“And here’s something to fight off the impending hangover.” He laughed, handing me the drink. “I thought this might help you forget about the taste.” He put a little green umbrella in it.
“That is so sweet.” I pulled him into an embrace and met his parted lips with my own.
“I know how you could thank me.” Myles winked, letting his hands explore my bare body.
Another round would have been nice, but the uncertainty about his intentions gave me pause. Instead, I gratefully took the makeshift overnight bag he brought and made my way to the bathroom to freshen up. It was New Year’s Day and the shop was closed, and I had nowhere particular to be.
As I started the shower, Myles spoke loudly over the running water. “All right, but my friends and I are all meeting downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes and I’ve already told them about you, so hopefully you’ll let me buy you a meal.”
“If you make it forty-five, you have a date.”
“You’re on.”
Alone in the room again, I took my slow sweet time in the shower, letting the hot water rinse over me from head to toe. The hotel bodywash smelled like lavender and mint, refreshing and clean. After I washed my face, I twirled my hair into a smooth chignon and stepped back out into the brisk air. A peek in the mirror, I didn’t look halfway bad for my walk of shame, but I wished I had some makeup. For a little color, I pinched each of my cheeks. Then, I grabbed some clear lip gloss from my purse and finger-combed my eyebrows to rein them back in.
The bags that Myles brought were lying on the desk. Normally, black was my color, but the pale pink velour pantsuit and T-shirt were perfect for my relaxed mood. He even found matching flip-flops that actually fit. Myles had thought of everything, and I couldn’t discount that.
With fifteen minutes to spare, I pinched my nostrils together between my index finger and thumb, and downed the entire anti-hangover drink. The manners that my parents instilled within me wouldn’t let me leave without tidying up. Dad always reminded me on family vacations that just because it was someone’s job to clean up after us, didn’t give us the right to abuse the service and be total heathens.
In one full jerk, I yanked the blankets up into a flying cloud, letting them billow down into place. In the closet, there was a laundry bag that I gathered all of my clothes into and finally I swiped the trash off the dresser and desk into the small trash bin. Neatly, I placed his things with his luggage, with the exception of the little leather jacket that I assumed belonged to the Raquel, who he artfully weaved into the conversation. A cursory glance as I opened the door ensured that it was good enough for housekeeping.
On the other side of the door, a chipper and bright-eyed woman with bouncing brunette curls stood, meeting me right at eye level. Her fresh skin glistened, and even without any makeup, her rosy cheeks made her look as sweet as a cinnamon bear. In loose comfy jeans and a graphic tee, she appeared to be barely out of high school. She could have had the wrong room, but the way her eyes locked on me, it was apparent that she’d found exactly whom she sought.
“Hi. You must be Laila. I’m Raquel.” The words came bubbling out of her. I extended my hand, but she nearly knocked it down as she lunged toward me, taking me into her arms. “Sorry, I’m a hugger,” she apologized through a buoyant nervous frenzy. I hadn’t resolved to reciprocate the same level of enthusiasm, but I gave a short squeeze anyway, not to be rude.
“And you must be the Raquel who Myles mentioned.” I spit out with a touch too much edge on the tip of my tongue. Shamefully, an underlying jealousy rang in my tone. All I wanted to know was what she meant to Myles. On an afterthought I contemplated saying something else to sugarcoat the venom, but it was pointless since she seemed unfazed by it. “Your jacket is on the bureau.”
“Yeah. That’s why I’m here. To get my jacket and Myles asked me to make sure you were still coming down to breakfast. I left it here before we all went out last night. Didn’t want to ruin my outfit, you know, but Myles offered to come back to the room and get it for me. We were wondering what happened to him...”—she winked, moving past me to retrieve it—“…then, when he didn’t return, the guys were worried and we came back to check on him. And that’s when we saw the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.”
“Ah.”
“The guys were sure that he’d found some random skank for the night, but I knew it was you.”
Anyone would have thought Santa was making a U-turn and coming back for a second round the way she smiled from ear to ear. She was downright giddy.
