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“What if Sydney’s there?”
“What about it?”
I sigh. “I’d hate for her to realize she was slumming it with the wrong guy when she could have any of those money-hungry men out there.”
Nathan growls, something I’ve never heard him do before when it comes to me, and he places a hand on my shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me? And don’t say a single word about you still being my dad,” he says with an arched brow, knowing those words were going to pop out. “You are the best guy, and Dad, I know and you’ve done well for someone who has been doing it all on their own. If she can’t see that simply because of the way you dress, then she doesn’t deserve to be with you.”
In all the years I’ve been raising this child, he’s never gone off like that with me. Granted, he’s never had to since I’ve always been a grouchy asshole that didn’t care about being with women all like that — but still.
I nod at his words. “I hear you, son.” I glance at the invitation still clutched in my hand and look back at him. “You really think I should go?”
“Seems like a good way to get away from all the stress we’ve been dealing with,” he mutters. Each day that he practices on the horse my anxiety lessens a little more, which is a relief for both of us, and the derby is only getting closer. “Plus, it will get you off my ass for a while. I’m worried Sydney will get lightheaded just by breathing in that damn place.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, sorry, I guess it should be clean enough, right?”
He scoffs. “You think? That place could go a year without being cleaned and still be spotless at this point.”
“Okay, I get it,” I mumble. “I’m going overboard.”
“Yeah, you are, but I don’t mind. I haven’t seen you this way for a really long time.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice, but instead of elaborating on it, he leans up with a sigh before standing. “I’m going to check on the horses, I’ll see you for dinner in a little while.” Then he’s taking long strides out the door.
As much as he wants to see me happy, I’m sure it hurts him a little bit to know that I’ve found someone else to fill the space that his mother used to take up. No one could ever replace the light she brought into my life, but I know that neither she nor Nathan would want me to stay in the darkness forever. Which is exactly why I add a number one for the RSVP, then slip it into the envelope that accompanied it.
I’m not sure what will happen when I go to this thing, but here’s to hoping it will only make things stronger with me and Sydney. Maybe it will prove that we can handle the distance between us if she won’t stay at the ranch with Nathan and me.
Or she’ll see you and wish you never showed your face.
I don’t wear suits that often, so there are only a few hanging in my closet when I pull it open and I glance at each one before deciding on the navy blue one I bought a couple years ago — the newest one I have in my collection. It will need to be dry-cleaned before I go anywhere, but at least I have until the end of the week to get it done. There’s no doubt that everyone will be able to tell it’s some knock-off version of an Armani, but it’s the best I’ve got to make it to the event at all.
* * *
After a three-hour drive I finally make it into the city and all the traffic spilling on either side of me is a reminder of why I hated coming here with my parents. There’s nothing calming about the bright lights that nearly blind you while you’re driving, or the constant sound of a horn being blown because of antsy drivers. I love being able to coast along the road at my own pace with no worries of someone getting pissed off that I’m going five miles under the speed limit.
Just as it stated on the invite, I opened my email two days ago to find one waiting for me with my itinerary. Apparently, they paid for an entire block of hotel rooms that I’ve been graced with staying in and I’m nervous to see where it is I’ll be staying — hopefully better than the shithole I had plans of booking before I remembered the note that came with the invite.
My breath gets caught in my throat when I pull up to the address for the hotel and I stare at the tall building before jumping out of my truck. There’s a man standing right outside my door, a smile on his face and a suit tight against his body, and he holds a hand out to me. “Uh, nice to meet you,” I say, shoving my hand into his grip.
He blinks in confusion, but shakes my hand anyway, then he pulls away and points to the truck. “Keys?”
What the hell is he talking about? My confusion must be obvious because he sighs and points to the sign next to him that mentions a valet.
“Oh, uh, yeah, here,” I say with a nervous chuckle. “Just let me grab my bag.”
As soon as the bag is on the ground at my feet, the valet pulls away in my truck and disappears around a corner, and I take a moment to peek inside the hotel. There’s a crowd of people gathered, patiently waiting their turn to check into their room, but my gaze darts to the walls that have large paintings hanging from them.
I’ve never been one for art, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good painting when I see one. I finally manage to get my feet to move and walk through the revolving door and come to a stop at the back of the line. The ceiling is high with large chandeliers hanging throughout to bring the room together.
And I was about to book a stay at some rat-infested motel that was a few miles away from the city, just so I could afford the trip out here without putting us deeper in the hole at the ranch. Once another staff member comes from the back room the line starts moving a lot quicker until it’s finally my turn. “Uh, the room should be under Dudley.”
The woman glances at me with a frown, probably confused as to what someone like me is doing in their establishment, then darts her gaze across the screen before blinking back in surprise. “Here you go, Mr. Dudley, please enjoy your stay.” There’s an underlying statement she isn’t making known, but I know it’s moving around in her head — she’s already making assumptions that I’m going to steal something from here before I leave.
The stereotypes only seem to get worse.
A few of the guests who came in before me are lounging on the chairs in the lobby, talking back and forth with each other, and I quickly make my way to the elevators. I’ve always prided myself on being a polite person, but that’s all going to go out the window if any of these people say something sideways to me. It doesn’t help that my mood only gets worse the longer I’m away from Sydney and now I’m about to see her in her element — which means my stress levels are abnormally higher than they probably should be.
I thought the lobby was the best part of the place, but the moment I step foot into my room for the weekend I’m blown away. It’s nothing like the hotel rooms I’m used to staying in — there’s a large kitchen that connects to the sitting area, and when I get down the hallway there’s a large bedroom to my right. Who the hell had the money to book hotels for the weekend, and is this how everyone’s looks?
I’m in over my head here and I can feel the sweat sticking to my shirt as my nerves increase. Was this a bad idea? I nearly rip my shirt off, my skin heating up the longer I have it on, and I throw it onto the floor before running my hands through my hair. It was a bad idea to come alone. I should’ve added a plus one to the invite and brought Nathan with me.
