Page 27 of One Weekend in Quebec City

I pause, staring down at the words. I feel a tear slip down my cheek and quickly wipe it away. I want to write more, to pour out my feelings,my fears, myhopes. But I stop myself, knowing that it’s better this way.

I place the note on the pillow beside him.

With one last look at his sleeping form, I turn and quietly leave the suite, closing the door softly behind me. The hallway is quiet, the hotel still asleep as I make my way to the elevator. When the doors close behind me, I leanbackagainst the wall, my eyes closing as I fight to hold back the tears.

This weekend has been a whirlwind, a dream come true. What started out as a career opportunity turned into so much more. But now, it’s time to face reality. We lead very different lives in very different cities. Countries. I’m not even close to the kind of woman a man like Spencer Hollis needs in his life. No matter what he said, he’s a very rich man with responsibilities and obligations. I’m a small-town journalist trying to make a go of writing about celebrities. We don’t match on so many levels.

This weekend was a moment. A lovely moment but a pocket of time out of our lives—nothing more.

If I hurry, I can catch an earlier flight home and avoid the risk of running into Spencer at the airport.

When I reach my room, I toss my things into my bag and change into travel clothes. What a beautiful room. And I hardly spent any time enjoying it. I glance up to the ceiling, wishing I could run back to Spencer’s room and throw myself into his arms.

Shaking my head, I grab my things and leave the room. Thankfully, an Uber is only a couple of minutes away. When I reached the airport, I was so relievedto findI could change my flight that I almost cried. I don’t think I could have sat waiting, wondering if Spencer would find me here, wondering if he’d be angry with me for leaving like I did. Worried he wouldn’t give me a second glance when he saw me.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the journey home. No matter what happens next, I know that thisoneweekend in Quebec City with Spencer Hollis will be a memory I’ll cherish forever.

ChapterEleven

Shelby

Istare at my inbox like it might suddenly blink to life and give me what I’ve been waiting for—something, anything from Spencer.

It’s been two weeks since I slipped out of his bed in Quebec City and hurried back to my hotel room. Two weeks since I left him a note on the pillow, telling him I’d send him the article for review. There’d been so many things I wanted to say, but I chickened out in the end. Though I did sign it,Love Shelby, I hope he understands our few days together meant more to me than I might say in a quick goodbye note.

Worried that he might wake up and chase me down, I didn’t even take the time to shower. I tossed my things into my suitcase and escaped to the airportas quick as possible. Lucky for me, there was a seat on an earlier flight. I was in the air before heevenwoke and realized I’d skipped out on him.

I hope.

I did send him the article I wrote. Three days later. Professionally written, carefully edited, and with my heart hidden between the lines.

And I haven’t heard a single word from him since. I know he got it, I put a confirm receipt on the email.

Not a thank you. Not a red-ink edit. Not a rejection.

Just silence.

I must admit, I’m feeling a little wham-bam-thank you-ma’am. And it’s my own fault. I allowed myself to ignore all mynormalrules for first dates. I accepted a dinner date with little knowledge of the man other than watching him work and asking him a few questions. Hell, he asked me to join him for the weekend because he wanted to rectify his ladies-man reputation. Sure, we were both in the same place for work, and it made sense to have a meal together.

But he called it a date.

And I slept with him.

Not only that, but I also fell head over heels for a man I barely knew. I spent two unforgettable days and nights with him, knowing that henormallydated womenmoresophisticated,moreworld traveled, andfar more financially secure than me.

The man is far from my league; we’re in different sports. Yet I allowed myself to be drawn into a fling with a man whose whole purpose for our meeting was to spin an article in his favor. I did my best to crack the façade and paint a picture of a businessman focused on rebranding the family business and not sleeping with all the gorgeous models hefound himself surrounded by each month.

I cover my face with my hands. If it was such a mistake, why does it hurt so much?I’vespent fourteen days eating ice cream or peanut butter by the spoonful, straight from the container.I’vegoogled The Hollis Group and deep-dived into each aspect of the family business. I’ve searched for every image of him I could find, including the ones with pretty women on his arm, and scrutinized his facial expression and body language for any hints of his feelings toward the women.

It felt a little stalkerish.

I also experienced immense relief when every one of those photos showed a woman beaming up at him, but he looked bored.

I might not have heard from Spencer Hollis, but Marika’s been calling me relentlessly, and I’ve been avoiding her. She even tried to make it look like Shaun called to check on me. I’m smarter than that. She just used his phone.

My smart-as-a-whip sister-in-lawhas no clue aboutwhat happened during my long weekend in Quebec, but I’m betting her sixth sense is going haywire.

When I finally gathered the courage, I dug up his work email from the company website and sent two emails to Spencer. Both were friendly, pretending as though nothing happened. That I didn’t skip out and that I didn’t fall in love.

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