Chapter 6 Christopher #2
“You’ve been here all of two hours, and already you’re bailing on us.” My mum shakes her head and opens the car door. “Forever the disappointment of this family,” she says as she gets in, slamming the door behind her.
A sledgehammer crashes into my chest.
Kelly mouths Sorry, as she gets in the other side, before they drive away and leave me on the curb.
I’m winded by the weight of my mum’s words. Seeping through my veins. Crippling my broken heart even further. I’ve mourned the loss of the mother I’d hoped to have, and accept the mother I got instead, but low blows like that still wound me.
I imagine, for a moment, a mum who would be understanding. Who would hug their son tightly. Who would call for no other reason than just to hear my voice. The honking sound of a car horn startles me, and I shake the delusion away, returning the phone to my ear.
“Sorry, you still there? Thanks for that.”
“No problem. We still good for drinks later?”
The last thing I want to do is go out after that interaction, but I know moping around in my hotel room is the last thing I need right now.
“Sure, want to come to the Landmark for 7 p.m.? We can grab a drink there and head into Soho after.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you then.”
Stephen hangs up, and I walk down the high street and back to the underground.
“Mr. Foster. Mr. Foster.”
I’ve barely stepped back into the hotel when the woman who checked me into the hotel last night waves me down, stopping me by an arrangement of pink and purple hydrangeas next to the concierge desk.
“Good news! The airline delivered your luggage to us. I had one of the bellmen take it up to your room for you.” Her eyes sparkle with delight.
“Thank you, Imani. I really appreciate that.” Today, I see the golden name badge on her uniform. I must have missed it in my tiredness last night.
I instinctively lean in and hug her, and then pause, unsure what has come over me.
Maybe it’s her small act of kindness.
Maybe it’s the fact that she’s around the same age as my mother.
Maybe it’s that she symbolizes everything my mother is unable to be.
Kind.
Warm.
Considerate.
“Oh, and a bit of advice. You may want to be a bit more discrete down in the gym.” Her voice lowers to a whisper as a couple walks by and she points to one of the cameras by the stairway to the atrium.
The horror must be evident on my face because she follows up with, “Don’t worry, I ensured no one else saw the footage.” She winks at me.
“Thank you,” I say, quickly turning to make my way toward the elevator.
Is that why Alexander left me hanging in the steam room?
The slow ride up is punctuated by a number of stops that let guests off at the lower floors. I breathe and try to be patient. All I want is to get back to my room and finish up the last few bits of work I need to do.
When I reach the fifth floor, I’m greeted by an eerie quietness.
The bustle that greeted me when I left for lunch has disappeared.
As I make my way down the hallway, I notice not only a maid’s trolley positioned outside my room, but Rob, lost in his phone, leaning up against the wall.
He’s hard to miss given his towering frame.
When I get closer, Rob notices me, raises his hand and immediately coughs. Panic spreads across his face.
My door is ajar, which is strange considering I had left the Do Not Disturb sign on. Why would Rob be positioned outside my room and not further up at Alexander’s?
Rob ignores me, which is fine by me—one less difficult person to deal with today—and I turn into my room, only to bump straight into Alexander.
Ah, that explains it.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is. Houdini himself,” I say, crossing my arms. Alexander takes a startled step back, his eyes widening.
“I can explain…” he begins, then awkwardly waits for me to say something.
Although I am no stranger to awkwardness, I am not going to help.
“Go on…” I wave my hand, waiting for him to continue.
I’m intrigued by how he couldn’t wait to escape earlier, but now he’s in my room.
His gaze darts behind me to Rob, still waiting just outside the door, then back to me and then to behind him. He walks back to the table where my laptop sits beside a notepad and pen.
“I wanted to leave a note for you about earlier.” He grips the pad and holds it up to me. It’s void of any writing.
“Ah, a note in invisible ink. My favorite kind.” I arch my eyebrows.
He shifts uncomfortably, placing the pad back down.
The tension goes on a beat too long. Rob steps inside before Alexander waves him away.
“Okay, I’m not jumping to any conclusions here,” I say—I totally am—“but I’m guessing you’re not here to write me a note.” I sit down on the bed across from him and stop for a second, taking in how handsome he looks.
In the space of twenty-four hours, I’ve seen him in casual attire and practically naked in the gym. But this casual getup of a black button-down shirt over a white T-shirt, dark-blue denim jeans, and white vans might be just my favorite look yet.
“I was walking back to my room and saw the door open and wondered if you were in…” His blue eyes glance my way, but he doesn’t make eye contact.
“Mm-hmm,” I say, placing my hands on either side of the bed, leaning slightly back. I suddenly discover another new pleasure in seeing the discomfort rise on his face.
