This has been my cleaning area since I joined the crew. Jules’s old partner graduated last spring, and thankfully, she and I were paired together because she’s the best friend I’ve ever had.
We might not have known each other long, and she still might not know that I’m technically a secret soon-to-be Kensington when my stepmother marries Mr. Everett, but in all the ways that matter, Jules is the only person here that I care about.
“You’re quieter today,” Jules whispers, pulling me from my thoughts.
I quickly put on a smile, not because I have to in front of her, but out of habit.
“Sorry, I think I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night,” I tell her truthfully.
“You mean, you were up way too late, working on that dress again?” She eyes me knowingly with a playful smirk on her lips.
My lips purse, and I fight the grin trying to form. “How dare you?”
“What?” she scoffs. “Call you out for the truth?”
“Yes, exactly.” I chuckle, reaching forward and grabbing the doorknob of Mr. Asher’s room, but it doesn’t open when I twist it, which means he’s still sleeping and we won’t be able to clean before our morning shift ends.
“Oh no, one less room to clean. What a shame.” Jules sighs happily. “Thank you, Mr. Asher.” She salutes.
A laugh—or more of a snort—escapes me. “You’re ridiculous. I doubt Mr.Deanis still sleeping in.”
She guides our cart deeper into the wing, rolling silently on the long, carpeted hallway. I trail my finger aimlessly along the wallpaper, studying the photos of the two boys as we pass by.
Images of them playing hockey or dressed to the nines for family functions and events decorate the wall like a time capsule of their exciting youth.
There are even so many moments you wouldn’t think of capturing—random candids and pictures shot mid-motion. Joy and love radiate from them.
A twinge of anger throbs guiltily inside of me. It must be nice to want for nothing, to have anything you desire at your beck and call. To have a family who genuinely loves you. And a life with an unimaginable future.
I know it’s not their fault that they won the lottery onfamily, but that doesn’t quell the raging jealousy low in my stomach.
The sound of Mr. Dean’s doorknob turning and unlocking draws my attention back to Jules, who leads the way into the room.
Like I said, I doubthewould be sleeping in. He never has. Always punctual and perfect. Even his room is clean before we get to it, tidy and put together.
I’ve never spoken to him or even seen him in person, but I imagine everything he says is as calculated as his room.
You can tell a lot about a person from their room, and while the staff may handle nearly all of the housework and laundry, the signs are still there.
In his closet—a twenty-by-twenty-foot room attached to his main bedroom area—his clothes are in color order, sorted by type: short or long sleeve, tank top, button-up, sweatshirt, hoodie, athletic wear, the list goes on. His pants are also sorted, folded, and stored to an almost-unhealthy precision.
He’s neat, tidy, andplanned. I doubt there’s much that goes on in his life that he isn’t in control of—or at least trying to be. I bet he’s a grade-A control freak.
Jules and I make our way through the room, dusting the ledges of the trim, cleaning every surface, and ensuring it’s in perfect order before shutting the door behind us on our way out.
We still need to finish the hallway, theater, guest bedrooms, and guest bathrooms before we can head back to the staff wing before classes start.
I step into the hallway, and the spray bottle in my hand goes flying, knocked away by something rushing by.
Someone.
“Sorry!” he calls out thoughtlessly as he races down the hall.
It takes me less than a second to register that the blur of a man is Mr. Asher, and he’s … shirtless, wearing only sweatpants, before pulling a shirt over his head.
Jesus Christ.
First impression of seeing him in person? I didn’t even know someone could have that many muscles on their back, rippling with every move they make.
