“Sure thing.” My response gets swallowed up by the sound of the door clicking shut behind her.
While I wait for her, my eye catches on the gift bottle of whiskey. I find a glass and pour myself a finger’s worth. I toss the whole thing back before Jess emerges from the bathroom, hair smoothed and tucked back into place. I focus on the burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat rather than how stunning she looks barefaced, her hair swept away from her cheekbones.
“Ready?” she asks.
I nod, not wanting to open my mouth and blurt out something inappropriate, like how when her red sweater slips off her shoulder, I want to lick her collarbone.
Because we are two colleagues, going out for a professional dinner.
I repeat it like a mantra in my mind, especially when the doors of the elevator close, and her winter jasmine perfume tickles my nose. It would be entirely unprofessional to hit the emergency stop button and press her up against the wall of the elevator.
Luckily, we’re joined by two other guests as we hit the next floor, two people I don’t recognize, thankfully.
We head directly for the restaurant, and the door opens right as we approach it. Two women emerge and their faces both light up when they spot me.
Scratch that. They’re not looking at me, they’re looking at Jess.
“Oh my god, Emily! Farah! It’s so good to see you!” Jess’s voice rises in pitch, as it always does when she’s really excited.
The three of them huddle together in a group hug while I stand awkwardly next to them, clearly not included.
When they break apart, the blond one looks between me and Jess. “Are you two going in to eat? Together?” She says this like I’m the Grinch and Jess is Santa, like the idea of the two of us enjoying a meal together is near impossible.
“We are.” Jess rolls her eyes as she leans in closer to them. “There was a whole mix-up with my room so I’m a little bit trapped.”
“Oh no!” the brunette exclaims. “We would totally offer you a spot in our room, but instead of giving us two queens, they gave us one king, so we’re already crowded.”
Jess shrugs, and it’s not lost on me that she doesn’tbother to introduce me or attempt to include me in this conversation in any way. “Hopefully I’ll be on my way home soon. Fingers crossed this weather clears!” She pulls the two of them in for another hug.
“Are you okay?” I hear one of them whisper to her. “We can squish you in with us if you need us to. I can’t imagine.” She shoots me a glare over Jess’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Jess whispers back. I note she doesn’t bother to defend my character. “Maybe we can all do a writing session tomorrow if we’re still trapped.”
Emily and Farah—I still don’t know which is which—agree cheerfully before wishing Jess a good night, ignoring me, and striding toward the lobby.
Neither of us says anything as we put our name in with the hostess.
We wait in silence for a few minutes for a table at the cabin-themed restaurant. The place is full of wood beams and plaid and even some antique-looking wooden skis mounted on the walls. A giant Christmas tree stands in the center of the dining area, and holiday music pipes through the speakers. The fire is roaring in the huge stone fireplace, and the air smells like cinnamon and nutmeg.
It’s awful.
One look at Jess and it’s clear how much she loves it here. This place is exactly her kind of holiday vibe.
“So how long have you known Emily and Farah?” I finally ask, when the silence becomes too much.
She shoots me an odd look. “They debuted with us. I met them in the romance debut support group. We’ve been friends ever since.”
Right. I was initially a part of that same group, but Istopped participating once it became clear to me that I could no longer write traditional romance. But even still, I should probably have a general idea of who the other authors published by SVP are, especially the ones who debuted the same year I did.
“I don’t ever see you in any of the SVP or romance groups…”
I purse my lips. “I’ve never really felt welcome.”
“Maybe because it seems like you think you’re too good for us.” Jess drops the bomb right as the hostess calls our name.
If anything, I think it’s the opposite. Emily and Farah and so many other romance authors have made it obvious that I’m not welcome in their circle, thatI’mnot good enough forthem. The truly frustrating part is they’re right. I know that I’ve brought their disdain upon myself.
Doesn’t make it feel any better though.
