Chapter 34
PENN
I don’t get much sleep.
Of course I trust Hazel, but there’s something about knowing your girlfriend is out with her ex—who also happens to be your arch-nemesis—that really throws a guy off his regular REM cycle.
At about five a.m., I get sick of tossing and turning constantly and get out of bed, giving up on sleep altogether.
With nothing else to do this early in a strange city—six hours before I’m due to meet the Palmers and Weatherbys for brunch…seriously, what is my life right now—I decide to go for a run. Voluntarily. Ally would be so proud of me.
Maybe the monotonous action of putting one foot in front of the other until I’m out of breath and dizzy will help my brain to stop overthinking.
Careful not to wake Noah, who’s snoring peacefully in the bed next to mine, I slide my sneakers on, grab my phone and AirPods, then sneak out of the room.
Outside, it’s cool and misty, the world still bathed in the damp darkness before dawn.
I crank up one of my old playlists—the ones that used to make Hazel come upstairs and yell at me to keep it down—and set off, running aimlessly as “Sabotage” blasts at ear-splitting volume.
The run does the trick, because almost an hour later I’m sweaty, breathless, and sore all over…as well as very lost somewhere on unfamiliar streets of downtown Sacramento.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap in the name of the street I’m on into Maps. Luckily I’ve run in somewhat of a circle, and I’m only about three miles away from my hotel. I slow my pace to a walk and begin making my way back.
My phone buzzes in my hand with a text.
Bubbles
Morning! I know it’s early and you’re probably not awake yet, but just wanted to say I missed you last night and I’m glad you’re coming to brunch this morning. I’m so sorry about my parents.
I smile, excited to see her this morning, too—although I’m definitely not as amped to see her parents and the Weatherbys again.
What was Chad-dick playing at, inviting me to brunch like that?
He’s probably booked some really fancy place so he can make fun of me for not knowing the right fork to use or something.
Or he noticed how much her parents clearly hated me and decided to back us into a corner to spend more time together for his own entertainment.
Dick.
I hope Hazel was okay last night having to spend time with him and his folks.
I look back down at her text and I’m about to respond when I read her text from last night again with her hotel details.
On a whim, I put the address into Maps. Maybe I could stop by now to say good morning?
It would be nice to get a few minutes alone with her before brunch—even if it’s at the hotel Chad-dick booked for her.
I’m actually really close to her hotel, so I change direction and walk that way.
Her message included her room number, so I could just show up at her door to surprise her.
I find the place easily and approach the front door, it’s a fancy hotel.
Like one of those bells and whistles old-money hotels that most people would have to remortgage their home to spend a night or two in.
It makes me smile to see my rusty old truck parked neatly in the parking lot out front—I love that Hazel drove here in my vehicle.
Despite my truck being registered to a guest at the hotel, I’m not sure security is going to let me inside wearing sweaty running gear like this, but it’s worth a shot.
Just have to act like I belong here—no biggie.
I saunter forward like I’m a VIP who’s staying here, but a glance inside has me stopping in my tracks.
Chadwick’s walking through the lobby, wearing casual sweats and a shit-eating grin.
He’s carrying two coffees in to-go cups.
Thankfully, he doesn’t see me, turning his back to wait for the elevator.
I step forward, ignoring the suspicious glance from the doorman, and squint to watch him press the call button going up then stepping inside.
The doors close behind him and my heart clenches.
Why the hell is Chadwick here at Hazel’s hotel at six in the morning when he has his own place in Sacramento?
His parents and Hazel’s parents are probably staying here, too. Maybe he’s just bringing them an early morning coffee. I can’t help but feel it’s more likely he knows Hazel will be awake this early and he’s here for her.
Gritting my teeth, I step forward, and the doorman looks down his nose at me. “Can I help you, sir?”
I glance back inside again. Even if this guy, by some miracle, lets me into the hotel…what am I even going to do? Turn up at Hazel’s door and demand Chadwick leave when he apparently paid for the rooms? Cause a scene that will make her parents hate me more?
With a sigh, I shake my head. “No,” I answer, then turn around and walk out the door.
I trust Hazel, and I know she doesn’t want Chadwick bringing her morning coffee any more than I want him to do that for her, but still. It sucks that he gets to be there with Hazel and her family while I’m the unwelcome outsider.
