I try to regain my focus and decide right then and there that Othello doesn’t deserve any more of my energy or space in my mind. I am done with him. So done. Clearly, he still has feelings for Carina. Why else would he have lied to her like that?
I clear my throat, pushing my shoulders back, chin up, and head held higher, but the look on Kenzo’s face gives me pause.
“What is it?”
“Looks like there’s been a delay.”
“A delay?”
“Yes, let me see. Hold on just a second.”
I blow out air, fed up with this day already. I glance over my shoulder. Othello is still standing there with Carina and her friends hanging all over him like he was some kind of prized possession.
I can’t believe that Carina Sterling is his ex and he didn’t even tell me. What else is he hiding?
I turn back to see the flustered look on Kenzo’s face.
“Um, Ms. Jacobs, I apologize, but I can confirm that your room is not available right now.”
Wait. What?!
I’m sure my face says it all because Kenzo looks like he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Do you mean, like, not available right now, because housekeeping is cleaning the room?”
“No, ma’am,” Kenzo swallows hard. “It looks as if there’s been a last-minute extension on the room you were assigned. Unfortunately, when a guest extends their stay, it can sometimes create a brief overlap.”
Abrief overlap?
“I’m looking to see what else I can do. I plan to have this issue resolved as quickly as possible.”
“I don’t understand,” I stammer. “Can people do that? Extend their stay? My travel agent booked this months ago.”
As if to answer my question, the concierge from earlier returns to the desk with my luggage in tow. He leans toward Kenzo and quietly explains that my room is unavailable, so he couldn’t leave my suitcases.
Kenzo turns back to me and dips his head apologetically. “I understand, and I’m so sorry, Ms. Jacobs.”
My mouth falls open in disbelief.
Cause what in the actual hell?
“Okay, so what happens now? Do you have another room?”
I realize my voice has gone up one or two octaves, and I could quite possibly be causing a scene. I can’t unravel here. I won’t. I try to calm myself, letting out a long exhale, but my nerves remain rattled.
A woman wearing a manager badge notices my frustration and approaches with curious eyes, just as Othello steps up behind me.
“Hey,” he calls softly.
I stiffen.
The heat of his body against my back toys with my emotions, and I hate it.
I don’t answer him. I can’t without breaking down. The day is slowly but surely turning into the day from hell.
“Hi, I’m Sabrina. The manager. What seems to be the problem?”
The woman stands beside Kenzo in a perfectly pressed navy blue pantsuit. Her face is etched with sincere concern. Kenzo answers before I do, showing Sabrina the computer and pointing to whatever is causing thebrief overlap.
