and then Don led us to the big, black GMC Yukon we’d be traveling in for the next five days. We were quiet in the backseat, the pleasantries from the plane long forgotten as the nice Cole burrowed back into his hole and the mean one emerged again. He studied his phone as usual, and I sat and stared out the window at New York City. I didn’t want to miss a second of scenery as it passed by my window.
I probably should’ve texted my husband to let him know I’d arrived safely, but the childish part of me wanted him to worry about me. It would be nice to know he still felt something for me—even if it was concern for my well-being.
So I waited it out, hoping he’d text me first as I stared out at the magic that made up New York. Traffic was horrid, drivers were crazy, and pedestrians took unnecessary risks in their rush to get wherever they were going, but I was in love with this city.
“I’m meeting with a client tonight, and tomorrow we’ll attend the conference during the day and dinner at night. There’s a mixer, but we should skip it to finalize Friday’s presentation. The conference ends early Sunday, and I’ve blocked out some time Sunday night to meet up with friends. You’re free to do what you want Sunday night and Monday morning, and then we head home. Any questions?”
I shook my head. At least I’d have some free time while I was there, provided Cole didn’t change plans last minute and schedule additional business meetings.
We pulled in front of the hotel, and Don got out to open Cole’s door first and then mine. “Mr. Henderson, we’ll need you back for an eight o’clock dinner at Brighton. We’ll be down at half past seven.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cole nodded once, and then Don took our bags out of the back of the Yukon. He handed them to the bellhop, and Cole and I headed inside to check in.
I’d booked our rooms at the hotel where the conference was being held. We walked to the check-in counter, a long slab of white quartz that sparkled in the light. Crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting a glow over the lobby. The place was chic, modern, and expensive—perfect for someone like Cole, but a bit upscale for someone like me.
Thank goodness he was footing the bill, because I’d never have been able to afford a place like this.
“Reservation for Benson,” Cole said, handing over his license and credit card.
“Yes, sir,” the woman behind the counter said as her eyes lingered on Cole a bit longer than necessary. I glanced at her nametag: Gretchen.
“I have a suite with a view of Times Square and a king bed.”
“The reservation should be for two rooms,” Cole said.
“I’m only showing one.”
Cole shot me a look. “Did you book two rooms?”
“Yes, I booked two.” I pulled up the reservation in the reminder email I’d received just two days earlier. I swore I’d booked two rooms, but I felt suddenly nervous as heat crawled up my spine.
1 King Suite – nonsmoking – Times Square view
How the hell had this happened? One king suite? I definitely booked two rooms. I knew I had, but it was right there in black and white.
I pulled up the email confirmation I received right after I’d booked the room almost two weeks earlier. That one said two rooms, but the more recent one showed just one suite.
What the hell?
“Sorry, it appears my assistant made a mistake. Put a second room on the card,” Cole said.
“I can check, but we might be full,” Gretchen said, tapping on her keyboard. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. “I’m so sorry,” she said after a few moments. “We are completely booked.”
“Shit,” Cole muttered under his breath.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It was my mistake. I’ll just find another hotel nearby.”
“I’ll make some calls for you,” Gretchen said.
“Go ahead,” Cole said.
We waited in silence while Gretchen worked.
After his compliments earlier that day regarding my attention to detail, I
I probably should’ve texted my husband to let him know I’d arrived safely, but the childish part of me wanted him to worry about me. It would be nice to know he still felt something for me—even if it was concern for my well-being.
So I waited it out, hoping he’d text me first as I stared out at the magic that made up New York. Traffic was horrid, drivers were crazy, and pedestrians took unnecessary risks in their rush to get wherever they were going, but I was in love with this city.
“I’m meeting with a client tonight, and tomorrow we’ll attend the conference during the day and dinner at night. There’s a mixer, but we should skip it to finalize Friday’s presentation. The conference ends early Sunday, and I’ve blocked out some time Sunday night to meet up with friends. You’re free to do what you want Sunday night and Monday morning, and then we head home. Any questions?”
I shook my head. At least I’d have some free time while I was there, provided Cole didn’t change plans last minute and schedule additional business meetings.
We pulled in front of the hotel, and Don got out to open Cole’s door first and then mine. “Mr. Henderson, we’ll need you back for an eight o’clock dinner at Brighton. We’ll be down at half past seven.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cole nodded once, and then Don took our bags out of the back of the Yukon. He handed them to the bellhop, and Cole and I headed inside to check in.
I’d booked our rooms at the hotel where the conference was being held. We walked to the check-in counter, a long slab of white quartz that sparkled in the light. Crystal chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, casting a glow over the lobby. The place was chic, modern, and expensive—perfect for someone like Cole, but a bit upscale for someone like me.
Thank goodness he was footing the bill, because I’d never have been able to afford a place like this.
“Reservation for Benson,” Cole said, handing over his license and credit card.
“Yes, sir,” the woman behind the counter said as her eyes lingered on Cole a bit longer than necessary. I glanced at her nametag: Gretchen.
“I have a suite with a view of Times Square and a king bed.”
“The reservation should be for two rooms,” Cole said.
“I’m only showing one.”
Cole shot me a look. “Did you book two rooms?”
“Yes, I booked two.” I pulled up the reservation in the reminder email I’d received just two days earlier. I swore I’d booked two rooms, but I felt suddenly nervous as heat crawled up my spine.
1 King Suite – nonsmoking – Times Square view
How the hell had this happened? One king suite? I definitely booked two rooms. I knew I had, but it was right there in black and white.
I pulled up the email confirmation I received right after I’d booked the room almost two weeks earlier. That one said two rooms, but the more recent one showed just one suite.
What the hell?
“Sorry, it appears my assistant made a mistake. Put a second room on the card,” Cole said.
“I can check, but we might be full,” Gretchen said, tapping on her keyboard. Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. “I’m so sorry,” she said after a few moments. “We are completely booked.”
“Shit,” Cole muttered under his breath.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It was my mistake. I’ll just find another hotel nearby.”
“I’ll make some calls for you,” Gretchen said.
“Go ahead,” Cole said.
We waited in silence while Gretchen worked.
After his compliments earlier that day regarding my attention to detail, I
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