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I wasn't worried about anyone catching me in the act. I didn't have any other guests. Bryan had gone to play with his friends, and Sherry was back at work. So I had the Lodge to myself.
Trev sounded as pissed as could be, while the lady spoke with real familiarity. I heard when he said Lauren, so I assumed that was her name.
Stop it. Assumption got you in this very mess.
They spoke for a while. I wasn't hearing everything they said, but I heard her with crystalline clarity when she said, "I’m pregnant." And my heart sank instantly. Suddenly, the eavesdropping that had seemed fun made me feel guilty. Betrayed. Depressed. I didn't hear Trev's response, or rather, I chose not to hear it.
I had heard enough. I didn't want to be there in the passageway anymore. I made my way downstairs, back to the desk I was at before this whole fiasco began.
Lauren's words kept replaying in my head. She was carrying his child. I was right there at the front desk, but my thoughts were far away.
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. The woman came down alone. I had expected to see Trev, but he wasn't with her.
“Lauren” looked at me. Before heading to the exit, she tossed a key onto my reception counter with the smile of a barracuda and sailed out of the Lodge.
The bitch! How on earth did she get the key? She must have come behind the desk when I was in the kitchen.
I watched her as she left. I had not paid her much attention when she came in, but as she left, I did. She was tall and curvy with a pretty pixie face, reminding me of Mr. Johnson and the ladies he used to bring with him.
Mr. Johnson has not been at the Lodge for a while. I hope he’s okay.
Was it possible one of the women got pregnant by him?
The thought of pregnancy brought me back to the present. I was filled with sadness. All the guilt that I had not felt in the past weeks came rushing at me.
My “no sleeping with the guests” policy that I had tossed in the wind came back to haunt me.
What had I been expecting? He was a hot city boy. Did I really believe he had no one special in his life all because he had come to my lodge alone?
Because of how I felt toward him, I had thrown caution to the wind. I had not stopped once to think of the possibility of there being another woman in his life.
Was it because of the way he looked at me hungrily? Was it because he was there when I needed him the most? I questioned myself for refusing to think that Trev had a woman waiting for him back at home.
I thought of how he sounded really unhappy that she was there.
Careful! Don't make excuses for him.
And don’t assume!
With Lauren gone, I wanted to confront Trev about his relationship with her, but then it dawned on me that I had no right to do so, as my relationship with him wasn't exactly clear or committed, either.
His question “Are you stupid?” replayed in my head, and I started to actually feel stupid.
The day went by in a blur. I was on autopilot the rest of the day. My brain, my head, were totally empty. By the time I hit the hay, I couldn't have told anybody what I spent my afternoon doing.
That night, I cried myself to sleep. I told myself he wasn't worth my tears, but I couldn't control the hurt I was feeling. I thought through all the possible explanations he could give, and I decided not to give him a chance to try them on me. I wasn't going to fall for any of his lies, and the best way to do that was to ignore him.
The next morning, I was in the kitchen when he came in. I saw him, but I didn't acknowledge him.
"Hey, I'm sorry about yesterday," he said.
I made sure not to look at him. I didn't want his disarming smile beaming at me. I did not want my tears to gush while he was looking at me.
"Are you that mad at me?" he asked when he noticed I wasn't paying him any attention.
“You called me stupid. You falsely accused me of doing something. I would never have allowed a stranger in any guest room, and I did NOT this time, either. When that lady left, she threw your room key at me.”
Then I went about my business as if he didn't exist. It was hard not to look at him, but I knew myself.
