Page 44 of Stealing Forever
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I scoop Sailor into my arms and deposit her on the bed. She gets comfortable sitting crisscross-applesauce, grabs the worn copy ofThe Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear,and starts flipping through the pages.
Walking over to Declan, he glances up at me and wipes at his brow. “Can’t get it to open.”
“Can I try?” I’m sure I won’t get it either, but maybe it’ll be like a jar of peanut butter. Those always open when the second person gives it a go.
He steps aside, letting go of the metal handle, and grunts. Clearly, he’s frustrated, so I don’t take his sudden flat tone personally.
After a few tugs on my end, it’s easy to conclude I’m not having any more luck than he did. Letting go of the handle, I shrug. “It was worth a shot.”
This earns me a small laugh, and he gives it another try, putting all of his strength behind it.
When it doesn’t budge, he lets out an exasperated breath of air. “Fuck. Of course, the pull-out is broken. Is thereanythingthis hotel can do right? I’m going to call the front desk.”
I’m not sure what they’ll do with no other rooms available, but I keep my mouth shut and join Sailor on the bed, mimicking her posture.
“Yes, this is Declan Lane in room twelve-fifty-six. I’m calling because the sleeper sofa won’t pull out.”
His back is to me, but it’s not difficult to see how tense he is as he listens to the person on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, I’ve tried that. It’s jammed.”
Scooting behind Sailor, I start braiding her damp hair.
“We can’t just get a replacement brought in?” His hand flies into the air. “Look, we’ve already had our hotel room messed up because someone overbooked, and now we can’t get the pull-out bed to open. We need a minimum of two beds, and you put us in a King Suite with a sleeper sofa.”
He looks at it, then his eyes meet mine. Keeping the phone cradled between his head and his shoulder, he fists his hair and shakes his head at me.
Then he hangs up without another word to the person at the front desk.
“There’s nothing they can do,” he grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m so sorry, Hailey.” His eyes shut, and a guilt settles over me, like I’m trying to take it from him. It’s not his fault, but he feels like it is. And that makes me feel awful, too.
Neither of us will fit on the couch—only Sailor will.
There’s a slight tremble in my hand as I tie off her braid with an elastic and lift my chin, trying to exude far more confidence than I feel.
“It’s fine,” I tell Declan. “We can share the bed.”
His eyes snap open. “What?”
I shrug. “We can share it. It’s not a big deal. Sailor will fit perfectly on the couch, and the bed is a king. Plenty of room for us to each take a side.”
My heart thunders with every word, but I somehow make it through that suggestion with a steady tone.
Declan doesn’t have a chance to respond. He only narrows his eyes as though he can’t quite believe what I said and is trying to fully process it, before there’s a knock at the door.
In three strides, he yanks it open and is greeted by room service. I jump to my feet and rush to my wallet to tip them, but Declan beats me to it, shoving a bill into the guy's hand before sending him on his way.
He practically slams the door, irritation still rolling off him in waves, and pushes the room service cart further into the room.
“Tip was supposed to be on me.” I smile softly, trying to lighten his mood.
“As if I’d let you pay for anything, Hailey.”
“Hey, now. I’m a strong, independent woman,” I tease, and watch him set Sailor’s dinner up at the desk.
“Didn’t say you weren’t, sweetheart. I just said you aren’t paying for anything.”
“So chivalrous,” I quip, pulling the top off the other two serving plates. Our burgers look amazing, and my stomach rumbles in appreciation.
