Chapter 25 KELSEY CHANGES THE SO-CALLED SHEETS
Chapter 25
K ELSEY C HANGES THE S O -C ALLED S HEETS
I had to escape. It was too much.
Zachery. His touch. His earnest expression.
Give that man a Golden Globe.
This is how he does it. How he woos all those hopefuls Desdemona sends his way.
He’s good. Too good.
For a full five minutes, I can only sit on the end of the bed, my clothes in my lap. I can’t quite comprehend what just happened.
I was so glib about it, asking him for sex. It was supposed to be transactional, a favor, a test.
Not what I got.
A full-body reset. A mind erasure.
I’m shocked that the women he’s given this treatment to haven’t become stalkers. I’m tempted. Zachery Carter is a drug.
I already want more.
If I hadn’t left as abruptly as I did, I would have never pulled myself away.
The house is full of creaks and groans. It sounds like someone might be coming up the stairs. There are no footsteps, but one of the sounds keeps getting closer.
Surely we haven’t stayed at a haunted bed-and-breakfast.
I race to open my bag and put on my pajamas with the gray sweater over them.
Then I hear a gentle tap tap tap .
The knock is light. It’s not on my door.
It’s on Zachery’s.
Why would someone come to his door?
There’s rustling. The ting of his belt. He’s trying to dress.
Then the crunchy noises of the door sticking before popping open.
His quiet “Hey.”
“Did you want to come down?”
It’s Livia, the owner.
I press my ear to the door.
I can’t hear what Zach says, if anything.
Livia says, “Sounds good.”
What sounds good?
Is Zach going to go for two?
Was I an unexpected appetizer before the main course?
I don’t want to know.
I slink to the far corner of the room and open the window. Warmth flows in, as well as the sounds of the festival across the street. An amplified voice cuts through the noise: “And for our last song of the evening to close out this year’s Dillfest, we have ‘Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight.’”
The quartet is back. The song is melancholy, and I sit on the sill, not caring that I’m wrecking Livia’s air-conditioning bill.
If Zachery leaves his room, I don’t know it. I’m not going to listen, not going to try to figure it out.
I hum along to the song, trying to channel my inner peace. What happened with Zachery has to be exactly what I asked for. A test. An act. A one-off.
I think of a scene in the fifth comedy he did, after the hit one. Zach plays the best man to his friend, who is getting married. In a ridiculous scene, they’re out for the bachelor party and Zach is about to have sex with his second woman of the night, a dark-haired beauty in a red-sequin dress who keeps having nip slips, which makes the groom bite his hand.
The friend asks Zach if he’s going to dip into this one right after the other, and Zach holds up a condom packet. “It’s like changing the sheets!”
And so, life will imitate art, perhaps.
I shudder.
The song comes to an end. The remaining crowd drifts toward the parking lot. The booths shut down, and carts appear in front of them, tired vendors loading up their wares.
I sit up when I spot the pale head of Simon with the young girl I saw him with initially, as well as an older couple. He looks so normal, walking with the same lanky stride he had with me.
Like nothing ever happened.
I withdraw to the side of the window, afraid he might notice me somehow.
The family gets to the street and wanders along the line of cars parked in every direction. He never glances this way. He doesn’t know where I am, or even who I am, really. By now, I’m already a girl he shouldn’t have messed with, one who got his face punched.
How can I judge Zach for going to Livia when I was with Simon under the bleachers just hours ago?
This night has been too much. I close the window and lie across the bed.
Tomorrow will be the next part of the journey. I’m not deterred. I’m relearning how to fit in and look less Hollywood. Simon didn’t make any connection, taking me at my word about Alabama.
I’ve confirmed that meet-cutes can and do work.
And Zach showed me that I’m fine. With the right person and circumstances, everything works as it should.
I pull out my phone to decide what’s next. I can stay in Colorado, or I can move on to the next state.
If I continue my northern trajectory, it will take me straight to Wyoming.
I’ve read a lot of romances set in Wyoming. There are sweeping vistas and plenty of cowboys. I zoom to the bottom corner of the state, near Cheyenne.
Then, like a sign straight from the meet-cute playbook, a marker pops up for a local business, almost in the middle of nowhere.
Hanover’s Christmas Tree Farm in Glass, Wyoming.
A Christmas tree farm!
A 4.8-star rating. Known for its beautiful trees, which you can chop down yourself or get full service, even delivery.
An alert says, “Half Christmas at the Tree Farm! Don’t miss our summer events!”
I quickly click on it. The main events are next weekend, which is early since it’s still May, but who cares! It’s like they’re doing it now just for me. There’s a square dance, hayrides, and a pie-eating contest.
That sounds perfect. I couldn’t have picked anything more on-theme.
I hunt around for a place to stay. There’s not a lot. The motel nearby looks like the one out of Psycho . It’s cheap, though.
I should consult with Zachery about it.
Tonight? No, I should wait until morning. He might be tied up tonight.
Changing the sheets.
Despite all my internal insistence that I’m fine, something in me is desperate to know if he’s in his room or if he took Livia up on what sounded like an offer.
I pad across the floor and ease open the door to my side of the bathroom. The space is still dark, although I can smell Zachery in here in the traces of his expensive soap.
I press my ear to the opposite door. If I hear anything untoward, I’m backing away.
But there’s nothing.
I tap on the door. “Zachery? Are you there?”
Nothing.
I turn the handle, not sure I want to look inside.
But I do.
The bed is mussed from our activities earlier. Heat rises to my cheeks when I see the wall he held me against. A curl of desire unfurls in my belly just revisiting this place.
But I wash cold when I realize the room is empty.
Zach is gone.
He left with Livia.
I feel sick and stumble back to the bathroom.
No. I can’t think this way.
Jealousy was not part of the deal. Or possessiveness.
I asked a charming rake to do what he does best.
Then he did.
I splash cool water on my face and head back to my room.
I’ll write out my feelings and be done.
Then there will be no more thinking about this. Only moving forward.
In the morning, maybe I’ll even suggest that Zachery head back.
Except that would be admitting that something has changed between us when I promised it wouldn’t.
And I certainly didn’t prove that I was fine without him. The whole Simon incident showed exactly how much he’s needed.
I have to toughen up. Close that door. Change my own sheets.
I pull out my laptop to clear my head and draft an email I’ll never send.
The only way now is to head toward the man I was meant to find, whoever he is.
I sure hope he shows up soon.