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Before I slide in next to Sleeping Beauty, I text room service and order Pop-Tarts and coffee for two. I instruct them to deliver the food to Tessa’s room at eight a.m.
Eating junk food in bed while watching junk TV is my Sunday morning tradition. It’s a welcome escape from the pressure I face at Hammond again on Mondays. I hope she likes the cherry-flavored ones. They’re my favorite.
33
Tessa
The clock reads four fifty-five a.m. and I’m wide-awake. I went to bed at ten, thinking I’d be alert and ready for my two interviews this afternoon. But no. My overactive mind kept me up most of the night, focusing on all kinds of scenarios.
Like …
What if I don’t get a job? Then I’ll have to leave New York City and Barclay behind. Does Barclay really like me? He did invite me out to dinner tonight, so that’s a plus in my column. What if I do get a job? An apartment on my entry-level salary will be difficult to find.
Question after question spun in my head. Poets call it the dark night of the soul. Others, insomnia. Me? A typical Monday when everything you’ve hoped for is on the line. At least the weekend with Barclay was wonderful beyond words. The lingering high will carry me through the day.
At six o’clock, I drag myself out of bed to get ready. I pin my hair up in a French twist and add a minimal amount of makeup. The women here don’t seem to get all glammed up like those outrageous ladies on the housewives’ show.
Aiming for a polished look, I pick a black skirt with subtle pink piping around the hem and pair it with a pink collared blouse that fits to form. The long sleeves button at the wrist, giving it a professional flare. After slipping on my comfortable black pumps, my eyes glance over to the black glasses Maggie bought me to wear during the interviews. The glasses are the fake non-prescription kind, but give me a definite librarian vibe. Maggie said it would make me appear serious and more accomplished.
I push the frames over my nose and give myself a once over in the mirror, turning my head from side to side. I look older by a few years, more sophisticated even. Maybe she’s right. After all, I’m trying to nail a job in publishing. Looking more like a bookworm certainly can’t hurt.
Right before I’m ready to start out for coffee, there’s a knock at my door. My heart skips a beat, hoping it might be Barclay before he heads to the office for the day.
I hurry to the door, opening it to find a room service cart and a hotel attendant. She greets me with a big smile.
“Good morning, Miss Holly. I have breakfast for you, courtesy of Mr. Hammond.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
There’s a pot of coffee along with several silver lidded plates. It reminds me of the breakfast Barclay ordered yesterday morning for us. But underneath the fancy spread were Pop-Tarts. I giggle remembering my shock when he picked up the silver tops.
We sat against the headboard and used pillows for our trays like a makeshift picnic. Pop-Tart sprinkles spread all over the covers, but we didn’t care as we watched Seinfeld and had a sugar rush.
After my last bite, I turned to him, his eyes filled with laughter, and he leaned over and licked away the cherry filling stuck to the side of my mouth. I’d left the jelly smudge there on purpose, hoping for a kiss, and it had worked.
I move out of the way as the woman rolls the cart into the room, placing the tray on the desk near the window. As she passes by, I notice a medium-sized box wrapped with a pink ribbon next to the condiments.
She refuses the tip I offer, telling me she’s under orders to accept nothing from me. I roll my eyes and smile knowing Barclay’s behind it. He treats me like a princess, and honestly, this last week in New York City has felt like a fairy tale.
After she removes the cart and closes the door, I rush to the tray to see what’s in the box. There’s an envelope attached, so I open it first and find a handwritten note inside.
Dear Tessa,
Since I was unable to spend all of Sunday with you, I bought you something from Yankee Stadium. Lucas says hello. He also asked for your friend Maggie’s number after I told him she was moving here too. Because she will, since I’m not letting you go.
We have reservations tonight at Mr. Chow’s if you’re still okay with outing our relationship. I know I am. After dinner, let’s head back to my penthouse for the night. See what comes up. ;)
And wear something pink. It’s now my second favorite color. The first one is the blue color of your eyes.
