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It lets me glance at her as often as I’d like. Mile by mile, all the concerns I left back in the city slip away, leaving only the two of us and a weekend full of possibilities.
“What are you thinking about?” I say. She’d asked me the same only a few minutes earlier.
“That this will be our only weekend away together.”
I drum my fingers against the wheel, once, twice. “Might be, yes.”
“Might be?” She crosses her legs, clad in beige suit pants, with the matching blazer tucked into the backseat.
“Might be,” I say. “The future is unwritten.”
She hmms. “As long as that doesn’t make you reject our pitch, you know, just to ensure we don’t have to work together again.”
“Oh,” I say, “I would never put my own desires in front of what’s best for my company.”
Sophia chuckles at that. “God forbid!”
We pull up on the long gravel road a few hours before sunset. The hotel is made up of a collection of cabins, surrounded by old, tall trees, and beautifully situated at the foot of a lake.
Sophia sighs. “God, this place is so pretty. Imagine when the leaves properly start to turn.”
It is pretty, built in harmony with nature. I put the car in park and a man from the hotel comes forward immediately. Valet. Nice touch.
We’re escorted through the lobby, welcomed with a drink, and the check-in process is smoother than silk. Sophia stands beside me with a small suitcase in front, her hand curved around the handle. She gives me a smile.
“Mr. Winter?” the receptionist says, pulling my gaze back across the desk. “I’d just like to say that it’s an honor to have you stay here. Please let us know if you need anything at all.”
“Thanks,” I say, and bend to take Sophia’s bag from her. We head down a corridor and her smile widens, turns conspiratorial.
“What are you smiling about?” I mutter.
“Nothing,” she says.
“There’s definitely something.”
She glances at the attendant before leaning her head toward mine. “You must be used to this when you travel, right? Impeccable service and overly nice staff.”
I frown. “Impeccable is a high standard, but good, yes.”
“Most hotels must be scared shitless of having you stay with them,” she says, her smile smug. “You probably get the best treatment everywhere.”
“Absolutely not.”
Her smile widens. “Totally. The receptionist out there? Did you notice that she called for the hotel owner to join us?”
“No.”
“Well, she motioned for him to come out of the office. Anyway, all I’m saying is, when we check out? If you gave them a compliment on their suites or their service, I think they might faint with happiness.”
I roll my eyes at her exaggerated teasing. “Right. Do you want me to write them a glowing review online, too?”
“They’d frame it, if you did.”
“You know, the vast majority of people have absolutely no idea who I am,” I say. “I’ve never sought fame or notoriety, and I can promise that no one staying at this hotel will recognize me.”
“Yeah, but they’re not in hospitality. They’re—”
“Here we are,” the attendant says, and pushes open the door to a suite. It’s dressed in wood panelling but understated in furniture. The real showpieces are the windows, opening up on the silvered expanse of the lake, and illuminating the king-size bed in the center of the room.
