside me, her first real ski trip.

I feel the vibration of my cellphone inmy pocket, so I stop for a moment to grab it. I don’t have to look at the screen to know it’s Erin, my ex, calling so I can talk to my daughter.

“Hey, honey,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice. She’s going to be bummed, but the least I can do is show her that there’s nothing we can do about things out of our control, so we have to take them in stride. I’ll definitely make it up to her once we’re on the same coast. Maybe I’ll get her a puppy, since she’s been asking for months.

“Hey, Dad.” Ellie’s voice is bright, despite the circumstances, and it tugs at something right in my chest. “We’re snowed in.”

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