Page 90 of Making New Plans

Harold said a quick goodbye, which I didn’t acknowledge. Then I noticed Sal hovering.

I snapped out of my daze. “Oh! You probably want to say goodbye. I’ll get out of your way. Let me grab my planner quick.” I gathered it up, almost tripping over my chair’s leg due to the painful tension that gripped my body.

Hunter watched me, his dark eyebrows drawn down in a fierce line. He opened his mouth, probably to say something, but I hurried away before he could.

Giving up all pretense of dignity, I ran up the stairs and down the hall. I skidded to a halt in front of his room and let myself in. I shut the door behind me and sagged against it. Then I looked around.

Everything was gone. Well, apart from what the room came with. But every trace of Hunter had disappeared. His luggage. His pillowcase. My ideas and his drawings. Maybe he’d left them somewhere for me. Or I’d never get them back. Suddenly, the rope tethering my composure snapped.

A screechy growl burst out of me, and I attacked the perfectly made bed. I snatched the pillows and stripped them of their cases. I ripped the blankets off. Then the sheets. A wave of Hunter’s rich, spicy chocolate scent washed over me.

Feeling a terrifying surge of tears, I tried to focus on my anger and flung the blankets across the room.

Everything would need to be washed. If I could hose down this room to get rid of the last essence of him, I would. I marched into the bathroom. Stupid shower where he’d been standing naked. Where he’d washed my hair and my body. Stupid, stupid!

I unthreaded the curtain from its hooks, which was much more intricate work than just yanking it down. But I wasn’t insane, and I didn’t want to buy a new shower curtain.

Dragging it out behind me, I tossed it onto the pile of bedding. I eyed the window curtains, huffing and puffing, but decided that would be going too far. I glared around the room, trying to think of what else I could erase his presence from.

Maybe I could rearrange the entire room. Yes, that would help. I was in the middle of heaving a corner of the bed around when I felt a presence watching me.

I dropped the bed and whirled around to face Hunter in the doorway. “Are you spying on me?” I snapped.

His impassive expression flickered, and for a moment, I thought he’d crack and make a joke about us spying on each other. But he didn’t.

“No,” he said. “I came to say goodbye.”

I wouldn’t let his quiet, wistful voice get to me. I would not. “Well, goodbye. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. You’re the owner now, so you get a say in everything. Guess I’ll have to send you regular updates. Go over accounts with you. You’ll have to check up on me to make sure I’m not ripping you off or murdering guests. In which case, you could just fire me. How about that? You could fire me. Ha! How’s that for a wakeup call? Better watch my step, or I could be out on my ass in two second flat.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis. “But don’t worry. I’ll be here. You’ll be there. I’ll take care of everything like I always do. And everything will be fine. Everything…will be…”

I bent over trying to catch my breath. He took a step toward me, concern filtering through his somber expression. But I held a finger up, to hold him back.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I belted out a maniacal laugh. “No. No, I’m not. But I will be. Wow, I usually don’t make it to the end of a rant.”

His lips curved upward the tiniest bit. “I wondered what would happen. Now, I know that you simply run out of air and words.”

For a brief, crazy moment, I smiled back at him, but then my smile dropped like a dead fly.

“What do you want?” I asked, my mouth dry. Note to self: Ranting required water.

“I told you. To say goodbye.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, barely refraining from pointing out that I’d already said goodbye once. “Goodbye, Hunter.”

He winced, but I couldn’t find it within my battered heart to feel sorry. He took another step toward me, his soft caramel eyes begging to thaw the scowl on my face. “If only I’d gotten around to making that button we’d talked about. Then we could press pause for a second.”

I shook my head. “No. I can’t. It’s easier for me this way.”

His jaw tightened. “Fine. Then goodbye, Chloe. I—” He broke off, his throat convulsing hard.

My heart desperately wanted to know what words he was trying to say, but my mind kept a tight leash on my reactions.

“Thank you for everything,” he finished. “I won’t forget it. Any of it.”

I nodded curtly. Damn, where had this steel backbone come from and why couldn’t it have been present with my mother?

“Goodbye, Chloe,” he said again.

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