I nodded.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Phoenix.”
“Like the city?” I asked. We had a resort in Scottsdale. The city was nice enough, but why would you name a girl in the South after a city in the desert?
“Nooo, like the mythical firebird,” she said slowly, like I was slow. I didn’t like it.
I could handle anyone else looking at me like that, but not her.
“You can’t tell anyone,” I said. If my father knew about this, the lectures…and worse…would be never-ending. It would be just another way I wasn’t as good as the others. More proof that I was the weak link.
“Why would I tell anyone?” She cocked her head to the side, her hair sliding off her shoulder like a waterfall. “Then they would know I sneak back here.”
I looked around and realized we were in one of the kitchens. I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.
“Why are you back here?” I asked.
“Can you keep a secret?”
I nodded, watching the way gold flecks in her blue eyes caught the light.
She stood up, brushing the dust from her hands onto old denim shorts that were a size too big. “Come with me.”
She grabbed my hand and led me to a refrigerated unit in the back.
“Shipments come in on Tuesdays, so I can usually nab one or two and no one has any idea.”
“Shipments of what?”
She opened the back walk-in freezer, grabbed a large cake box, and then took two forks from the clean side of the dishwasher before leading us back to a small corner where no one would see us when dinner prep started.
“Here,” she said, handing me a fork, and then opened the box to reveal an entire New York cheesecake. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” I said. We spent a few hours back in that little dusty corner eating an entire cheesecake, whispering and giggling about our little secret.
It’s dark when I’m pulled out of the memory by my phone buzzing on the table.
Phoenix is still on my chest, snoring softly. I silence my phone and take a moment just to appreciate her in my arms. Then, I take a picture of us together. Her shoulders are covered by the sheets, and her face is relaxed, with no worry lines on her forehead or stress behind her eyes.
Just peace.
She looks like an angel.
I don’t send the photo to the group. I keep it. Just for me. Our little secret.
It’s a little after four, and I have no idea when the last time she ate was, so I call down for room service.
I keep it simple—club sandwiches, fries, and an entire cheesecake just for us.
“Maverick.” Her voice is groggy with sleep.
“Shhh. Go back to sleep, Firebird, I just ordered some food. You have at least another fifteen minutes until it gets here.”
She stretches though, her eyes blinking open in the dim light of the room. “No…I’m fine. I had a good nap. Tell me…tell me how the promotions are going.”
She struggles into a sitting position, taking her warmth with her.