by Tabatha Kiss
Paige gawks at me in disbelief.
“Like I said...” I say as I pick up my suitcase. “I’ve already done Vegas.”
Two
Jen
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...”
The one person I didn’t want to run into this weekend.
Wasn’t Graham supposed to be in Canada? The brand-new Toronto location is breaking ground next week. I looked it up! He’s supposed to be up there overseeing the project. Not down here crashing my sister’s wedding!
I thought I was safe.
But no.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck...”
And if that wasn’t bad enough, I look like a damned wet dog. Thanks for picking a date during monsoon season, sis. It couldn’t have been a month ago? A month ago, I would have walked into the lobby with sun-kissed skin and come-take-me heels and Graham would have gotten a good look at what he could have had.
But no.
“Fuck, fu—”
I snap my lips closed as I realize I’m not alone on the elevator. A woman stands beside me, her face twisted in contempt over the top of her boa — which appears to be made from some type of animal fur.
A small child stands in front of her with the woman’s hands pressed firmly against his ears. He can’t be more than seven or eight years old and here I am dropping f-bombs like the Fourth of friggin’ July. Lovely.
“Sorry,” I say.
The elevator doors slide open on their floor and she rushes the boy forward to get him away from me.
“Sorry!” I call out. “I’m an assho— bad person.” I wince. “Sorry, again...”
I fall back against the reflective, golden wall and exhale hard.
I thought I could do this.
I thought I could come back here for just one weekend. This is about my sister. Not me. I thought I could keep my shit together. Instead, I snapped at some poor kid just doing his job and I made a complete ass of myself in front of Graham.
But I did not screw up that reservation, dammit.
Jenny. No one calls me Jenny anymore. It’s either just Jen or Jennifer but for him…
Jenny.
The elevator slides open on the 25th floor. I grab my suitcase and pull it behind me, taking a hard left and following the numbers down the hall.
Wow. This place has barely changed at all. The carpets look new but they’re still the exact same gold and blue design with that royal-looking family crest every couple of feet or so.
B for Botsford. They aren’t really royalty. But they might as well be.
I reach my room and slide the keycard inside. A clean scent of fresh linens and towels rush to my nose as I swing the door open, filling me with nostalgia. I haven’t set foot in a Botsford Plaza suite since... well, since my honeymoon, but I still recognize that smell. They haven’t changed their cleaning products in almost ten years. Possibly more. Imagine that.
I scoff at the suite as I let the door close and latch behind me. Everything floor 25 and up is always reserved for ultra-rich and powerful guests. Kingston spares no expense in making them feel quite at home — but he makes sure to keep his boys humble by booking them on the bottom of that top tier.
I guess I shouldn’t complain. My original reservation was for the 6th floor.
I leave my suitcase by the door and walk a little deeper inside, slinking toward the windows first to admire the view of the Las Vegas strip. My eyes wander up and down that replica Eiffel Tower getting blasted with rain and I smile — but only for a second or two. Being back here to reminds me how much I want to see the real one. But haven’t.
Ugh.
I turn away and spot the gift basket on the bed, stacked to the brim with a bottle of champagne, a dozen roses, and a bright blue tin wrapped in a golden bow. I tilt my head to read the handwritten message attached to the side.
“Welcome home, G. We missed you,” I read aloud. “X-O-X-O. The Welcome Committee.”
Those girls always did love Graham. They love all the Botsford boys. Not that I blame them. Even I fell for those dark brown eyes once upon a time.
I tug the golden bow and it falls away as I pop open the tin. My mouth instantly waters. Fresh-baked cookies, still a little warm in the center. They must have brought this up here the moment he set foot in the building.
I snatch a cookie from the tin and bring it to my nose, inhaling a strong, delicious, oaty smell. Oatmeal raisin. His favorite.
My phone rings in my pocket. I set the cookie down and reach for it, sighing quietly as I read my sister’s name.
“Hey, Clara,” I answer.
