Page 8 of Host for the Holidays
Add onto that the failed payment, the fact that her boyfriend is not responding to her calls or texts, our encounter in the bathroom, and her thinking my room was hers . . . I feel for her. I already have a soft spot for Americans, a result of my dad being an American and my mom’s prejudice against them (yes, they’re divorced, and yes, the two things are related).
Besides, she’s not whining about it; she sounds like she’s trying to make the best of things, but I can hear her sniffling.
“Siena?” she says. “Siena? Are you there?”
There’s silence. And then a little sob.
I hesitate, my heart twinging.
This girl needs a win today, and I am the only person who can give that to her.
I lay down my red pen and head for my room, trying an ineffective combination of shuffling my feet and stomping so that Madi knows I’m coming. I knock on the door, and there’s some scrambling within before her footsteps approach and the door opens.
It’s obvious she tried to do a bit of damage control before answering my knock, but there’s just no way she can hide the pink cheeks, the lashes clumped together, or the tear drops on her shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, and the genuineness in her voice softens me even more toward her. “I’m still trying to get a hold of Josh. He’s in a meeting, and—”
“The payment went through,” I say. “You’re all set.”
Her eyes widen. “It did?”
I nod, hoping she’s not a human lie detector. I’m pretty sure she’s not. She seems more of the gullible type.
She puts a hand on her chest and breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Thank heaven.” Her eyes flit back to mine. “Was itmycard?”
There’s no mistaking the anxiety in her expression. I get the sense she’s stressed about money. “The first one.”
Based on the way she sighs with relief, I made the right choice spending Josh’s money. Which, technically, I didn’t. It’smymoney I’ve just spent. I can’t ask André to eat the three hundred euros. He’s already worried about finances. I’ll have to go into the app and pay the balance with my own card so it accepts the booking. Otherwise, Madi won’t even be able to leave a review.
It’s kind of a headache, and it’s a chunk of money I wasn’t planning on spending. But hey, if it helps André and simultaneously lightens the load this girl is carrying, I’ll take the hit and hope for karma—preferably in the form of the job I’m hoping to get. André’s uncle is the headmaster at the elite high school with an open position, so the karma I’m hoping for is very specific.
“Thanks for being so patient,” the girl says, her voice full of relief and gratitude.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a more beautiful smile than the one she gives me now. Maybe it’s the way her eyes are glistening from the crying, or maybe it’s something else.
Doesn’t matter, really. But if I can keep a smile on that face, I can get André that coveted 5-star review.
I think of the ladder and the bed upstairs and grimace. That room might make my goal like swimming upstream.
FIVE
RÉMY
After seeingwhere Madi will be sleeping, I feel a bit selfish looking around the relative spaciousness of my room—and the way I can actually sit up in bed. I’m living like a king in here as I unpack my bags, with plenty of drawers and a closet.
I don’t really know how long I’ll be staying here. André’s family just found out a few days ago that his mom has cancer, and now they have to wait and see how she responds to treatments.
I get all my clothes hung up in the closet. It looks like a store display for blazers, dress shirts, and slacks. I set my toiletries in the bathroom, eying the shampoo bottle, which Madi kindly set back in the shower after trying to knock me out with it.
Once I’m settled, I sit back down on the couch in the living room, rub my eyes, and put on my glasses. I’ve got just a couple days before Christmas break begins, and I do not plan to spend any of my time off grading. It will be three glorious weeks of relaxation.
Madi is upstairs, and as I correct one of my students’ spelling of the wordlaugh, I realize that I will always know exactly where she is. It’s inevitable, given how the floor creaks with every single step. I’m just hoping she doesn’t plan on keeping me up with late night calls to her boyfriend, since I would be able to hear that pretty well, too.
I get up for a drink of water, taking stock of what André has available for us to use. After my mom’s kitchen, it looks like Old Mother Hubbard’s house. I grab a cup and fill it with water, taking a drink just as Madi’s footsteps sound on the staircase. I have a weird urge to run a hand through my hair. But I don’t, because I’m notthatguy—the one who tries to impress a girl with a boyfriend.
She appears in the space that opens up into the living and kitchen area, looking around. Her hair is dry now, but it doesn’t look like she’s styled it in any way or put on any makeup. Once she spots me, she comes over, looking really beautiful but a bit self-conscious. “Hey. We didn’t really start things off on a great foot earlier. I feel like I owe you an apology.”
I smile. “For throwing a full bottle of shampoo at my head?”
