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“I’m going to go check in.”
Hayley nodded over her tea, her eyes polished bronze. He grabbed his stuff, his traitorous heart rattling the bars of its cage as he walked out of the room.
11 INT. HOTEL — RECEPTION DESK
The hotel manager enters his details while Harrison waits.
* * *
The lobby was quite nice for a mid-budget hotel. The vaulted ceiling spilled light into the room, bringing to life the flecks of golden brown in the terrazzo flooring that only dragged Harrison’s mind back to the woman he’d walked away from.
Again.
“Mr. Kyle, I’m so sorry, but there’s been a mix-up with your room.”
Harrison’s exhale was dragged from the depths of his feet. All he wanted was for this day to end, but it seemed determined to throw everything it could at him.
“Please tell me you’re joking. I’m running on two hours of sleep and three terrible coffees, one of which I’m wearing. All I want is to shower and change. So if you’re about to tell me that I flew all the way here and I don’t have a room, I’m going to need you to not do that.”
“No, no! Nothing like that. You definitely have a room. It’s… just…”
“What?” How could this get worse?
“Well, you see, the thing is,” he said, tapping away at the computer, “we’re completely booked up with the Valentine’s festival, and we’ve had a few double bookings, so we’ve had to move you from where we’d originally had you placed. No extra charge, of course.”
The festival. Of course. How could he forget?
Harrison braced himself. “Tell me.”
“It’s the honeymoon suite.”
Harrison’s laugh reverberated off the high ceilings. He was cursed. Had to be.
“Sure, okay. Why not?”
The manager looked relieved. Harrison kind of wanted to scream. Hayley would probably tell him to untwist his knickers, and she’d be right. But dammit, today was veering into independently distributed territory. If one more absurd thing happened, he would turn this wacky comedy of errors into a court drama. And he was not the kind of protagonist audiences would look favorably on.
He was far more anti than hero, thank you very much.
Once the keycard was handed over, all Harrison could focus on was locking himself away and forgetting that today had even happened.
He didn’t want to like the suite, but it was nice. Though the beige reckoning persisted — walls, ceiling, carefully selected abstract paintings that Harrison was sure were bought in bulk from an overseas printing factory — it clearly paid to be in the best room of the house.
He even liked the pops of gold, rich timber furniture, and drapings of deep green, moody and seductive, which ran throughout. Crisp white flooded the bathroom, with its claw foot tub and double sink.
The single bedroom looked out over the river, with city views continuing from the separate lounge. There was even a damn breakfast nook, stocked full of teas and coffees. No Earl Grey, though.
Harrison slunk around every corner, checking for petals and champagne. Now he was being ridiculous. When he found none, he finally slumped into the bed and toed off his shoes.
Lee really had a lot to answer for. The only way this could get worse was if he’d been stuck here with Hayley. God help him.
He dialed the familiar number and couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked this regularly.
“Lee, I swear to god if you are behind this, I’m going to murder you. And enjoy it.”
“So violent today,” he said. “Hayley’s really getting to you, huh?”
“I can handle Hayley.”