My curiosity piqued instantly. Why in the heck had she assumed it was me? Myles and I hadn’t planned on meeting. We’d barely spoken in the past few weeks.
Myles had mentioned me before by the way she talked about us, like she knew the ins and outs of our abridged courtship. If he was willing to send Raquel up to the room to call on me, she had to be an old friend or important to him in some way. “What makes you say that?” I muttered, mindlessly fidgeting with the drawstring on my pants.
“You’re different. Not just some fly-by-night type of girl.”
“How can you tell?” I eyed her, with a little too much interest.
“Tell you what. Since they’re waiting for us downstairs, why don’t we take the scenic route down to breakfast, so we can talk?”
Without hesitation, I agreed to accompany her on the roundabout way to meet the rest of the group awaiting our arrival. With her jacket in hand and my bag full of New Year’s hookup clothes, we started out for the elevator. “Thanks for helping Myles with an outfit for me.” I felt friendlier than I had initially.
“No problem. I never wanted to be the girl in public, giving an encore of last night’s ensemble.” We laughed together.
Ten minutes into the conversation, I deemed Raquel an ally with the potential to earn friendship. Together, we entered Bouchon, a beautifully authentic French restaurant with the best breakfast in town. Despite the hunger pangs rumbling in my stomach, my mind reeled with the highlights of the conversation that had just unfolded. Raquel could easily have been a detective with all the clues and bits and pieces of details she’d overheard or pried out of John, her fiancé and one of Myles’ best friends. She filled me in on everything from the beginning, from the time Myles and I met at the bridal boutique up to our impending New Year ’s Day meal. Through her, I recounted every moment with the new information from his perspective.
While we were gown shopping with our sisters, I was loathing him and he was doing everything in his power to maintain focus on his sister. She knew about our meetings at the shop and at my parents’ house for Lena’s wedding photography appointment. He couldn’t believe his luck that I turned out to be her sister. After our little tryst on the side of the house, she said that Myles called John and the third leg in their tripod, Andrew, to tell them all about this woman who had flipped his world upside down. According to Raquel, Andrew and John recognized that Myles was quickly falling for me and tried to get him to pull back a little. Once they found out about Myles and Ethan meeting at my parents’ house—that was all the proof they needed. Immediately, they warned him that I would go back to Ethan and kick him to the curb. Which is why he didn’t call.
The guys even tried setting him up on a few blind dates, but the women were always too something or not enough of something else. Raquel was adamant that he had changed. His normal lighthearted, jovial demeanor seemed to be subdued. Early in the day on New Year’s Eve, he’d stayed a step behind his friends and seemed to be somewhere else mentally. She figured he had to be lovesick, which was why she got so excited when she saw the sign on the door.
More than anything, Raquel was ecstatic at the prospect of having another woman around. For too long, she’d been just one of the guys. Since elementary school, it had always been Myles, Andrew, and John. Then she came along and threw a wrench in their whole bachelors for life plan, when she hooked her ball and chain to John. By the end of the conversation, she was already trying to figure o
ut if I had any nice friends to pair with Andrew.
When we finally drifted into Bouchon, a voluptuous sexpot of a waitress, who seemed too risqué for the waking hours, in her black lace bustier and second-skin leggings, escorted us through the restaurant, threading us between tables of early birds and afternoon stragglers. We were inside the Venetian, but the atmosphere oozed with a little taste of the French countryside. Beyond the French doors, I could almost smell the sea, mixed with the sweet buttery warmth of bread and muffins from the bakery. The pewter-topped bar and the streaming pattern of fleur-de-lis floors added the extra je ne sais quoi. Outside the sound of fountains trickling, made the winter chill worth enduring.
At every turn, my heart flipped in anticipation. I’d spent the night, or at least the better part of the morning, with Myles. But this wasn’t the Myles who’d left me questioning all of his motives. This was Myles, through Raquel’s rose-colored glasses. The sweet guy with loads of thoughtfulness and compliments. The Myles with the insatiable appetite for me. And now, I was going to face him in the light of day, along with the peanut gallery who’d fought tooth and nail against me.
