A Bitter Suite Divide (Hotel Bellwether #5)

Chapter 1

Sadie

Fuckboy Lawyer: Did you know that the Moai (the Easter Island heads) have bodies.

In fact, I didn’t know that. I had follow-up questions, but I also knew where those would lead.

So, just like when I received the text ten hours ago, I did not respond.

Instead, I flipped my phone the middle finger, forgetting for a moment that I was in a crowded O’Hare airport terminal waiting to board, and shoved my phone back into my legging’s pocket.

Six in the morning was an ungodly hour for a flight.

Judging by the hollow stares of the people around me, I was not the only person who thought so.

I’d pushed my arrival to the airport as late as possible, meaning that by the time I got through security, all the little plastic seats were full.

I was one of the lucky few leaning against a windowsill waiting to board.

It was challenging to fall asleep standing up, but I was giving it my best shot.

It’s worth it, I told myself for . . . who knew how many times.

By the time I had the bandwidth, and funds—let’s be real, the funds were questionable—to purchase a ticket by the deadline my sister, June, had given me, this was the last flight available.

“You’re my maid-of-honor, I need you there,” she insisted, over and over. Even though I had promised to be there. It was so like her, and the rest of my family, to assume that I wouldn’t be able to show up on time if she didn’t make a big deal of it.

I refused to be less indignant or see the irony that even with her pestering, I’d just managed to book one of the last seats for this flight. And if, God forbid, I had ended up on the next available plane it would have made me a day late.

But still.

I was a mostly functioning adult. They didn’t have to treat me like a nightmare adolescent.

I was hours away from the Hotel Bellwether, and ready to fulfill my big-sister duties—after a nap. I rubbed my fingers across my eyelids, wishing it would help me feel more alert.

It didn’t.

A few feet away, a baby wailed, piercing the silence and startling everyone.

One of the dads bent to pick the infant out of the stroller, as the other dad grabbed a bottle from the diaper bag.

I was turning away when I caught a glimpse between their arms of a shoulder and a strong jaw I could have sworn I recognized.

My stomach plummeted.

The blood drained from my face.

My heart skipped and then sped up.

I snapped my head back in that direction, but the dads had shifted, hiding whoever was behind them. I’d have to move to double check that he was who I recognized in that split second. But that would be crazy, because there was no way that this stranger was my fuckboy lawyer.

Not my. Never mine.

Just a situationship that had strung along for way too long.

Like clockwork, a flood of embarrassment washed over me as the memory of our last night together came back in vivid detail.

His body, his touch, the woodsy scent of his skin.

The terrible sinking feeling that it all meant so much more to me than it did him—if it meant anything to him at all.

The shrug of one of his naked shoulders while eating a bowl of ramen barefoot in my kitchen after I’d opened up about wanting something more meaningful with him, and he’d let me down “gently.”

“My work is where I find meaning. It’s enough.

” He’d left shortly afterward claiming to have an early day the next morning and needing sleep.

Clearly, I did feel more for him than he felt for me.

It happened, not that I’d ever been good at receiving rejection.

But then, he should have had the decency to float into oblivion and not send non-work-related texts every couple of weeks.

Reminding me every time that I missed him, that I still wanted him, and that I didn’t feel even the slightest blip of interest for anyone else.

Shaking my head, I forced a calming breath in and out of my lungs. At least his comment about life’s purpose had sparked a new desire in me to find mine.

What did I want out of life? Weeks later, I still had no idea.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket again, and fired off a text to my best friend, Alicia.

Me: It doesn’t mean anything that I just thought I saw Fuckboy, Attorney at Law, waiting for the same flight as me?

I dropped my arm still gripping my phone tight and let my head fall against the window behind me.

To my surprise, my phone vibrated, before I remembered that Michigan was after Chicago by an hour and she was probably just waking up.

Alicia: Jamison is there?!

Me: Oh, God, no! It must be some shitty thing my brain is doing.

Alicia: Like an anxiety induced hallucination sort of thing?

Me: I think so.

Alicia: Dark.

Me: Yeah . . .

Alicia: Are you overthinking that this not-a-sighting happened on the way to your little sister’s wedding?

Me: You know me too well.

Alicia: It probably has more to do with you entering your ovulatory phase in your cycle.

Me: You really know me too well.

The strange man gave me a jump scare again after boarding.

When the curtain to first class shifted open right before takeoff and revealed his forearm and hand.

