“Ms. Jacobs?”
I glance up. It takes me a second to recognize the face of the manager from my first night at the resort. Sabrina stands beside our table in her pressed navy blue uniform, a nervous smile stretching across her face.
“Hi,” I smile.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she says, placing a hand against her chest.
“I just wanted to apologize again for the room situation at the beginning of your stay. We felt terrible about the mix-up.”
My stomach drops.
Immediately.
Beside me, Collette looks up from her glass.
Sabrina continues before I can stop her.
“We were scrambling trying to find you another room after the extension. I’m just grateful Mr. Kingston was willing to share his suite while we worked everything out.”
The air leaves my lungs. Slowly. Painfully.
Sabrina laughs.
“Honestly, I don’t know what we would’ve done if he hadn’t offered. The resort was completely booked.”
I force out a laugh while cringing on the inside.
Please stop talking.
Please.
“Oh, yes, well. It all worked out,” I say weakly.
“Great. Trust me, we felt awful. And we’d like to offer you a $1,000 resort credit toward your next stay with us. It’s the least we can do after all the inconvenience we caused.”
I glance at Collette, whose expression has shifted from polite interest to visible confusion. Sabrina, who can’t read the room, stands waiting for my reply.
“Wow, thank you,” I manage after clearing my throat.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
“Again, sorry. And I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here at the Grand Palms.”
I manage a strained smile as she disappears, completely oblivious to the damage she has just done. I feel an excruciating warmth rush through my body. The Hawaii heat suddenly feels suffocating.
“What is she talking about?” Collette probes.
I gulp the rest of my champagne. “It’s a long story, really.” I set my glass on the table and gather all the loose ends, stuffing them into a folder.
Collette leans across the table, her eyes pinned on me. “Why would the front desk be scrambling to find accommodations for you if you were staying with your boyfriend?”
I open my mouth to speak but don’t know what to say or how to say it.
“Didn’t you and Othello come here together?”
My mouth goes dry, and I curse myself for drinking the last of my champagne. There’s no way I can lie to this woman again.
“We… didn’t come here together, Collette.”
