Page 32 of Where There's A Will
Four hours I’d already been angry with Hugo, with another three and a half to go on the next leg of the journey. To prevent me from saying something that might get me into trouble, I shoved earphones in, listening to strong women tunes and songs where the singer was angry at her boyfriend. I couldn’t believe what Hugo had done.
My stomach grumbled from lack of decent food and I rummaged around in my bag to see if the bagel was salvageable. When all I saw were crumbs, tears sprang into my eyes.
I needed more bagels.
I needed Will.
How had I been stupid enough to believe Hugo was going to do the one amazing thing I wanted him to? When he’d cheated on me with the hostess, chatted to however many other women on the speed-dating night, ignored all my messages all week…
And I’d spent the week with Will. I should still be with him, not strapped into an airline seat, on a flight to some outdoorsy resort I knew I would hate the minute we set foot in it.
As soon as we landed, we waited for our luggage. Instead of waiting for Hugo to help, I heaved my suitcases off the baggage reclaim carousel myself, loading them onto the trolley with the smallest amount of difficulty. I was determined not to ask him for help. Not that he’d offer anyway.
“We’ll need to rent a car,” Hugo said. “Our hotel is a little way away.”
“Of course.” I sighed as we headed toward the car rental desks. We’d already been travelling close to seven and a half hours and I needed to get to the hotel and take a proper nap.
“You got this, right, babe?” Hugo didn’t look up from his phone as he spoke.
“Excuse me?”
He glanced at me, affronted. “I paid for the rest of the trip.”
Of course he did. A trip he didn’t consult me about.I’m pretty sure he wasn’t going to let me forget that the whole time we were here.
Out of spite, I picked a cute, bright red, Mini Cooper convertible at the Alamo desk, thinking if I was paying—and if I wanted to leave, the car was in my name—I wanted something I would enjoy driving too.
I dangled the keys at Hugo. “I take it you’ll want to drive?”
He rolled his eyes. “Will all your luggage fit in?”
That was one thing I hadn’t thought of. We struggled to get my suitcases and his bags in, but with a bit of wrangling, we managed it. Even if I did have to have a couple of things in the footwell and on my lap.
We drove to the hotel. Or at least Hugo drove as I tried to navigate. It didn’t help that I obviously had no idea where I was going and I was useless at reading maps. If Hugo and I weren’t in a good place when we left Kalispell Airport, we certainly weren’t in a good place when we finally arrived at the hotel over an hour and a half later.
Lake McDonald Lodge was a classic Swiss-style chalet lodge. The reception area was clad in wood, with high ceilings and moose heads stuck on the walls. I glanced at them with trepidation. Why did Hugo think I’d like somewhere like this?
“Hello, are you guys checking in?” The receptionist was unbearably perky.
“We are.” Hugo leaned on the desk, giving her the eye.
Seriously. I am right here.
He gave her the reservation details and within a few minutes, she had our keys.
“Enjoy your stay!” she called as we walked away.
I highly doubted I would.
Our room was…nice. It had a queen-sized bed, rustic furnishings and a small, en suite. It was functional. It wasn’t gorgeous. Or London. And I’d bet anything it was the cheapest room available.
While Hugo used the bathroom, I sank down on the bed, feeling the tears well up again.
I was trapped.
There were three options available to us for dinner: Jammer Joe’s Grill & Pizzeria, Lucke’s Lounge and Russell’s Fireside Dining Room.
I envisaged a romantic dinner for two at the latter, having already checked out the menu on my phone while Hugo showered. Crab, beef tenderloin, rack of lamb…my mouth watered at the options. Plus their choice of drinks and cocktails was extensive.