“I’M GETTING MARRIED ON SUNDAY—”
“Ah!” I jerk the phone away from my ear as her excited shrieking grows louder. “Yes!” I shout back. “I know!”
“Are you here yet?” she asks. “Where are you?”
“Yes, I’m here.” I sit down at the writing desk and lean down to slide off my wet shoes. “I’m in my room.”
“No, you’re not. We’re all in the hallway and I didn’t see you walk in...”
“Oh, I, uh...” I glance around the extravagant suite. “I had to make new arrangements. Apparently, all the rooms we booked were claimed already. It was twenty-five, right? Twenty-five rooms?”
“Yeah, twenty-five...” She hums for a second, then gasps. “Oh, it must be Scarlet!”
My stomach falls. “Scarlet?”
“Yeah, Scarlet.”
“Scarlet is here?” I ask. “Why is Scarlet here? She wasn’t invited, was she?”
“Well...” Clara pauses. “She was, actually. She just didn’t RSVP.”
“Why did you invite her, Clara?”
“… Because our families have been close for years? It would have been rude not to.”
“So, Scarlet just showed up and took my room,” I murmur. “Figures...”
“And she’s coming to my bachelorette party tonight, so play nice.”
I exhale slowly.
“Jen?”
“It’s fine,” I say, bowing my head. “This is fine.”
“Jen...”
“Totally fucking fine.”
“It’s my wedding weekend,” Clara says, slightly whining. “Can’t you two get along for like two days? You used to be besties. What the hell happened between you guys anyway?”
“It’s fine,” I say again. “I’ll just... sit as far away from her as possible.”
She pauses. “So, not gonna answer that last bit, then?”
“No.”
“O-kay. Fine. Just be cool. Find it in your heart to forgive and forget. Forgiveness is divine, you know.”
I nod, ignoring that last part. “I will be cool.”
“Promise?”
“I promise, Clara. It’s your wedding weekend. I want this to be perfect for you, obviously.”
“Thank you,” she says. “Now, get your butt down here. The limo is coming soon and I don’t care if it’s raining balls out there; we’re getting fucked up tonight because I’M GETTING MARRIED ON SUNDAY—”
“God—!” I hold the phone away from my head as she shrieks again, “—damn.”
I hang up and drop the phone onto the writing desk.
As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Now Scarlet is here, too?
Fuck.
At least I have cookies.
I grab one and shove it into my mouth as I stare around the room. The 25th floor. Just one floor down from the Honeymoon Suite, where my sister and her new husband will be in just a few short days. Where Graham and I were... for just a few short days.
There’s no one to blame but myself, really.
My father always said: Never fall for a Botsford boy. He’ll break your heart.
I should have listened.
Three
Graham
I step off the elevator and take a left, checking my keycard for the room number one more time. 2507. Just one door down from 2505. One door down from Jen.
Why is she here? I figured she’d never willingl
y set foot inside a Botsford Plaza ever again, and yet, here she is. Sharp, petite. Just as beautiful as I remember.
Doesn’t matter why, I suppose. It’s not like she’d ever give me the time of day to figure it out.
I pass by her and slide my keycard into 2507, briefly eying the housekeeper’s cart lingering unattended in the hallway outside. As I shove the door open, my brother stares at me from the window across the suite wearing nothing but a pair of unbuckled jeans and half-sleeve of tattoos down his right arm.
He looks away from the baseball game blaring on the TV and turns up his hands. “Hey,” he greets with a laugh.
I set my suitcase down and nudge the door closed behind me. “Hi, Hayden,” I say.
He grabs the remote off the bed and lowers the TV volume. “How’s it going? Long time no see.”
“Eh, I’m doing all right,” I answer with a shrug. “My room’s a little occupied at the moment. Mind if I hang in here for a while?”
“Hey, man. Mi hotel es su hotel.”
