Page 15 of My Surprising Valentine

“Text me when you’re home, okay?”

I nodded, my throat feeling tight at the unvoiced statement contained in that request. David’s health issues extended beyond just the physical. My brother thought he was doing a good job at hiding his depression from his friends, but we all saw it for what it was, and we had a pact to watch out for him. He would die of embarrassment if he knew how we kept each other in the loop, but some things were too important to leave to chance.

My agreement to update him on David’s well-being secured, Max turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing faintly down the hall. As I watched him go, I let out a slow breath, my chest aching with the emotions I’d been holding back. The soft click of the exterior door reached my ears as I pressed my cold hands to my overheated face. I was playing with fire, and the worst part was that I wasn’t sure I didn’t want to burn.

Chapter Seven

Max pulledmy suitcase out of the back of his Range Rover while I stood frozen in place, staring at the grand stone building where my cousin’s wedding and reception were taking place like it was my doom.

“You look like you’re about to face a firing squad,” Max teased, slinging his fancy Italian leather duffel over his shoulder.

I tore my gaze away from the hotel’s exterior, forcing a small laugh. “I didn’t expect everyone to be here already.” Through the double doors, I could see members of my extended family milling around the lobby, dressed in coordinated burgundy and pink outfits—Melody’s request for the rehearsal dinner—chatting like they didn’t have a care in the world.

“You knew we had to get this over with at some point. Better now than at the rehearsal itself, right?”

I shot him a glare as I grabbed my bag from his outstretched hand.

“Relax, Han,” Max said softly, stepping close enough to wrap his arm around my shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

And for a moment, I almost believed him.

Inside,the lobby was a hive of activity. Three of my great-aunts were clustered around the foot of the grand staircase, gossiping like it was their job, while some of my many cousins’ kids darted between luggage carts while their frazzled parents shouted after them. Max kept his arm firmly around me as we made our way to the front desk, playing his part perfectly—though after several days of carefully maintained distance, even this casual contact had my nerves firing on all cylinders.

The desk clerk glanced up as I approached. He wore the harried look of someone barely hanging onto their last shred of patience. “Welcome to the Harrington Hotel. Checking in?”

“Yes. Hannah Carlisle,” I said, sliding him my driver’s license.

Behind me, I could practically feel the stares of at least six relatives, including the most judgemental of the bunch, my mother’s sister, Aunt Bettina.

The clerk typed something into the computer, his brows furrowing for a moment before he said, “Ah, yes. There it is. A junior suite with a king-sized bed.”

I started to nod my head in agreement until I realized what he’d just said. One bed, not the two I’d specifically paid for.

“Umm, no. I specifically reserved a room with two beds,” I whispered as I glanced over my shoulder to see my terrible cousins Rachel and Jessica lounging in a nearby sitting area, their heads bent together as they discussed what I could only assume was the latest bit of family gossip. The last thing I needed was for them to overhear this conversation. “Can you check again, please?”

The clerk—Brandon, according to his name tag—tapped at his keyboard with growing uncertainty as he squinted at the screen. “I’m really sorry, ma’am, but I’m only showing one reservation under Hannah Carlisle for a junior suite with a king-sized bed.”

“That’s impossible.” I fumbled for my phone, pulling up the confirmation email. “See? One standard room with two queen beds; says it right here.” There was no way I could have ever afforded a suite in a hotel like this, and I never would have booked a room with only one bed.

Brandon’s expression turned apologetic as he glanced at my phone. “Yes, I see that.”He clicked several more keys, frowning even more. “There may have been some kind of glitch in our system, or perhaps you’re one of the lucky guests who received a complimentary upgrade?” He glanced uncertainly between Max and me, clearly not understanding what the problem was.

“But we need two separate beds,” I protested, my voice rising slightly before Max squeezed my shoulder gently. I could feel myself starting to spiral, so I forced myself to pull a deep breath into my lungs and let it out slowly, counting to five as I did.

“I understand, ma’am. And truly, I’m incredibly sorry for the error. I’ve made a note of it in the system for the general manager to look into it further so that something like this doesn’t happen in the future. Unfortunately, for today, there’s nothing I can do. Your original room has already been assigned to another guest.”

Max’s arm slid from my shoulders to my lower back, and even that slight adjustment in his touch felt like a live wire against my skin. After six days of deliberately trying to put space between us after our kiss, the simple touch threatened to be my undoing.

“And there’s no suite available with two queen beds instead? I’m willing to pay for the upgrade if needed,” I said, my voice turning pleading.

Max’s hand dropped from my back—the loss of contact leaving me feeling oddly bereft. He reached into his jacket to pull out his wallet, retrieving a credit card I was sure didn’t come with a spending limit. He set it down on the counter, a silent offer to pay for it instead.

Brandon shook his head apologetically, his pained expression seeming to beg us for understanding. Knowing my mom’s loud, brash family, the poor man had probably been yelled at multiple times already this afternoon. “I’m truly sorry. We’re completely booked with the DeLuca-Moretti wedding. You’re lucky to have a room here at all. We had to move several friends of the groom to our sister hotel this morning.”

I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white.

One room. One bed.

The universe wasn’t just conspiring against me; it was actively trying to kill me.

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