The dusting of sandy brown hair, and long graceful fingers.

The memory of those hands roaming over my skin, a thumb just like that brushing my lips, delving inside of me and making me writhe.

That glimpse completely ruined my plan to sleep en route.

Instead, I twitched every time anything moved toward the front of the plane.

Had I heard him ask for a water from the flight attendant?

But that was ridiculous because planes were noisy and I was nowhere near that man.

I was making things up out of paranoia, not actually tuning into the sound of his voice, because part of me missed him.

And, yes, I was ovulating.

I was on high alert after we landed in San Diego. It got even worse after an automated “Out of Office” email popped into my email inbox from Fuckboy Lawyer.

It’s coincidence, I told myself. Calm down, he can be out of the office the same day I am and not have been on the same flight.

I herded toward baggage claim with everyone else from my flight.

I scanned my surroundings like a prey animal, ready to dart at confirmation that it was him.

It wasn’t that we’d ended on bad terms. I just had to ghost him out of self-preservation.

Or I would get caught in our pattern of, like last night, he would text something nerdy, and we’d send increasingly flirty remarks from there.

Then we’d meet up for drinks—definitely not a date.

Incredible casual sex, followed by radio silence.

But the real problem was all the other stuff. Jamison was smart and funny, and super sweet at times. If it was just sex, I’d be fine. But I had unfortunate feelings for him.

Feelings I had expressed.

Feelings that were not reciprocated.

I was just standing after rearranging my carry-on. During the flight the perfect Tetris-like fit had been disturbed and the zipper wouldn’t close fully until I got it just right.

I was pretty sure that my suitcase was taking its second turn around the carousel by the time I got everything settled and closed up, when a high-pitched sound snapped my attention to a large, fast-moving object headed right for me.

I flinched to run away just in time to recognize the object was my very excited sister.

June wrapped me in a very tight hug, squeezing my arms to my sides.

“You’re here!” she said into my hair.

I slithered my arms free one at a time to return her embrace, partially because I missed her, and partially because she was now my source of balance.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, peeling back to look at her. “I told you to sleep in.”

She rolled her eyes, the familiarity of the gesture warming my heart. “As if I could.”

Pulling me close, she tucked my head into her neck. She was taller than me, but not by much, and my spine was in a weird position.

“I see you’re sticking with the weightlifting.” I shifted to find a little bit of comfort. “You’re squishing me.”

“You’re a good squish.”

I snorted.

She breathed in deeply, nuzzling her nose into my hair. “What deodorant do you use? I’m really impressed how much you don’t stink.”

“I bathed before getting on the flight.”

“Yeah, but I always feel like I stink by the time we land.”

“You do.”

“Shut up.”

I gave her back a few awkward pats. “June, I missed you too, but you have to let me go. This hug has gone past normal sister behavior.”

She squeezed me tighter. “Fuck normal sisters.”

There was a tremor and thickness to her tone that bleeped my big-sister radar.

“Oh my God, are you crying?” I had to shove on her shoulders to meet her glistening brown eyes. “Peanut, what the hell?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted. Her chin dimpled, and she swiped under her eyes with her ring fingers.

Her engagement ring sparkled—I would never get used to seeing it.

“I’m just stressed, I think. Mom is driving me nuts, and Dad is doing that thing where he’s trying to make everyone happy and that’s pissing me right off.

And Mike’s mom is . . . being so sweet but also, you know—"

“—A needy pain in the ass, got it,” I interrupted, earning the smallest smile from June.

“Don’t say that, especially not in earshot of any of them.” Her shoulders sagged. “She’s not that bad. I don’t know, you’ll get it when you meet her. She’s a lot, but she is also like, sweet, and generous, and really charming. You’ll get it.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said, but I had my suspicions. “Is that it, or do I have to bust someone else?”

“You don’t have to bust anyone, but while I’m bitching I might as well keep going.”

“Might as well.”

“Gene, Mike’s brother, won’t be here until late tomorrow. We kinda need him here to get their mom to chill.”

I smacked my hand to my chest in mock shock. “Am I here before everyone’s favorite sibling? Am I more reliable than Mike’s incredible, wonderful, perfect brother?”

“This time you get the best big sibling award.” Her smile almost reached her eyes. “He got hung up at work. It’s fine.”

“Especially since the best sibling is here.” Gripping my luggage handle, I swept my free arm toward the row of exits. “I’m ready if you are.”