7. Mila
Istare at the woman at the front desk. Aisha.
She’s going to be a coworker. I can’t exactly lie. She’ll remember.
“You know, give me a minute,” I tell her.
She nods, and I grab my suitcase and roll it to the far corner of the lobby by the front window to sit down.
What do I do?
Sebastian is the general manager! I can’t work here! We did things! He already asked me out again!
Oh, God. This is the absolute worst-case scenario. Why didn’t I pop my cherry in some other town? Boulder isn’t that big, only a hundred thousand people.
And by the time you break it down to men, single ones, in the right age range, sure, the likelihood that the man I picked might work at this hotel, which is a major employer in this area, was probably higher than I should have risked.
But the general manager? Really, universe? The big boss? The one who I definitely, positively cannot see again?
Except I can see him. All of him. The muscles of his chest. The plane of his belly. And below. Yes, I can picture every inch of that.
“Can I help you?”
I nearly jump off the cushion. A kindly elderly man with deep black skin and gentle eyes stands beside me in a crisp red Castle Hotel uniform. A gold pin on his chest reads “Bertie: Bell Captain.”
“Oh, no. I’m fine,” I say. But my insides quake. I’ve been noticed by two staffers.
I have to make a decision. Am I going to leave? Or fight for this job? Clearly, Sebastian doesn’t realize I’m one of the new interns. He led me to the lobby.
But he’ll know soon. We’re supposed to meet him and Havannah in less than an hour.
What do I do?
“You seem a mite lost,” Bertie says. He sits beside me.
Something about his kindness melts me a little. “I might be.”
“Are you waiting on someone?”
I hesitate. What to say? “I’m not sure I should be here.”
“And why is that?”
“I wasn’t expecting there to be someone I know. Now I’m not sure what to do.”
The quiet stretches a moment. I’m probably going to bail. Just leave. Go home, I guess. I was there all summer, waiting for this job to start. I can go back, tail between my legs. Try to find something else. Hotels are usually hiring.
So why not say something to Bertie?
I face him. “Have you ever done something really impulsive, thinking no one would ever know about it, and then the very person who knows your biggest secret ends up being right in front of you?”
His face shifts, his lips twisting as he considers this. “Well, one time, I ate one of my wife June’s award-winning cupcakes, not realizing each one was different and she would not have a chocolate-filled one for a competition.”
“What did you do?”
“Blamed it on the dog.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Did it work?”
“Yes, except I forgot how chocolate is dangerous for dogs, so June packed up poor Peanut to take to the vet to induce vomiting.”
“Did you confess then?”
Bertie shakes his head. “No.”
“You let that poor dog go through that?”
He lifts his hands. “Now, now. I didn’t. I volunteered to take the dog.”
I let out a laugh. “And of course you didn’t go.”
“Of course not.”
“What did you do?”
“I took the dog to the park and confessed my sins to the sunflowers.”
“Did June ever find out?”
“I didn’t think so, but then about twenty years later?—”
“Twenty!”
He nods. “Twenty years later, I go in the kitchen where she’s baking cupcakes with our granddaughter, and if it don’t beat all, that angelic little girl turned right around and said to me, “Grandpap, Grandmom said to make sure you don’t eat any cupcakes and blame it on the dog.”
“Oh no!”
“Oh, yes. My beautiful wife didn’t even look up, kept right on stirring that batter. Turns out everybody in the family knew that story.”
I drop my hands in my lap. “So, you’re saying this truth will get out?”
“I say secrets are like greased pigs, hard to hang onto.”
“Should I run away then?”
“Depends on if what you want is bigger than the secret. Choose wisely. Life is long. Secrets are short, even if you think they are forever.”
I sigh. I do want to work here. “I guess I’ll face this thing.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Take me to Sebastian Young.”
Bertie’s smile tells me he already knew I was over here brooding over Sebastian. “I had a feeling it might be about him.”
“Did he mention me?”
“He sure did. Texted me to bring some carts for the interns moving in today. Then asked me to look after a young dark-haired lady named Mila who was at the front desk to get her room.”
“Oh.”
“But there wasn’t any Mila who checked in. Or any Mila on the guest list.”
Oh, dear. “I bet not.”
“But you know what list came up with a Mila?”
I stare at my hands.
“Now, I’m not privy to what happened between you and Mr. Young. That’s not for me to know. But I know he’s a fair man. A man who listens. So you’re in good hands.”
I definitely was last night.
“Thank you, Bertie.”
“How about you get started on that intern work, and you and I push some carts to the back hall? Sound okay?”
I nod.
Might as well get this over with.