Page 120 of Betting on the Best Friend
What if Ruby loves me, and all I have to do is accept it for this to be as simple as I thought it would be after she dumped Niles?
“Excuse me, sir?”
I open my eyes and realize I’ve dozed at some point. A guy in a hotel uniform who looks at least ten years younger than me is standing in front of me with an apologetic look.
“Hey, man.” I glance around. The entire area is empty except for us, but I hear the sound of a vacuum running not too far away. “Guess I fell asleep.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but sleeping isn’t permitted in the lobby, even for guests. Are you a registered guest? Can I issue you a replacement key?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m a guest, but I have my key.”
“That’s good, sir. You’ll probably be more comfortable sleeping it off in your room.”
Ah. “I haven’t been drinking.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir. Usually when we find people sleeping down here . . .”
I wave away the apology. “Sober as a judge.”
“Okay. Um, can I help you with anything else then?”
He would really like me to not be his problem. “The pool has lounge chairs, right? And complimentary towels, right? Three should do it. Pillow, sheet, blanket.”
“Yes, but, um, it doesn’t open until 8:00 AM.”
I smile. “Relax. I’m not going to sleep by the pool.”
Relief crosses his face. “It’s supposed to rain soon anyway.”
“Thank you, hotel guy. Five stars for a courtesy waking of the vagrant in the lobby.”
He misses my humor, and his face starts to get stressed, but I shake my head. “No worries, man.”
He nods and hurries in the direction of the main desk.
My phone says it’s close to 5:30. More than anything, I want to go to the room and tell Ruby that I’m sorry and I’ve figured it out. But I don’t want to wake her. Not again, anyway.
I self-parked my car. I can put my seats down and give us both a couple of hours of sleep before I go back upstairs to offer her what she wants most in the world: fresh coffee.
It’s a good plan with one major flaw.
I don’t wake up in time.
I don’t wake up until my car shakes, and I bolt upright to hear the tail end of a thunderclap. I peer through my windshield, dry inside the parking garage, to see a hard rain falling outside.
I grab my phone. Dead. The gray sky makes it hard to guess the time, so I raise my seat and start the car, groaning when the dash display informs me it’s almost 9:00 AM. I plug in my phone and wait for it to charge enough to use. It takes less than two minutes to turn on, but I drum my thumbs on the steering wheel the entire time.
It immediately buzzes with several text alerts, and I grab it, almost yanking it off the charging cord. They’re all Ruby, starting shortly after 7:00 AM.
Where are you?
Come back
I’m worried . . .
Now I’m mad
Charlie?
