Page 124 of Break Point
Lydia starts speaking Spanish with the receptionist.
“Hey.” I tug on Henry’s sleeve. He’s been so silent it’s starting to get on my nerves. I know he leans more toward the quiet, brooding side, but he’s just been off all day. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“Just tired,” he says with a small smile. “I didn’t snore all the way here.”
I gape at him.
“I do not snore, Henry Mitchell!” I whisper back playfully.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. You still managed to look cute.”
“Ha-ha.”
Henry is about to say something else, but I lift my hand to stop him. Lydia’s voice cuts through the lobby. She’s arguing with the receptionist, and it’s getting heated.
My eyes widen.
Oh. Shit.
There’s a problem with our rooms. Lydia keeps insisting there should be two reservations: One under my name and the other under my dad’s. Apparently, my dad’s reservation—AKA Henry’s room—is nowhere to be found.
Henry tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting. “What’s going?—”
I cut him off, pressing my finger to my lips and lifting my palm to keep listening.
A hotel manager shows up, and the room debacle escalates.
Lydia looks visibly flustered. Her neck is red, and the color quickly spreads to her face. I can practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. But she takes a deep breath and keeps arguing with the hotel manager, who insists they have no more rooms available and that they’re fully booked because of a medical convention happening at the hotel.
Henry is roomless.
Lydia is making calls. Other tournament hosts have stepped in.
“Tell me what’s going on, Bells,” Henry whispers in his commanding coach voice. He looks worried and exhausted. Mostly exhausted.
“There’s a problem with our rooms,” I whisper back. “They’re trying to sort it out.”
“What’s the issue?”
“Okay,” Lydia says, turning around to face us. She shakes her head, cups her rattled face with her hands, and smiles like she’s about to lose it.
“First of all, I apologize for the inconvenience, but apparently, your dad’s room was canceled when he told us he wouldn’t be coming. We didn’t know he would be sharing a room with Mr. Mitchell, and no one stopped to double-check if a room was booked for him or not. So his room got canceled, thinking it was just your dad’s.”
Perfect …
It’s not uncommon for my dad and Henry to share a room at smaller tournaments since he became my coach and started traveling with us. They’ve known each other forever. Henry is like a son to him. My dad is all about economizing and being careful with money, even if it’s not his.
“Unfortunately, the hotel is fully booked,” Lydia says, her voice shaky. She looks mortified to the point that she could cry. “But we’re looking for availability at nearby hotels, so please don’t worry. We’ll get you sorted out in a minute.”
“No worries,” I say, trying to convey my sympathy. I feel bad for Lydia. It’s clearly not her fault, and she’s the one having to face us with the bad news.
“I’m sure we’ll find a solution.”
“Could you give us one moment?” Henry says, calm and collected.
“Sure, sure, sure,” Lydia replies. Her phone starts ringing, so she walks away to take the call, giving us privacy.
“I’m not going to stay at a different hotel,” Henry says, resolute.
