Page 88 of Story of My Life
“I’m sorry I missed it. Had some late check-ins. But Billie texted me updates,” she said, hooking her thumb at her front desk partner.
They were wearing matching silver bands on their ring fingers.
“Right. You were eating Skittles in the back,” I said to Billie.
Edgy gasped theatrically. “You told me we were out of Skittles!”
Billie winced. “Well, we arenow.”
Edgy shook her head. “It’s like I don’t even know you.” She turned back to me. “I’m Hana, by the way. This is Billie. Zoey’s in 204. Elevators are just down that hall. I’d show you, but I need to stay here and guilt-trip my wife about her snack shenanigans.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Here. Take these,” Hana said, sliding two tasting plates with omelet on them toward me. “Breakfast of kimchi-ians.”
Billie shook her head. “I thought we talked about the dad jokes, Han.”
“And I thought we were out of Skittles. I guess we’re even.”
I usedmy foot to knock on Zoey’s door. “Room service,” I trilled.
The door swung open to reveal my friend with her curls tamed into a sleek twist, a full face of makeup, a cute sleeveless top, and Spiderman pajama bottoms.
“Zoom call?” I asked, marching past her.
“In twenty. Why aren’t you writing? And what’s with the plates?”
“Kimchi omelets courtesy of Billie and Hana downstairs.”
“Gimme. Why aren’t you writing?” she demanded as I handed over one of the plates.
Her suite was what we New Yorkers would call rustic luxury, with quiet brown walls, leather furniture, and uninterrupted lake views. It was also bigger than her apartment.
“Nice digs,” I said. I took a seat at a small black onyx table by the balcony door.
“Hazel Misdirection Hart. Why is your drenched self in my hotel room instead of speed-writing the next great American romance novel?” Zoey asked as she took the chair across from me.
“Ugh. Because my house is full of hot, loud men, and I couldn’t hear myself think let alone figure out what happens after my heroine wrangles her contractor into a first date. Do you know how long it’s been since I went on a first date? I need your expertise.”
For instance, what was I supposed to wear on a date with Cam? Although I couldn’t tell her I had a date with Cam because he’d asked me not to tell anyone. And I couldn’t very well lie and say I was going out with a stranger because Zoey would demand an extensive background check on my pretend man and then try to follow me on said fake date.
“Much as I would love to be your resource, I have a Zoom in twenty minutes with an old friend at that online magazineThriveand then calls with every female entertainment editor from the closest media outlets to remind people that you’re still relevant.”
I forked up a bite of breakfast. “That’s nice, but am I? Still relevant, I mean.”
“You will be if it kills me,” she said with determination. “I’m striking while your social media rebirth is hot. That newsletter you sent has the first decent open rate in forever, and I’m seeing screenshots of it on socials. I’m pitching the idea that at some point in her life, every woman fantasizes about running away and starting over to find her HEA, and here’s this adorable, kooky romance novelist who’s actually doing it.”
“Only problem is, I’m not looking for a happily ever after. I’m looking for inspiration and finding it in this omelet.”
Zoey grinned. “We’ll see.”
21
MY DINGHY’S BIGGER THAN YOURS
HAZEL
Me:What am I supposed to wear for that secret thing tomorrow?