“Thanks,” I say as I plop into the chair at the writing desk next to an open tin of cookies. I reach for one but I quickly put it back when I see it’s chocolate chip. Not my favorite.
Hayden grabs a white tank top off the disheveled bed and throws it on, knocking his wild brown-black hair to the other side of his head. “You look like shit,” he says.
I laugh. “Just tired.”
He sits on the bed across from me. “Long trip? Still up in Toronto, right?”
“Yeah.”
His head cocks to the side, eyes squinting. “What’s up, brother?” he asks again.
And that’s Hayden. He and I have always had a twin-like connection, inside and out. Same brain, same build, same majestic jawline.
I clear my throat. “Jen is here.”
“Jen?” he asks. “Jen? Your Jen?”
“My Jen.”
“Here at the hotel?”
I nod. “Yeah. I ran into her downstairs.”
He blinks twice. “Oh, that explains the signs.”
“What signs?”
“The signs in the lobby. You didn’t see them?”
I lean forward. “No. What signs?”
The toilet flushes in the bathroom behind me. I turn toward the closed door as Hayden innocently bites his lip like a kid with his hand caught in the candy jar.
The door opens and a young brunette steps out, her torso twisted around as she ties off a white housekeeping apron behind her back.
“Oh...” She pauses as she sees me and holds in a chuckle. “Sorry.”
Hayden smiles. “It’s all right, baby. You go get back to work. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She leans over and kisses him hard on the lips as she drags her crimson red nails along the edge of his inked shoulder, clearly matching the markings just like them along his upper chest.
I roll my eyes and laugh to myself as I wait.
“Meet me at the bar?” she asks.
“Absolutely,” he answers.
He gives her rear a firm slap and she giggles as she rushes off toward the door.
As soon as it latches, I shake my head at him. “Doesn’t housekeeping usually get off at six?” I ask.
“Oh, she did,” he says, smirking.
“She can get in trouble for leaving the cart out like that, you know,” I point out.
“You’re right.” He feigns a little guilt. “I’ll have her bring it in next time. Thanks for the tip.”
Again, my eyes roll. “That’s not…”
He waves a hand. “You saw nothing. Besides, you have other things to be worried about this weekend.”
I sigh. “Am I going to have to go down there and check the signs myself or are you just gonna tell me what they said?”
Hayden hisses at me. “Fine. The shareholder’s convention isn’t the only event happening at the hotel this weekend. Apparently, the Parker-VanHouten Wedding is, too.”
I sit back, my shoulders sagging. “Jen’s getting married?”
He shrugs.
“Here?” I ask.
“Apparently.”
“At the hotel?”
“If the signs are to be believed…”
“My Jen?” My voice squeaks.
“Not anymore,” he mutters. “You ran into her, right? Was she wearing any bling?”
“I didn’t check,” I say. “But I did give her my room. Something went wrong with her reservation and we’re booked solid, so…”
“And that’s why you’re in here with me?”
I nod.
He pouts. “I thought you just missed me, brother.”
I exhale hard. I always knew Jen would find someone else eventually but I never in a million years thought she’d get married here. At my hotel.
“I guess housekeeping is making an emergency call later tonight?” I ask, gesturing at the door.
Hayden smiles. “Definitely probably.”
“Great... I need to find another place to stay, then.”
“Check with Jonah,” he says. “Last I heard, he wasn’t coming in until tomorrow, so his room should be free tonight.”
“Jonah’s coming?”
Hayden shrugs. “He’s a shareholder, isn’t he?”
“All right...” I reach for my phone in my pocket. “Is Ira in yet?”
“I’m not sure.” He chuckles. “I’ve been a little tongue-tied since I got here.”
I breathe a weak laugh and look to the TV as a batter smashes the ball hard, flinging it all the way into left field.
“You still on leave?” I ask him.
“Yeah...” Hayden pats his left thigh. “Doctors won’t clear me to play just yet.”
“Well, take it easy. You’ll be back on the field before you know it.”
