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She nodded as though she were seeing inside my head. “Yes, I’m your housekeeper. The one who’s been leaving you notes. Who wrote you the nasty one for the way the room looked after Jenner’s bachelor weekend. Who makes your bed in the mornings and wipes down your shower and puts your toothbrush in that pretty glass container that I wash every few days.” Her voice had been getting quieter, even more so when she added, “That’s been me. This whole time.”
I didn’t anticipate this—not until moments ago.
I’d never suspected a thing. She’d given no hints, no signs at all that she worked here, but …
Fuck me.
That was why she hid her face whenever we came to the hotel. Why she always looked down until we got to my room. She’d told me it was because she knew a lot of people who worked here, which was the truth because she was a goddamn employee, but she’d spun it so I wouldn’t figure anything out.
An employee who couldn’t be seen with a guest.
An employee who would probably get fired if her manager found out she was spending the night in my room.
“What the fuck, Brooklyn? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why?” She licked her lips, like she was trying to pull them apart. “I’ve been asking myself that question nonstop, but the only thing I could come up with was that every time I wanted to, I didn’t dare.” She shoved her hands into her pockets. “Once I found out who you were, telling you I was a housekeeper just didn’t feel right. You own hotels, and I clean them.” Her face pointed toward the floor. “Macon, we’re on levels that couldn’t be further apart, and the more we hung out, the more you gifted me, the more you wanted to be with me”—she finally looked up—“it became harder to tell you … and harder to stay away.”
“Did you want to stay away?”
Her shoulders lifted. “I was lying to you. Keeping a huge part of myself from you. I was afraid of how you’d see me. Of what you’d think of me. But I was drawn to you in ways I can’t even explain.” Her head leaned back, her eyes moving to the ceiling. “I know how fucked up this is. Trust me … I know.”
So many thoughts were hitting me at once, layers and layers unfolding.
The bits she’d revealed during this conversation.
The things I’d picked up on during our previous chats and not processed until now.
I shifted, holding the towel so it wouldn’t drop. “But you told Jo?”
And Jo hadn’t told me, which was a bunch of fucking bullshit.
She pulled her hands out, and once they hit the air, she didn’t seem to know what to do with them, so she circled her arms over her stomach. “I felt like I was in a position where I had to. She was asking me questions about the restaurant that I’d put on my résumé, and I couldn’t lie. Not again. Not anymore.”
Fuck, I hadn’t even thought of that.
The interview. The inquiries Cooper and Jo had made about her job history while she was in the conference room with them.
And all of it … was fake?
Except for the conversation she’d had with Jo.
When she was honest with my cousin before she was truthful with me.
That made me boil.
And that fucking steam was about to whistle like a teapot.
It didn’t matter that I was keeping a secret from her too. This was different.
This went beyond because, now, it trickled into Spade Hotels and the résumé HR had on file and …
Jesus fucking Christ.
Why had she done this?
Why had she let it go this far?
“So, you felt the need to purge your truth to Jo, but when it came to me, I wasn’t important enough to tell—is that right?”
