“Normally I would accept an answer from you because that’s how you are, and your instincts are reliable enough that even if my cautious nature leaves me concerned at the frivolous way you do things?—”
“But this is your son, I get it. Just keep trusting my instincts, I guess, because giving this more thought will not change my answer, I can tell you that much,” I said, picking up my fork to finish my food. “When he gets here in like…a week, then I’ll do what you asked. I mean, if it goes badly, I’ll feel like absolute dog shit, but at least I know I wasn’t the only one who made a bad choice. You and Charlene will…with an added dose of parental guilt on top.”
Marc stared at me with the driest expression. “Yes, thank you for your awareness, less so for your lack of tact.”
“Yeah, well, that’s the price you pay for having me in your life and trusting me with stuff like this,” I said brightly, dumping the plastic container into his nearby trash can. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should at least consider what I’m going to say when I call an impromptu, whole-resort meeting tomorrow. Who knows, maybe there’ll be enough of an uproar that I’ll be spared from having to take on this new responsibility…ugh,andit’s the summer season too! Christ, what a few months this is going to be.”
“Ah, you’re bitching and being slightly histrionic,” Marc said, and the bastard’s shoulders were easing. “Well, I suppose that’s that.”
“I’m not even going to ask because I have enough on my plate without worrying about what you’re thinking,” I said, pushing up from the desk. “Question for you, though.”
“Of course,” he said.
“Did you sleep with any guys I know?” I wondered.
A strange expression flashed over his face, gone too fast for me to determine if it was unhappiness, pain, distrust, guilt,or any other negative emotion, I knew he wasn’t feeling great at hearing the question and I felt a pang of guilt. “Any other questions beyond those nosing into old, personal history?”
“Fine,” I said, taking the not so gentle hint and letting myself out the door. “But I’ll be asking again, because I don’t believe you.”
“Of course you don’t,” he said wearily, and yet…there was affection.
MARC
The problemwith trying not to think about something was that in trying, you achieved the opposite. It was the same when you tried not to worry; all you managed was an irritating dance of trying to pull away from the worried thoughts before you were drawn back to them. Then you found yourself stuck in the worrying spiral before you caught yourself and, chiding yourself firmly, yanked your mind away from those thoughts…only to come right back to them again.
I stared at the clock on my computer. Jude should have arrived almost seven hours before, but his flight had been delayed and it was going to take one hell of an Uber trip from the airport when he finally landed before arriving at the resort. I had yet to receive a text saying he’d landed, which meant when he did, it would be another three hours from Denver before he reached the resort, and that was only because it would be the middle of the night with no traffic.
I knew planes were safe, and there wasn’t anything I could do. Hell, statistically speaking, he was more likely to get hurt or killed on the way to and from the airport than he was on the plane.
I wrinkled my nose; no, that thought didn’t help, especially when he had a long car ride to the resort.
Rather than think too hard, I drained the rest of my drink and watched the clock. It still read just shy of ten at night, though I’d swear at least ten minutes should have passed, but it had only been two. The alcohol was helping, but I would need more if I was going to assuage my nerves. Of course, there was the delicate balancing act of making sure I wasn’t wasted by the time Jude got here, but it wasn’t my first time playing that game, and I could be good at it when it was important.
I poured another one and took a sip, leaning back and staring at anything but my computer. It wasn’t my first late night, and it wouldn’t be my last. In a couple of hours, it would be the level of quiet that I loved, where I could take myself downstairs into the normally busy areas of the resort and just…walk. It wasn’t like I disliked the people here, staff or guests, but I had always liked space, and being around people was…unnerving.
A sigh bubbled up but came out strangled as a figure appeared in the doorway. For one crazed moment, I thought it could somehow be Jude and that the normally responsible boy…man, had been so frazzled and exhausted he hadn’t remembered to text. That was until I looked and realized it was Reggie. Gone were the casual but mostly formal clothes he wore while he was ‘on the clock’, replaced by a pair of shorts and a tank top.
“Jesus,” I muttered, mostly my melodramatic reaction rather than anything he had done. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d appeared at my office door without warning. If I’d wanted better warning, I would have closed the door.
“Jumpy,” he said, walking up and setting his tablet on the desk. “Still nothing, huh?”
“No,” I told him, and because it was Reggie, I added, “I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”
“That’s the worst way not to think about something,” he said with a chuckle.
“As I’ve been reminding myself for the past couple of hours,” I said, taking a small sip of my drink.
“Hmm, how many of those have you had?”
“Not enough, but not too much.”
“Spoken like a man who knows his own body,” he said with a laugh as he helped himself to my liquor supply. “Truth be told, I had a couple myself. But I guess it’s a good thing you called me. I’m the best distraction you could hope for…at least around here.”
“I should point out that I did not, in fact, call you,” I said with a smile.
“Well, you should have,” he said with a shrug. “So here I am, apparently heeding your telepathic cry for help.”
I squinted at him. “And how many haveyouhad?”
