Page 49 of Hendrix

I nudged her playfully. “Will you wait while I shower quickly?”

She toed off her shoes and laid back on my bed, pulling out her phone. “Gives me a chance to catch up on my socials.” She waved toward the bathroom. “Go on. Get.”

I stood and moved toward the door, pausing to crane my neck toward her. “Thanks, Freya.”

Her eyes met mine, and she smiled huge. “That’s what friends are for. Now, hurry, we’ve got a baby to see.”

My heart leaped because she was right.

Wedidhave a baby to see, and it was my boy I had to focus on now.

———

The Lincoln was a beautiful hotel. I was too exhausted the night before to see it properly, so when Freya guided me into the hallway and I got my first glance at the place, my jaw dropped.

Immediately, I was struck by its grand opulence. The walls were a mixture of earthy green hues, rich reds, and cream. Some were even covered in the most beautiful velvet-textured paper, probably worth a fortune. The carpet was so plush my feet sank into it, and the sweeping curtains seemed to be a mixture of cream silks and heavily patterned damask.

I’d been to England a few years before and visited several castles and grand houses, and the interior reminded me so much of them that I wondered if I’d been transported to another time. Every piece of furniture, every vase, every painting took me back to the turn of the last century, and I knew I’d need a whole day to walk around and to fully take it all in.

Freya led me into an old-fashioned caged elevator, pulled the doors closed behind us, and pressed the button for the ground floor. With a soft clunk, it began to descend, and I almost clapped my hands in delight at its old-world charm. The strains of music wafted up to greet us, and the lower the elevator descended, the louder it got.

It was no wonder Hendrix left. Who’d ever want to pass this place up? The Lincoln was a one-of-a-kind gem and in a sought-after area, too. Wyoming had its own charms, and I loved it there, but this place was something else.

In no time, the elevator hit the ground floor. Freya pulled the intricate cage doors open and held her elbow out for me. “Come on. You may as well get thrown into the deep end. Brace, babe.”

I linked my arm with Freya’s, and she guided me past a glossy, mahogany reception desk. I smiled at the old-fashioned tall rotary phone on it and the porter bell that I could almost envisage being tapped to ring for service.

Reaching out, I touched the banister of the dark, wooden sweeping staircase leading to the upper floors. It must have been ten feet wide, and the center of the stairs was covered by an olive-patterned carpet, giving it an expensive feel.

We approached open double doors leading to a room where I could hear music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

“You ready?” Freya murmured.

“Do I look okay?” I asked, worrying my lip with my teeth.

“You look gorgeous as usual,” she assured me, her gaze sweeping down my black tank top and tight jeans.

I felt better after a hot shower. Freya had brought me a hairdryer along with the clothes, so I blew out my long hair until it was out to there and even applied some makeup. My baby bump looked neat and tidy in my maternity jeans, and my boobs had grown a cup size and looked pretty magnificent if I said so myself.

We headed through the open double doors where the opening bars of “Houdini” by Eminem thumped through the room, and my eyes scanned from left to right, taking everything in.

If Freya hadn’t been pulling me through the vast space, I probably would’ve stopped in my tracks.

The first thing I noticed was two girls in various states of undress making out with each other on a pool table in a corner. A group of guys stood around them, watching everything and talking among themselves.

“Ignore them,” Freya told me breezily. “Rory and Tia like putting on a show.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, quickly averting my eyes, suddenly feeling like a voyeur. That was when I saw Iceman standing at the bar with a blonde under his arm, talking to Hendrix, who had a redhead under his.

My sharp intake of breath was audible. I felt a sinking sensation grip my insides, and a sick feeling settled in my belly.

She was pretty in an overtly sexy way. Big hair, red lips, wide smile. Cut-off shorts, a halter top, and cowboy boots. She looked like a bartender fromCoyote Ugly, and it registered that apart from the red hair, he’d gone for somebody who looked the complete opposite of me.

“Shit,” Freya murmured.

“It’s okay,” I said huskily. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Colt told me Drix was going to cut her off,” she said as if to herself.

---