As we rounded the corner, inside the main dining room, near the patio, the group sat in a small alcove reminiscent of a sidewalk bistro. Myles was the first face I saw, on the far left at the head of the table with an empty seat beside him. The table was set for six, with four chairs flanking the sides and one at each end. He rose at the sight of me with a contagious smile that chilled me to the bone. His eyes watched me with a spellbinding grip, beckoning me toward him. Quickly, I looked away and scanned the rest of the group.
Raquel eased into her place on the other side of Myles next to the guy, who I presumed to be John. After seeing Raquel, I pictured some tall, dark, and handsome Ken doll match with a sweep of Bieber hair. But, he was a man’s man in every sense. Easily, I could see him chopping lumber or playing basketball—something that required use of his masculine hands. His body was built for labor. Average height, from what I could see. Tall enough for her to wear her highest heels and still reach up for a passionate good night kiss at the door. Green eyes and waves of a red rust mane, well-suited for his broad shoulders and lean physique. But he had a laid-back quality to him with light blue jeans and a long-sleeve white tee buttoned midway on the chest.
Only when I made it to my chair beside Myles, did I get a glimpse of the guy whose back was facing me as I arrived at the table.
“Everyone, this is Laila,” Myles introduced me first. “You’ve already met Raquel. That’s John, one of my best friends. Lisa. And my other best friend—”
“Drew.” I finished his sentence. Myles’ eyebrows creased together. The attention at the table was solely focused in my direction. And by the look on Drew’s face, he was just as lost. We hadn’t actually met. The last time we shared a space, it was a one-way advantage. He might’ve caught a glimpse of me, but mostly, I was eying him from afar to make sure he honored his intentions. Maybe I looked familiar to him. Otherwise, he had no clue, who I was. It was a date, or a non-date. Just not with me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember meeting you,” Drew eyed Myles and me inquisitively.
I opened my mouth to answer, but shut it with a slight sigh, realizing that I might have put my foot in my mouth for the umpteenth time. I studied the woman next him. All the introductions came with a relationship link, except for her. Who was Lisa? Was she paired with Drew. By the seating arrangements, Lisa could have been his date. “Uh…you know a friend of mine, Brooke. We were all on a flight from Vegas to New York recently,” I offered hesitantly.
At the sound of Brooke’s name, his eyes lit up like the Fourth of July, which was even more puzzling and possibly disrespectful, depending on Lisa’s status. “Yeah, I remember. How is Brooke?” he asked.
I was hoping he’d give me some kind of indication as to whether or not I should continue, but he didn’t. “She’s well,” I remarked, without adding more.
For a second, Drew hesitated, staring. His eyes pleaded for me to say more. Finally he asked, “Has she mentioned me?”
Lisa’s eyes darted in my direction at his query. I couldn’t have been more thankful to see the busser placing water glasses from a folding tray, making his way around the table as he requested our meal selections.
When the server left, I didn’t even attempt to restart the conversation where we’d left off. Drew and Lisa were wrapped up in a conversation, as were Raquel and John, allowing Myles and me a quiet moment. When he turned to me, I wasn’t expecting his words.
“Laila, I need to apologize to you.” His eyes met mine. I thought he was still talking about not calling, so I waved at the air, as if it was nothing but water under the bridge. Then, he explained. “I’m sorry that I made love to you.”
The words were jagged and sharp, the way they cut me so deep. At that moment, I lost my breath and my heart dropped. All the color drained from my face and my crossed legs beneath the table twitched nervously. My eyes glazed over and through blurred vision, I looked him in the eyes. “Fine.”
“It’s coming out all wrong,” Myles frantically tried to clarify. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that I didn’t want to make love to you—”
And before he could push the dagger in any farther, I was flying by the seat of my pants, flinging my purse about. “It was nice meeting all of you,” I whispered past the lump in my throat, back to the group. Raquel rose from her seat, pleading for me not to go, as Myles reached for my hand.
