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And that makes Stone Rivers… what? My kryptonite? Because the minute I breathe the same air as him, I find myself confronting bullies, breaking decades of family code, fornicating in public, and shattering rules that I have never even been tempted to bend.
He knows where my room is, but certainly he can’t come in unless I open that door.
And tomorrow, I’ll request a room change.
And I won’t leave my room until it’s time for me to go home early next week. I have my books, my laptop, my phone and a killer view. I could go home early, but...I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to be alone like this again.
The steady stream of room service will be a boon for the staff - they’ll get tips each time they bring me something – so that’s a silver lining.
God only knows what kinds of germs I’m avoiding by not using any of the six pools on site. I have a hot tub on my balcony, and that’s going to be amazing.
By the time I’m stepping off the elevator, my resolve is firm and I’m feeling like maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Until I see Matty sitting on the floor outside my room.
Breaking
Regan
“Hey,” I call as I approach.
Matty looks up and gives me an awkward smile. “You’re alone?” She lifts up to standing in front of my door and crosses her arms tightly over her chest as if she’s warding off the cold. She smiles, but the tense set of her jaw puts me on edge.
I mimic her stance and don’t return her smile. “Yeah, we had to go our separate ways”
“So…are you going to see him again?” she asks, and I get the distinct impression she’s stalling.
“Probably not. It was reckless. What’s up?” I add to preempt any more beating around the bush.
She purses her lips and clears her throat. “I just wanted to say bye. It was nice to see you.”
I nod my head slowly, my expression one of exaggerated expectancy, as I wait for her to say whatever she’s clearly holding back.
When she just looks up and down the corridor, and doesn’t say anything else, my discomfort grows.
“Well, my number hasn’t changed. If you’re ever in Houston, let me know.” I pull my keycard out of my pocket.
“Wait, uh- do you still have the bakery?”
I quirk my eyebrow in bemusement at her out-of-left-field question, “It’s still there, but we sold it to a new owner.”
“We? Are you back at Wilde?” Her expression is neutral, but her cryptic question feels far from benign and I’m beyond ready for her to get to the point.
“No. Nope. My grandfather’s banishment stuck.”
She relaxes her shoulders a little and her jaw loosens, as if she’s relieved to hear that. “So, what do you do, now?”
“I raise my children and raise money for causes I believe in.”
“You don’t work at all??”
I tense. Years of Mommy wars and my own dissatisfaction with the state of my life put me on the defensive.
“Marcel thinks it’s a negative reflection on him as a provider if his wife works to earn wages.” I mimic my husband’s French treatment of the word wages, imbuing it with all of the disdain that he does.
Matty raises an eyebrow in surprise, “And you don’t mind that? The Regan I knew-
“Is gone,” I make light of my heavy predicament and force a resigned smile.