He takes a couple of steps back to rest his bum against the table, almost tripping on the laptop charger as he goes.
“And I wanted to explain about the changing room earlier.”
“Right,” I say, pushing myself upright. I’m not gonna make this easy for him. Especially after he left me high and dry. Well, high and wet.
“Rob called out one of my pseudonyms and I left in a hurry.” His eyes dart to Rob, waving him away again when he steps inside again at the sound of his name.
“Pseudonym?” I ask out loud.
“Yeah, Bruce,” he says, his voice lowering.
Ah, so that’s what the random name was.
“Oh, I had you down as more of a Casper myself.” I laugh at my own joke.
“Fair.” A smirk appears across his face as he twists his watch around his wrist.
“Boss, we really need to go,” Rob says, walking in.
Wait that’s it? That’s all I get?
“I better go,” he says, nodding at Rob and lifting himself away from the table.
“In case you’re worried, I’m not going to press charges,” I tell him, getting up from the bed and gesturing toward the door.
“Press charges for what?” he asks, looking sideways at me.
“Breaking and entering? Trespassing?”
An awkward silence ensues as he walks to the door, then I finally break into a smile.
“Oh, you’re joking.” His shoulders slump as a smile appears across his face.
I pause for a beat. That smile had me hooked, line and sinker, from the moment I first saw it.
“Well, this time at least,” I say, shutting the door on him once more.
God, this really is becoming a bad habit.
Banging on the door startles me awake, and I realize I must’ve fallen asleep. I grab my phone and glance at the screen, noticing 7:22 on the clock and numerous missed calls from Stephen.
“Sleeping Beauty finally emerges from her coma, I see,” Stephen says. He rolls his eyes as he barges past me and into the room, plastic bag in hand. He throws himself down on one of the armchairs, flinging my gym gear off onto the floor.
“Sorry, must be the jetlag,” I answer, shutting the door and walking over to the armchair next to him.
“Well, lucky for you, there was a hot guy a hundred and forty-three meters away. He kept me occupied,” he says, with a slight shoulder lift and a dirty look.
This is followed by a mischievous grin on his face as he leans over and pulls a can of Pimm’s out of the bag.
He chucks one to me and grabs the remote beside him to turn on the TV.
“What happened to Nico?” I ask, opening the can and taking a swig. I’m barely able to keep up with Stephen’s sexcapades.
“Oh God, that one?” he says, scrunching up his face. “He was three guys ago. He was good for my hole, but not good for my soul.”
I close my mouth to stop from spitting out my drink.
“Anyway, what about you. When are we going to find you a man? I read your star sign. It looks promising, and the moon is in Venus.” He waggles his eyebrows up and down.
“Stephen, I’m not praying to Venus for a penis,” I say, waving him off and turning away. I catch sight of myself in the mirror and realize I’m in no fit state to be heading out.
I get up to pull clothes out of my suitcase, when all of a sudden, I hear Alexander’s voice coming from the TV speakers.
“London’s one of my favorite cities in the world. I’m so glad to be back here. Everyone’s been so nice. The fans, the folks at the hotel, right down to the people at the gym who were kind enough to lend me a helping hand.”
My heart skips a beat.
He can’t be?
He’s talking about me on national television.
“Fuck me, he’s hot,” Stephen says, pulling out his phone from his short shorts.
“You think?”
I try to play it down, but Stephen and I have always had similar types, which has caused issues in the past. At one point we were forced to set an “I saw him first” rule if we both liked the same guy. It gave the other person space to try it out rather than us fighting.
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t fuck Alexander Morgan,” Stephen says. His attention is split between me and the screen.
I’m half tempted to tell Stephen what has happened with Alexander since I arrived, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
“Sure, he’s fuckable.” I shrug my shoulders.
Until I know whatever this thing is between me and Alexander, it’s best to keep it under wraps. Stephen always gets way too excited and overinvolved whenever I meet someone new, and it invariably only lasts a date or two. So it’s best to avoid even mentioning it.
“With arms like those, he could throw you around the room and break you in two.” A smile rises on his face. His gaze is now locked on the screen, watching Alexander, who is sitting alongside other guests on the couch. An actress gushes over him.
“My daughters are head over heels in love with you,” she proclaims in a seductive Mrs. Robinson-style tone. She reaches over and touches his leg, making me squirm inside.
But I’m not sure if I’m the only one who is uncomfortable, or if everyone else tuning in feels the same way. I look over at Stephen to check his reaction, but I’ve lost him to his phone. Pings of Grindr echo from it.
I turn back toward the TV and study Alexander’s face to see if he’s uncomfortable, but the camera cuts away before I can decipher his expression. All I’m left with is a slimy feeling in my stomach.
Is it envy?
Jealousy?