Page 118 of Dating Goals
“Likewise, Agent Bruderlin.”
As they walk away, Showalter calls over his shoulder, “Enjoy your retirement from espionage.”
I watch them disappear around a corner, then sprint toward the elevators.
Upstairs, I burst into my room, grabbing my duffel bag and stuffing clothes inside. My brain spins with possibilities for the evening ahead. Champagne on the balcony? Room service? Or skip straight to kissing Anika senseless?
A cool draft catches my attention. The adjoining door to Elodie’s room stands open, swinging slightly from the air current from the hallway.
I approach cautiously, knocking on the doorframe. “Elodie?”
Silence greets me. I push the door wider, revealing an immaculate room. Bed made, surfaces clear, closet empty.
She’s gone. Not a trace remains, as if she never existed.
23
ANIKA
My mind calculates the minimum polite interval required before I can fake a headache and flee this date.
“So anyway, about the drainage issues in modern landscape architecture…” Thomas drones on, his fork poised midair with a chunk of chocolate cake. He hasn’t taken a bite in three minutes, too busy explaining water runoff coefficients.
I nod and smile mechanically while sneaking glances at Ivy, who’s perched on the sofa across from us. She winces slightly, rubbing her side where the baby must have kicked. Poor thing looks like she swallowed a beach ball. A very large beach ball. With another smaller beach ball inside it. James hovers nearby, checking his phone every thirty seconds as if expecting labor to begin via text message.
“So I told my supervisor the drainage system simply wouldn’t work with that gradient,” Thomas continues, finally forking a bite of chocolate cake into his mouth. “The water would pool at the eastern corner, creating a marshy area no one wants in their garden.”
I nod and smile, mastering the art of appearing interested while my mind wanders to a certain Canadian goalie withdimples deep enough to drown in. Griffin would have told a joke by now.
“Fascinating,” I murmur, taking a sip of water. “The drainage systems in Switzerland are quite efficient.”
Thomas perks up like I’ve offered him the keys to landscape architect heaven. “Are they? I’d love to hear about Swiss irrigation techniques!”
What would Griffin say to this? Probably something absurd like “In hockey, we prefer our irrigation frozen to make the puck slide better!” Followed by one of his ridiculous inspirational quotes. My lips curl involuntarily at the thought.
“Anika?” Ivy’s voice snaps me back. “Are you listening?”
“Sorry, what?” I blink rapidly.
“I asked if you’d like more wine,” James repeats, bottle hovering above my nearly empty glass.
“No, thank you,” I reply. I’m driving home…preferably soon.
Ivy shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, rubbing her massive belly. “So, Thomas, Anika runs the best pub in Grächen.”
“Really?” Thomas perks up slightly. “I imagine the accounting must be challenging for a small business.”
“It keeps me busy,” I offer blandly.
The conversation flatlines again. I desperately search for something interesting to say, but my mind drifts back to three days ago. Griffin’s victory smile after winning the poker game, the way his eyes lit up when he offered to show me his suite.
“Would you like to see my upgraded room?” he’d asked, leaning against my doorframe. “They’ve given me the Alp glow suite or whatever it’s called. Supposedly there’s a hot tub on the balcony and complimentary champagne.”
I’d already changed into my unicorn pajamas by then, hair piled messily atop my head. But more importantly, I didn’t trust myself alone with him in a luxury suite with champagne and a hot tub.
“Tempting,” I’d replied. “But I’ve already committed to this glamorous evening ensemble.”
His laugh had warmed me from head to toe.
