Nick clears his throat, and I turn away from the very expensive gift. In the meantime, I couldn’t even get a room, let alone a bottle of booze.
“That was the front desk.” Nick tugs on the longish hair at the nape of his neck, the move putting on full display the cut of his muscles. “It’s still not safe to leave the hotel, but they’re opening up the restaurant for meals, and we’re welcome to use any of the facilities while we’re here.”
I nod, attempting a smile, though my lips seem to be frozen in place. “I think I’ll get dressed and go downstairs then. I could use some coffee before I try to get some words in.”
Thank god I brought my laptop, even though my original plan was only to be here for the one night. The one upside of being trapped here might be that it forces me to focus on my work in progress.
I also only brought one change of clothes, so I head into the bathroom and slip into my jeans and the chunky red sweater that gives holiday vibes without being overly Christmasy. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I gather my laptop and the notebook I’ve been using to jot down ideas and possible plotlines for this manuscript.
When I come out of the bathroom, Nick is sitting in the armchair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging down. Something about his posture screams defeated, and upset, but I don’t give myself the space to care. Grabbing one of the keys from the dresser, I mumble a goodbye and head for the elevator.
I didn’t get to explore much of the inn the day before, since I had to go straight to the party. But it’s easy to find the tiny coffee counter, as it’s got a long line of people streaming from it. I keep my head down in case there are any other SVP authors or employees waiting for their daily dose of caffeine. There have to be quite a few of us stuck here, though I’m sure some ducked out of the party early to escape the impending storm.
Despite the long line, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before my hand is wrapped around a steaming mug filled with chocolate-peppermint-flavored caffeine.Nick drinks his coffee black, I remember, and just the thought makes my nose wrinkle.
But I’m not sure why Nick’s disgusting coffee preferences should weigh on my mind. This is my one chance to put him out of my head, before we go back to being trapped in a cute little room at a cozy inn together. Which, of course, happens to have only one bed. Really, if I were still stuck for inspiration, this whole situation has all the makings of a romance novel.
Since it’s us, it would be the Nick Matthews version of a romance novel: no happy ever after in sight.
I take my coffee and laptop over to one of the quiet corners of the lobby. There are tons of people milling around, everyone probably going a bit stir-crazy and looking for a little escape. But this section is separated from the main space, a tiny nook with a small café table and a perfect view of the Christmas tree that dominates the center of the room.
I use this small bit of privacy to check my phone for the first time today, knowing I’m going to need to find a way to spin this story to my friends so they don’t completely lose their shit. Alyssa has already texted to check in, and I know I can’t just leave her on read.
Alyssa:How did everything go last night?!?! I need all the details immediately! Can we FaceTime later tonight?
Kennedy:I’m around in the evening hours! Hope Nick wasn’t a complete and total douchebag.
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose, attempting to formulate a response. I decide to go with the basics—keepit simple and offer them nothing more than what they’re asking for.
Me:The awards ceremony went about as well as can be expected. I made it through my speech and managed to get some face time in with the director of publicity, so it might have made the whole thing worth it.
Alyssa:Amazing!!! That’s such a great connection to have!!!
Kennedy:And how was Nick? Did he make the whole thing super awkward?
Me:He was fine. We barely spoke to each other, which is probably for the best.
Of course, in between all the hardly speaking, there was a morning full of groping, but they don’t need to know that.
Alyssa:Are you back home already? Seems like the storm is still raging here!
Me:I’m actually still at the inn, waiting for the weather to clear. I’m going to get some words in while I wait out the storm and then hopefully I’ll head home later today.
I know I won’t be heading home, but they don’t need to know that—at least, not right this minute.
Alyssa:Yay! Let us know when you make it home so we know you’re safe!
Kennedy:And if you see Nick Matthews wandering the halls of the hotel today, tell him his books suck for me.
Me:Alyssa, I will do that. Kennedy, I’d like to not blow up any goodwill I gained last night so I will hold off on insulting my publisher’s bestselling author.
Me:Love you both!
While I have my phone out, I send a text to Morgan letting her know I’m stuck at the hotel and, absent some kind of weather miracle, might miss my afternoon shift at the coffee shop tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it home in time because lord knows I can’t afford to be missing shifts. Plus, as chill as Morgan is, leaving her hanging the week before Christmas is a bad look.
A shiver of fear runs through me as I think about what might happen if she had to fire me. I push that thought out of my mind. I need to manifest clear skies and getting the hell home, not just for my job’s sake, but for my mental health’s sake. I can’t endure forced proximity with my ex for much longer. I am not cut out to be a romance heroine.
After shutting off my phone to prevent further distractions, I hunker down, sipping on my coffee as I read through everything I’ve written in this story so far. I haven’t written in a few days—something I’d like to chalk up to the stress of the party and the weather, but really is more than likely due to a certain author who won’t be named—and it helps to refresh my memory. I also use this time to flesh out any parts of the story so far that are lacking or need development. This method means it sometimes takes me longer to write, but it results in a first draft that is (usually) not a total dumpster fire.
