Page 111 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

I turned to find Vivienne Astor coming in from the revolving doors of the hotel, and she pushed her sunglasses up to the top of her head when she saw me. She, too, wore denim jeans, though hers weren’t as loose-fitting as my own. It made me feel slightly better, though. “Hi, Mrs. Astor.”

“What—what are you doing here?” Her voice was shocked, though not unkind. “Are you here to see Aaron?”

“Sumner, actually.” I tried not to let myself feel awkward, but it was hard to force any sort of confidence into my voice. “I heard he was here.”

Vivienne glanced at the lady at the front desk, as if gauging the situation. “Would you like to come up with me? I can show you to his room.”

That hadn’t been in my plan. We weren’t supposed to have this conversation in his hotel room, but outside. We could’ve walked down to the bay, or gotten coffee—anywhere where there’d be other things to focus on than each other. That was probably mystick-your-head-in-the-sandself talking. “That’d… be great.”

I walked slightly in Vivienne’s shadow as we headed to the elevators, my hands clasped in front of me like I was a kid walking toward detention. With each step, my heart drummed faster and faster in my chest, both at the anticipation of seeing Sumner and being trapped in an elevator with my ex almost mother-in-law.

And, of course, we had to wait for the elevatorto arrive to the ground floor. “I’m sorry for my son’s behavior,” she said, and her expression was genuinely remorseful. It glimmered in her eyes. “It isn’t okay in the slightest.”

“Seems like a hassle, doesn’t it?” I agreed, rocking back on my heels. “He could’ve just called me and asked me himself.”

“I’ve always known he’s had a confidence issue, but I never thought he’d send someone to feed information about you.” She bit her bottom lip. “I thought I raised him better than that.”

“Everyone makes their own choices,” I said as the elevator dinged. “No matter how they’re raised.”

My parents raised me to be a good mindless soldier, but it hadn’t worked in their favor.

A mother and her young children stepped off the elevator before we stepped on, sealed in a tiny space. It made me feel even more tense. “Last night,” she began, looking at me from the corner of her eye. “It definitely will go down in history, won’t it?”

I winced. “I’m embarrassed that I did what I did.”

“Then that makes two of us—embarrassed of our own actions.” Vivienne chuckled a little. “I shouldn’t have berated your parents the way I did, not when it was my own son who initiated this mess.”

“They deserved it,” I answered without missing a beat. “My parents, I mean.”

There was another awkward lull in the conversation as we both weighed our words. Vivienne pulled her purse from her side around so she could rifle through it, withdrawing a businesscard. “I hope you know that, if you ever need anything, I’m here for you. It might not have worked out with Aaron, but… Well. I do feel fond of you, Margot. I want to see you do good things.”

Her golden embossed name glittered in the dull elevator light, and I studied it for a moment, her words washing over me.

“And I happen to know a few designers in New York, if you ever decide to pursue fashion. I know they’d love to meet you.” Her eyes trailed my attire. “If that’s still something you’re interested in.”

“Please don’t let this trainwreck fool you; I definitely am still interested in fashion.”

We both smiled at each other, and I was shocked to find how easy it came to my lips now, how genuine it felt. How good.

The elevator stopped at the top floor, and Vivienne told me that Sumner’s room number was 608 at the end of the hall. Their room was 620, on the opposite end, and we went our separate directions then. I tucked her business card into my pocket, knowing that I’d keep it close.

I stopped before room 608, staring at the number plaque on the surface. The thought of knocking seemed impossible; my hand was made of lead at my side. My nervousness didn’t make so much sense—out of either of us, Sumner, surely, should’ve been the anxious one. He was the one who had to tell me his story. All I had to do was listen.

And that was why I wanted to go back to the elevator, go back to the lobby, and straight out the revolving doors.

Before I had a chance to run, though, the door ripped inward, revealing Sumner with his phone and wallet inhand. He had been rushing to leave his room, it seemed, because he nearly walked straight into me before he froze, his gaze rising from his phone screen.

We both held perfectly still. I broke the ice first. “Hi.”

I didn’t know why I was expecting Sumner to look different, but of course he didn’t. Of course he wasn’t decked out in designer items, with his hair slicked back in the way Aaron’s was. He wore the same jeans he’d worn the first time we went out to eat together, with the hole on his knee. His shirt was a deep navy, simple and loose on his frame. He still had the same bright blue eyes I’d looked into the day prior, still wore his hair ungelled. He was still Sumner.

“I—I’ve been calling you,” he stuttered out, reminding me, again, of the first time we met. He’d been just as nervous when I’d approached him then, swiping up the champagne flute from his tray. “All night and morning. I?—”

“My parents cut off my phone service.” It felt wrong standing before him in an outfit that cost twenty dollars, so much so that I had to actively hold myself back from fidgeting. I looked past him into his hotel room. “I’m ready to hear you out now.”

Sumner all but flung himself out of the way. “Yes, please—please come in.”

The room wasn’t a suite, with his bed in plain sight the second I walked through the door. I tried not to look at it, but there weren’t many options for seating. There was the mattress or a velvet chair in the corner.

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