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“Front desk, this is Ines.”
“Hello, Ines. It’s Brett Greyson in the penthouse suite,” I said.
“Mr. Greyson. Bonjour. How can I help you this morning?”
“Do you have another hotel room available for usage for the next couple of days?”
“Is something wrong with the penthouse suite?” she asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just need another room.”
“Well, I have one a couple of floors down. It’s still a very nice suite. A living space. King-size—”
“That’ll be fine. Book it in my name and use the card on file,” I said.
“Of course, sir. Anything else I can do? Send up breakfast, maybe?”
“No, thank you. But I appreciate the offer.”
“The room will be prepared for you by noon. We hope you continue to enjoy your stay, Mr. Greyson,” she said.
“Thanks.”
I hung up the phone and fell back down into my bed. My shoulders felt a little lighter, knowing I wouldn’t be crammed in the same hotel suite with Olivia. But I still didn’t feel one hundred percent. I slowly sat up in bed, knowing I needed to prepare myself for the day.
My phone rang out before I could stand up.
“What is it now?” I groaned.
I picked up my cell phone and looked at it. And when I did, my blood ran cold. I narrowed my eyes as the same unknown email address blinked at me. The subject line had Olivia’s name in it. Again. Enticing me to open it. I clicked on the email and it popped up, showcasing a blurry picture. I narrowed my eyes and jacked up the lighting on my screen. I zoomed in on the picture, looking at it as I tried to process what it was. The email didn’t have any text to it. Nothing clickable by my fingers. Just a blurry picture of a woman who I knew was Olivia.
And she had her hand on the shoulder of someone who looked like a man.
I chewed on my lower lip. I saved the picture to my phone and tried running it through filters. I enhanced the photo enough to make out the fact that the person she was touching was a man. A young man. There was no gray in his hair, so it wasn’t Daniel. Not that any young man would be him in the first place. Her hand was splayed out over his shoulder, like she was massaging it. And the man’s arm reached out for Olivia’s waist, like he was about to hold her and hug her close.
I closed out my phone and tried not to let my mind run away from me. But it was too late.
Was the child even mine? I mean, she looked very comfortable with that man in the picture. And judging by the state of his shirt and the worn-down nature of his pants, he didn’t look like he’d be able to provide a child with all I could. The very thought made me leap to my feet. Was Olivia really trying to pawn someone else’s child off on me because of my money?
“There’s no way,” I whispered to myself.
And yet, my mind continued to spin.
The picture could have been innocent. Just someone she knew on the street that she was hugging on. But the smile on her face was big. Bright. Her eyes were genuinely excited to see the man. I picked my phone back up and pulled up the picture again. I looked for any sort of a time stamp on it. There wasn’t one. And there was no location information attached to the picture electronically. For all I knew, this picture could have been taken months ago. Before she even took the job with me!
Still, the idea that she was pregnant with another man’s child made me physically ill.
I stayed in my room until noon. I didn’t want to go out and see her. I didn’t want to go out and speak with her. After seeing that picture, it was obvious the person sending them wasn’t out to harm Olivia, just split us up or something. And truth be told, it was working. I was ashamed to admit it, but all of this felt a little too much like college. And when history repeated itself, it meant that sometimes shit hadn’t changed as much as someone thought they had.
It meant Olivia hadn’t changed as much as I thought she had.
“Are we leaving already?” Olivia asked.
I carried my suitcases to the door and shook my head.
“No. I’m just heading a couple floors down,” I said.
“Wait, why?” she asked.
“I just need some space. Time to think. Time to process.”
I turned back and looked at Olivia, watching as pain crossed her face. I didn’t want to hurt her. Just like in college, I had never wanted to hurt her. But this was all too much. And I didn’t even know where to begin with her any longer.