Brunch is gonna be real fun, I’m sure. At least her brother was cool…and I’ll finally get to spend some time with my girlfriend on this trip.
I text Hazel back saying I can’t wait to see her either, and that I’ll be at the hotel at 10:45 like we planned. Then I turn off my phone and walk back where I belong in silence, alone with my thoughts.
I spend the rest of the morning pacing around my hotel like a caged animal until Fisher instructs me to “take a damn chill pill and relax already.”
Which was easier said than done, but the second I arrive back at Hazel’s hotel to pick her up and see my girl walk outside, I find the tension in me lifting almost immediately.
I watch as she smiles at the same doorman who sneered at me just a few hours ago.
She’s dressed in a burgundy wool sweater and matching plaid skirt, looking cute as hell.
Best of all, when she sees me, her smile goes from polite and cursory to wide and genuine.
“Penn! You’re here!” She runs forward, throwing her arms around my neck. I catch her, pulling her close and breathing in her sweet, familiar scent.
“Of course I’m here. I said I would be, didn’t I?”
Hazel looks up at me, her green eyes soft. “Yes, but I wouldn’t have blamed you if you bailed. In a perfect world, I’d bail, too, but then I wouldn’t hear the end of it from my parents for the next million years.”
I chuckle. “Well, I’m here for you this morning for whatever moral support you might need. How’d last night go?”
“It was rough.” A shadow crosses Hazel’s pretty face. “And there’s something I need to tell you. Cha—”
“Good morning, Ben.” Hazel’s mother’s crisp voice cuts through whatever Hazel was about to say. I look up to see her approaching us with a thin smile. She’s wearing a straw sunhat even though it’s February and drizzling outside. I curl my lips to keep from laughing.
“Mom, for shit’s sake, his name is Penn,” Cory pipes up from beside his mother.
“Don’t swear, darling. It’s very ungentlemanly."
He rolls his eyes, then looks back at me with an apologetic smirk.
“She’s bad with names,” he says, like he has to explain his mom’s behavior.
Which is kind of him, even if it’s a blatant lie.
I like Cory so far—especially as he doesn’t seem to blow smoke up Chadwick’s ass. That earns a point in my book.
“Morning,” I greet Hazel’s mom before smiling back at Cory. I slide my hand into Hazel’s and she immediately squeezes it. I can tell her mom puts her on edge.
“Right, let’s get going then. We don't want to keep the Weatherbys waiting, do we?”
Hazel’s dad puffs his chest as he strides outside to join us. He doesn't bother to greet me, which I guess shouldn’t be a surprise.
“Are Chadwick and his family meeting us at the restaurant?” I ask Hazel.
“Yes,” her dad replies. “And they’re already there, so let's get a move on.” He says this like it’s personally my fault we’re late, even though I’ve been waiting outside the hotel for the past ten minutes.
Hazel shoots me an exasperated look. “Chadwick’s parents stayed with him at his place last night, and I guess they left for brunch early. Even though we agreed on eleven.”
“Wait, the Weatherbys weren’t staying at the hotel with you?” I ask.
Hazel shakes her head. “Chadwick bought a house here a few months ago, so he has a spare room to host his parents, and they like to fly down for his games.”
“Oh.” I swallow. So that asshole was at the hotel at six this morning to see Hazel. What a sneaky little prick.
Apprehension gathers in my chest as we walk down the street.
I continue to attempt conversation with Hazel’s parents, but it’s awkward and stilted.
It’s a short five-minute walk to the Orange Poppy, but by the time we walk through the door, Chadwick and his parents are already at a table.
I’m beginning to wish I had made an excuse not to come.
Hazel squeezes my hand again, and I squeeze back, realizing I'd put myself in uncomfortable positions any day if it meant supporting her.
We all take our seats, and Chadwick snaps his fingers impatiently at a waiter, then makes a big show of quizzing him on the best champagne the restaurant has to offer. I smile apologetically at the poor guy, who looks rightfully annoyed under his pleasant customer-service facade.
Back in high school, I bussed tables late into the night on weekends to make an extra buck or two. I remember just how dehumanizing it can be when customers treat you like that.
“So how did you Palmers sleep? I hope the hotel was to your liking.” Chadwick asks with a beaming smile after he finishes harassing the waiter.
“Oh, yes. It was lovely. Thank you so much, Chadwick,” Hazel’s mom coos.