Page 68 of Make My Heart Malt

Once Tony leaves, I text Georgia to confirm the trip. She said this is an amazing opportunity for me and she wishes she could join us. Now that I have her blessing, Ifeel so much better about going and meeting Isabella Rossi!

After clearing my vacation with Jake and only needing to switch one shift with Rylee, I secured three days off. He booked all our travel, including the plane tickets and hotel rooms. I made it clear to get separate rooms and that I would pay for mine, but he said the rooms would be comped since Georgia’s family owns the hotel chain. When I looked up the price, I nearly fell on the floor. Six hundred dollars a night for two nights was a little out of my price range. I’d be living off ramen noodles for the foreseeable future to afford that bill.

From my closet, I stare at my empty suitcase lying open on my bed. Unable to decide what to wear, I throw ten different outfits, along with five different pairs of shoes, into my suitcase. I sit on top, bouncing up and down, willing it to close. Once the zipper's in place, my phone chimes with a message that Tony’s in my driveway.

I drag my suitcase down the stairs, huffing and puffing with each step. Once I’m out the front door, Tony’s waiting inside his truck.

When he sees me, he steps out. “We’re only going to be gone for three days. Did you need to bring your entire closet?” He stalks toward me and grabs my suitcase.

“I also have a carry-on. I was undecided on which outfits I want to wear. If I want to go comfy and casual or sleek and stylish. This gives me options.” A gust of wind blows the loose snow through the air, icing my warm cheeks.

“You were always so indecisive.” When wereach the side of his truck, he hoists my suitcase into the bed along with my carry-on bag.

I pat my jean pockets, coat pockets, then check inside my purse for my phone. “Shit, I forgot my phone. I’ll be right back.” After I find my phone on the kitchen counter, I race outside, hop into the passenger seat, and we take off to the airport.

When the car stops in front of the hotel, I peer out the window and look up and up and up. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never stayed at a hotel with so many floors.” I tear my gaze from the window to turn toward Tony, who’s watching me.

“I’m just taking all your firsts.”

A ghost of a smile tips the corner of my lips. Years ago, Tony was the first guy I slept with, but for him to make a comment now creates an unease in the pit of my stomach. I brush it off because I’m in Chicago to meet Isabella Rossi.

When we step out of the car, a bellhop immediately greets us to collect our luggage. A gust of wind blows through, and I tighten my coat around myself. With a hand on my lower back, Tony escorts me inside.

A dark, rich mahogany wood reception desk is a focal point against the light tile floor. At the counter, the front desk receptionist greets us with a warm smile. Her name tag readsKelly.

The clacking of the keyboard echoes through the lobby as Kelly types Tony’s name into the computer. “I have you in a king suite for three days and two nights.” Her voice is polite and professional.

I lean in. “Excuse me? One room? There should be two.”

She glances at the screen again to confirm the details. “I only have a reservation for one room.”

Tony interjects. “That can’t be right. I booked two.”

“I’m sorry sir, it’s just the one room.”

“Can you add another room?” I ask, crossing my fingers.

“I’m sorry ma’am, we’re fully booked.” She gives me a pitying glance.

I blow out a deep breath, trying to keep my irritation at bay.

Tony looks from me to the receptionist. “This is unacceptable.” His tone is sharp. “Do you know who my wife is?”

Her wide-eyed gaze drifts to me and then to Tony. “I’m sorry. No, I don’t.”

“Oh. It’s not me. I’m not his wife,” I quickly interject, waving my hands. Shit. That sounds bad. She probably thinks I’m the mistress. “We’re friends.” I blurt out. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m just on the trip to meet my girl crush. Isabella Rossi. Do you know her?”

Kelly nods.

I pinch my lips shut and drop a step back. She doesn’t need my life story.

Tony rests his hands on the counter and states very matter-of-factly, “My wife’s father own’s this hotel, and I’m going to make sure he hears about this.” He narrows his eyes at her.

Tears well up in her eyes as her chin wobbles.

“Tony,” I whisper. “That’s not necessary.”

“Yes. It is,” he snaps. “The service should be better than this.”

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