“Hope so...” he says as he longingly stares at the game-in-progress.
I pace by the door as I find Jonah’s name in my phone. I tap out a quick text before I hear a door close in the hallway. I inch up to the peephole and spot that familiar black hair pass by.
Jen. My Jen.
“There she goes...” I say.
“Who?” Hayden asks.
“Jen.”
He hops up and rushes over to push me out of the way. “I wanna see her.”
“She’s already gone—” My chest lurches as Hayden swings the door open. “Don’t—!”
He excitedly peeks around the doorframe and his jaw drops. “Damn, she’s got curves now. She definitely did not have those before…”
I yank at his thick arm but he doesn’t budge. “Hayden.”
“Oh, pretty lady—”
“Man, come on—”
He juts back an inch. “Whoops, she saw me.”
“Hayden?” I hear her voice down the hall.
“And she’s coming over here,” he murmurs at me. He quickly straightens up and waves at her. “Hi, Jen. How are ya? You look great.”
“I’m... good. Thanks,” she says, clearing her throat. “How are you?”
I stay back, wanting desperately to get a look at these curves but I fight the urge.
“I’m great,” Hayden says. “Nursing a little injury but I’m all right.”
“Yeah, I heard. My dad grumbled about how now that you’re benched, we might win a few games.”
Hayden takes it like the playful jab it is. “Well, it’s his tax dollars going toward the new stadium next year, so joke’s on him in the end, right?”
Jen laughs. “Right.”
I nudge his kidney, urging him to cut the small talk short without bringing up—
“So, getting married, huh?” he asks.
I cringe. Goddammit, Hayden.
“Oh, no. Not me,” she says. “My sister, Clara.”
My heart skips.
He gasps. “Oh, right... there’s a mini-Parker! I forgot about her. What’s she up to these days?”
“She’s... getting married.”
“Silly me. Of course! Have you met the groom? Is he cool?
”
“Peter, yeah. Once or twice,” she answers. “He’s… a dairy farmer. I think?”
“Oh, that’s… interesting.”
“I dunno. Clara seems to like him, so…”
“That’s really all that matters in the end.” He snorts and leans backward. “Well, we’ll let you go, you seem like you’re dressed for a fun night out. Take care—”
“We?”
I punch Hayden in the ribs.
“No,” he corrects. “Not we. It’s just me—”
Jen walks forward and pauses outside the door, her eyes instantly finding me hunched over behind Hayden’s thick shoulders.
“—and Graham.” Hayden clears his throat. “Not we. Just me and Graham.”
I stand up tall but my eyes instantly fall, locked into those curves I missed out on before. She’s cleaned up since the lobby and put on a little, black dress that hugs her shape. Her black hair sits high on her head in a loose ponytail, keeping those sharp cheekbones on display along the sides of her pink lips.
Perfect doesn’t even begin to describe her.
“Hello again, Graham,” she says, her hands folded over the matching clutch in front of her.
I force my eyes up. “Jenny,” I say.
We pause, awkwardly shifting in place while Hayden bites his cheek.
“Give little Clara our congrats,” he says. “Bachelorette party tonight?”
“Yeah,” she answers. “Gonna do the limo thing. Drive around, take shots, scream out the windows. That whole… shebang.”
Hayden laughs. “Well, like I said, you look great. Doesn’t she, Graham?” He peeks back at me, smirking wide. “Eh? Doesn’t she look great?”
“Yes,” I say, staring daggers at him. “She does.”
Jen looks down. “Well, thanks.” She turns toward the elevators. “I gotta get going, so… I’ll see you guys around.”
Hayden waves again, his hand flopping about his wrist. “Bye-bye!”
I lock my jaw. “Yeah. Bye, Jen.”
She takes off and Hayden peeks out again for one last look before I yank him in and he closes the door.
“Sister,” he says, his eyes batting. “Her sister is getting married.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I say.
“Not her, though. And no bling!” He wags his left ring finger. “I checked.”
