Page 73 of To Belong Together
Her pacing took her to the bathroom. A cold shower might be just the thing.
Thirty minutes later, she settled into the bed, but falling asleep took over two hours.
When she woke, the clock read 9:14 a.m. She pushed her hair away from her face with both hands. At home, she always had too many cars on the docket to sleep this late.
Or she had, before Uncle Nick’s new limitations.
She leaned toward the door but couldn’t view it clearly from bed. John had said he’d have the car back by nine. Had she missed him?
Cringing, she rose, but no key had been slid under the door.
Because she didn’t have a charger, she’d powered down her phone overnight. Now, she waited impatiently for it to turn back on.
Finally, she glimpsed John’s text.
Key’s at the front desk, sleepyhead.
According to the text’s time stamp, John had stopped by her room and determined she wasn’t awake yet at eight thirty.
She should’ve set an alarm, and he should’ve knocked louder. Didn’t he know she’d want to see him?
She dressed in yesterday’s jeans and sweatshirt, washed her face, and rinsed her mouth. After finger-combing her hair, she collected her belongings and went down to the lobby. The front desk clerk ignored the wadded-up dress she carried, inside of which she’d bundled the tights and heels. Not terribly classy, but probably not the worst he’d seen either.
She gave her room number. “Checking out, and there should be a key waiting for me.”
The clerk typed on his computer, read something on the screen, then slid both an envelope and a key onto the counter. “Before you check out, we’ve been asked to make sure you read that.” He tapped the envelope.
She barely stifled a giggle, because this had to be from John. She lifted the flap and recognized the embossed edge of a wedding invitation. In what had to be a crime against wedding etiquette, he had written in the blank space near the top.
Come dance with me?
Dancing with John would be … would be like canceling out all the bad experiences she’d had with boys in high school. And they might have a chance to continue last night’s conversation. A shiver wiggled down her spine.
“Shall I extend your stay a night?”
At the reminder that the clerk was watching, her face flushed. How many times had Erin flipped the channel on TV to avoid sappy love stories? The poor clerk couldn’t do that.
For his sake, she focused on the practicalities.
The script of the invitation confirmed what she’d heard last night—the reception would take place in this hotel’s ballroom. Staying here would make sense, but even discounted with an event rate, a room in this fancy hotel couldn’t be cheap. They had to pay for upkeep of the marble lobby and gleaming woodwork somehow.
But … but Dad wouldn’t want her to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with a guy who made her feel the way John did. Dad would tell her to live a little, that she shouldn’t go to her grave having only ever danced with her father.
“Yes.” She pulled her money clip from her pocket to find her credit card.
The desk clerk was already tapping away on his keyboard. “We’re to use the card on file.”
John’s card.
It’d been one thing to allow him to pay for the room when she’d been stranded by his concern for her driving in winter weather. Now, she had a choice. A choice informed by her knowledge of John’s desire to not be used for his money.
She set her card on the counter with a snap. “I insist.”
“It’s already done.” The clerk smiled like a magician who’d made a rabbit disappear.
“Can’t you credit his card and charge mine?”
“No, I’m sorry.” His smug look persisted, apparently more loyal to a rock star than a disheveled woman carrying a wad of laundry.