“Please don’t go. Just let me explain myself.” Myles’ chest rose and fell in rapid succession. His furrowed brows and pursed lips were fixed on me. He tried to help me understand, as he fumbled over his words. “I can’t do this here.”
My legs were like lead. Everything in my soul urged me to run, but my heart glued me in place. “Try.” I mustered. I knew all eyes were on him, and his were on me.
“What I’ve been trying to say, is that I wish that we were together under different circumstances. I’m selfish. And as I’ve just found out, I’m apparently jealous. I want you all to myself, Laila. I think I can speak for all men, when I say no man wants to share.” He paused briefly and I felt the weight of his stare searing through my back straight to my heart. “At least not when the woman matters.”
Against my better judgment, I turned to him only to be captured by his pleading expression. The hardened demeanor that masked my emotions slowly slid away, and in its place was only the aftertaste of self-loathing. It seemed no matter how many times he took me on the same roller coaster, I couldn’t escape the thrill.
“Laila, I know you’re with Ethan, but I couldn’t help myself. There’s something about you that makes me different. I don’t act, or talk,”—the corners of his mouth lifted and his smiling eyes softened—“like myself. Or, the self that I thought I was,” he jested.
For a moment, I’d forgotten where we were. Movement off to the left of Myles caught my attention. Raquel stood awaiting the outcome. Suddenly, I was cognizant of the fact that Myles and I had become the morning matinee. All eyes were adeptly trained on us. There wasn’t a stir in the room aside from the twinkling backdrop of Louis Armstrong’s rustic version of “La Vie en Rose.” I froze in place as heat seared my face, leading a trail down my neck.
By the blank look on his face, I couldn’t tell whether Myles cared or not, but he stayed the course. “What I need to say is, I don’t regret making love to you. It’s just that…”—I saw a lump rise and fall in his throat, which highlighted his already prominent Adam’s apple—“I’m falling for you, Laila. I want a fair chance at being the only man in your life.”
“Myles, it’s been over between me and Ethan for weeks,” I confessed matter-of-factly.
I watched as the new information registered. His whole demeanor changed. Tension released from his shoulders. His braided brow unraveled and the rueful contortion of his face twisted into that knowing smile that warmed me from the inside out.
�
��I’m not even sure why I went back to him in the first place.” For some reason, I felt compelled to explain myself. “Going backward is always a bad sign.”
At first, Myles ogled me, seemingly searching for truth. When he finally determined that he was satisfied with my admission, he drew me into his body, melding my body into his. “How do you feel about going forward with me?”
There really wasn’t a question about it, but I refrained from answering too quickly. “Under one condition.”
“Anything.” He beamed.
“We have to start over from square one. Pretend we never met and we know nothing about one another. It’ll be hard not to talk about everything, or remember where we’ve been,” I admitted. Flashes of the night before played in my head. My lips lightly brushing the smooth ridges of his chiseled chest. The hungry grip of his hands exploring every curve of my body. Mostly, the swaying of our bodies rhythmically grinding to the sound of our labored breath. “At least for me. But, it’ll be worth it to give us a fair shot without the hearsay and two cents from our friends and family.”
Our eyes were locked, but I knew his friends were still looking at us. I wasn’t at all embarrassed by the truth in my words. Just saying the words emboldened me—I stood just a little taller. The time for walking on eggshells had long since passed.
Fifteen minutes later, the show and its encore presentation were over just in time for our food. As physically and emotionally exhausted as I was after our professions of love and making goo-goo eyes, I only wanted to focus on my primal need to eat. Around the table, a decadent feast had been laid out. I ordered Les Oeufs. In French, it’s just eggs, but everything sounds better, more romantic in French. Initially, taking four years of French in high school seemed like a good idea to spruce up my college applications, but the fact that it was a crowd-pleaser with the boys, was an added bonus. “Je souhaite que c’etait vendredi,” I’d say every Monday, just to sound fancy when I wished for Friday. Reading the menu, it all came flooding back.
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