Page 12 of Wait For Me

“Classic.” I don’t report directly to George, but my boss does. “Louise—my boss—says he forgets everything they talk about in meetings. Important things like notes about hiring, or complaints from guests that need to be sorted out. She says if she weren’t about to retire, she’d have quit the minute things transferred to George. Louise says he somehow hid his shadiest side from Shannon when she was still alive, but got this God complex the minute he took over.”

Tristan’s studying me with his lips quirked. He shoves his hands in his back pockets, and I can’t help notice the way the button-down he’s wearing strains over his shoulders. I remember seeing those last night, uncovered. How he had thistattoo on his right one I couldn’t quite read. “Then maybe you have some ideas for the best way to get access to the east wing? Seeing as you have the inside scoop.”

“You want me to help you sneak into the shut-down side of the hotel? The one that has all the doors sealed and hazard warnings posted by the exits?”

“I just want to know if there’s an entry that might be more discreet than the doors down in the lobby; or the outside stoop. Where I’ve already been booted out of.”

“I know where the keys are. I also know George cut off the security cameras on that side of the building after he had the alarm installed, because he says we don’t have to pay for both.”

“Alarm?”

“The one that’s not actually attached to a security system. It chirps but doesn’t alert anyone. Oh, and security doesn’t patrol the east wing when the shifts change.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Louise oversees security too, since the head of that department quit after George took over. She’s ‘up to here with George.’ Her words. And I’m a good listener, so I know more about George and the running of this hotel than I ever thought I would.”

He smiles again, but this time, there’s something like admiration in it. My insides do a little flutter, erasing the last shadow of doubt that this was a stupid thing to suggest.

“But I can’t, tonight,” I say.

Tristan’s smile drops. “Oh, okay.”

“My mother will kill me if I miss another dinner at home.” Especially since it was the one I was going to bring Glen to. The one he probably dumped me over, I realize now. Yet today it doesn’t sting quite in the same way as it did yesterday.

Tristan fully grins this time, and it makes my stomach flutter.

“How about tomorrow? Is seven too late?For the light?”

“Seven’s perfect this time of year.”

“Meet you at the east door at seven then.” Then I abruptly walk past him. “Bye Tristan,” I say, fast enough that neither of us can think better of this.

Because my new plan is even better than the first. I don’t need a kiss to prove to myself I can be with someone casually.

I need to be casual with the boy who ruined all men for me.

If I can survive being with Tristan Galloway and then letting him go again, I can survive anything.

CHAPTER 6

Tristan

The next evening, Cora’s waiting for me on the far edge of the parking lot like we planned.

My whole body feels tight, like wire wound up in a ball.

I meant to arrive earlier, but I got caught up with some work emails. Including one from a colleague who says there’s probably going to be a quick job offer coming my way from a newspaper in London, one highly coveted by freelancers, and who only just started calling me about jobs directly. It’s a stateside assignment, just a few days, and technically, I could take it before I head out to my long assignment in Borneo, Indonesia, tracking rallies leading up to a heated local election next year.

But that would mean leaving earlier than I planned. Normally, I’d turn it down. People drop everything to work for them, myself included. Their photographers win Pulitzers. Except I already turned them down to do this assignment. If I say no again, they might not call again. I hinted to my friend that I probably wouldn’t be able to take the job. Hopefully he passes it on before they offer it to me.

Seeing Cora now, I know I made the rightdecision. I go slow, so I get to soak her in before she sees me. If it weren’t creepy, I’d stop to stare, to try to memorize every detail.

Her hair is up in a high ponytail that swings as she turns her head, peering around the corner of the building. So does the skirt of her yellow sundress. And those shoes—I can’t remember what they’re called but the soles look like rope, and the straps go up her calves like a ballerina slipper, and she looks so fucking pretty my chest hurts.

“Hey,” she says when she sees me. Her smile is wide and beautiful, and makes me think of her back when she was just Sam’s kid sister. She’s so different from the girl I knew all those years ago. But there are glimpses of her that haven’t changed, too. Her easy smile. The way she uses the word love all the time, like it’s not a thing that’s supposed to hurt. Like it’s a perfectly normal okay thing to want and have.

“Hey Cora.”

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