Page 84 of Love, Accidentally

‘Does it work on women?’

‘I have no idea, but it’s got to be worth a try.’

‘I think it would take something considerably stronger to stop her, don’t you? Chloroform, maybe?’

‘We don’t use that any more, but I like your thinking. Some sort of anaesthetic to knock her out until everyone else is safely tucked up in bed.’

‘I’m done,’ Lena announces with irritation, thankfully oblivious to our conversation. ‘I’ve explained to this man that I’m a front-line healthcare professional, I need comfort and he needs to work on his customer service, but he’s not listening and refuses to find me a superior room. Some cock and bull story about being fully booked, as if I’m expected to buy that.’

‘They are hosting a wedding, Lena,’ I tell her.

‘Yes, but all hotels hold back a certain number of rooms for privileged guests. It’s well known.’

‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ Will says. ‘It’s hard for hotels to make money even at full occupancy, so keeping rooms empty would be counter-intuitive.’

‘Hmph. Another reason to spend as little time in this godforsaken country as possible. I’m going to freshen up after that journey, so I’ll see you two at dinner.’

‘Sheneeds to freshen up?’ I ask incredulously as we approach the harassed-looking receptionist. ‘Iwas the one crammed into the back of the car with her sodding backpack digging into my hip the whole way here.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Will says. ‘I should have stood up to her more.’

‘It’s not your fault. She’s a force of nature. At least she’s not coming home with us.’

His face brightens. ‘Isn’t she?’

‘No, I heard her on the phone earlier. She’s got an early flight out on Sunday morning so she’s getting a taxi straight to the airport.’

‘Phew.’ He slides across the printout of our reservation to the receptionist, who starts tapping rapidly on the keyboard of his computer.

‘Welcome, Mr and Mrs Barwell,’ he says, handing over two key cards with a smile. ‘You’re in room 213, one of our suites. I hope you’ll find it comfortable. As requested, I’ve placed a bottle of champagne on ice for you. Please, leave your bags here and I’ll get the porter to bring them up straight away.’

‘A suite, Mr Barwell?’ I ask as we make our way towards the lift. ‘What happened to the standard room I thought we’d booked?’

‘I upgraded us, Mrs Barwell. Only the best for my wife.’

‘That was a bit presumptuous, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell him we weren’t married?’

He grins. ‘I liked the way it sounded.’

I laugh as the lift arrives and we step inside. Actually, I quite liked the way it sounded too, not that I’m going to tell him that. Not until he asks properly, anyway.

I wonder what the champagne is for?

* * *

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