25. Reid
Reid
“How is this even real?” Quinn asks as we pull up to the resort. We are staying at the Embassy Suites, and while it is a nice hotel for sure, the way Quinn is acting, you would think we were in Greece.
“I mean, seriously,” she says. “Look at this place. It’s like a castle. No,” she bounces on the seat of the rental car and turns to look at me, her eyes wild with excitement. “It’s better than a castle. It’s like a postcard. Or one of those commercials for cruises.”
“It’s a hotel,” I say, and she shakes her head with a smile.
“No. Not this weekend. This weekend it’s a castle. My castle,” she says, and she nearly jumps out of the car before it’s even parked.
We take our things inside on a cart and Quinn wanders around while I check in. I watch from my periphery as she looks at the bar, the patio, the restaurant. I know she is looking at all these things because she tells me about each one.
“Reid? Reid,” she calls over. “There’s a garden. The pools are at the end of the garden. And the beach is right there. Like, right there, Reid,” she calls over, and I sigh. But the woman at the counter just smiles.
“Are you here for the white wedding?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I nod. “Remington. Last name is Remington,” I tell her.
“Alright, Mr. Remington. And do you need a room with two queens or one king?” she asks.
And I’m about to answer, with the answer that I should say.
That would be right to say. But as Quinn dances around the hotel lobby like a little girl, I find myself smiling.
I find myself mesmerized by her ability to distract me from everything going on in my life and remind me that there is more to life than work.
“One,” I say before I can think better of it. “One bed.”
“Alright,” I say, heading over to her. “Are you ready?”
“Did you see the pool?” she asks.
“No, but I’m sure we will. Dinner is around the patio tonight,” I answer.
“There’s a swim-up bar, Reid. Like you can actually get in the water and swim to the bar.
I don’t know how you’d swim back with your drink, but that doesn’t matter.
As soon as we get to our rooms, I am putting on a bathing suit and coming back down to the pool.
Wait. How long do we have before dinner? I need to get a tan.”
“Room,” I say, and she is still buzzing.
“What?” she asks. “Shoot. I didn’t bring any sunscreen. Did you? Nah, you don’t need it. Your skin is like an olivey tan. I bet they sell it here. But I bet it costs an arm and a leg. I wonder if there is a CVS nearby. What did you say?”
She stops and I repeat the one syllable again.
“Room,” I say again.
“Not plural?” She asks, and it’s like I popped the balloon holding all her joy, and it’s slowly drizzling out in a puddle at our feet.
“Not plural,” I state.
“Reason?” she asks.
“It was cheaper,” I lie. It’s a bad lie, too. Because we both know that even if it were true, which it’s not (because we didn’t have to pay for the room), money isn’t an issue for me.
Quinn narrows her eyes at me.
“Let’s just look at it,” I say. “It makes more sense. For one, it’s going to look weird to everyone if the girl I brought as my girlfriend is in a different room than I am.”
“They think I am your girlfriend?” She asks, and I put my arm around her with a smile. People are staring. And I don’t need everyone’s first impression to be that we are fighting. So I plant a small kiss on her lips and guide her to the elevators.
“Yes,” I answer, once we are inside the elevator by ourselves. “I told everyone you are my girlfriend. It sounds better than plus-one, and people kind of assume it anyway, with how much time we spend together. It’s not like you and I are a secret.”
“Are we not?” she asks.
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “You’re crashing weddings on the arm of a very famous lawyer. People see it. People talk about it.”
“Ah yes,” she nods as we continue to ascend towards the top floor of the hotel. “The infamous Reid…” She stops. “What is your last name?”
“That’s not important,” I tell her.
“Right,” she nods again.
The door opens, and she follows me out. I’m not sure which version of Quinn I like better. The excitable one from the lobby or the salty one that I’m almost afraid to turn my back to.
“I can’t believe you only got one room,” she says again as we approach the suite. “It’s very presumptuous of you.”
“And like I said, let’s just take a look at it,” I tell her. “If you hate it, I’ll get another room.”
I smile and shove the door open.
Quinn glares at me, then looks past me, and the glare disappears along with most of her expression.
“Holy shit,” she lets out, stepping inside.
“I mean, that’s what I figured when I saw the description,” I say.
“But the pictures didn’t do it justice. Especially the floor to ceiling windows on three sides.
Really does give a panoramic view of the beach, doesn’t it?
I think you can even see the Ferris Wheel in the distance.
And I thought they were lying, but I think those chandeliers might really be crystal.
God, and look at these sofas! Velvet. Classy.
Marilyn Monroe would be impressed. I can’t even imagine what the bed looks like.
Huge probably. Big enough to starfish without touching another body.
I, for one, like stomach sleeping, spread out with the A/C on blast. But if you want another room, I can get you–”
“This is fine,” she cuts me off, gasping as she looks in the bathroom. Then she walks over to the balcony and opens the French Doors. “I’m still mad at you. But this is fine.”
I grin as she walks out and takes a visible breath.
I take a moment to put my things in the closet, being careful to only take up a third of it. If I had to guess, that giant bag of hers is Tetris-ed to the max with outfits and shoes. And the last thing I want is for her to be further annoyed with me during our little vacay.
My phone starts buzzing with a call, and I answer it, but only when I see that it’s Drew.
“Yo,” I say as I continue to unpack.
“Dude. You’re in Myrtle?” he asks. “Lucky. And also inconvenient.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “I feel like it’s very convenient. Myrtle Beach isn’t half bad,” I grin.
“Cass is losing her mind. Because someone decided that the bachelor party would have strippers at it.”
“That was not me,” I tell him. And I mean it. “I would never.”
“No?” Drew presses. “Because the last I checked, planning the bachelor party is the responsibility of the best man. And I think that might be you.”
“And I did plan the party. Dinner at The Whiskey 101, Top Golf, and Delancy’s Pub afterwards because Tim Wagers is doing open mic, and I know how you like your Celtic grunge. No strippers,” I say.
“And yet, Cass heard there would be strippers.”
“From whom?” I ask.
“Hell if I know. But she’s mad at me and she’s blaming you,” he says.
“Jesus. I’ll deal with it when I get back. Your wedding is next on my roster, and it will have my full attention on Monday morning. For now, I have another woman angry with me and considering we are sharing a room, it’s kind of more pressing.”
“Sharing a room?” he asks.
“Yep,” I answer.
“And how did you talk her into that?” He asks, and I watch as Quinn walks back in from the balcony, grabs one of her bags and walks into the bathroom before closing the door.
“I’m still working on that,” I say, and Drew chuckles.
“You didn’t tell her? And let me guess. One bed?”
“That’s how suites come,” I say. “And it’s a big bed.”
“I’m sure it is,” Drew says. “How’s the couch?”
“Nice. Why?” I ask.
“Because if I had to guess, that’s where you’ll be sleeping tonight,” he says, and I mutter.
“Yeah, fuck you too,” I say, but he just laughs.
“Seriously, bro. What are you getting yourself into?”
“Look. I was invited to this wedding last minute and considering Ryan is new to the firm, I was obligated,” I explain. Meanwhile, my eyes flash to the bathroom door as I hear the shower turn on. And something about knowing she is getting naked behind that door keeps me from looking away from it.
“And Quinn was obligated to go with you…” he says.
“She said she’d accompany me to all the weddings,” I state as steam comes from under the door. Steam that smells like flowers and girly soaps.
“Even the destination weddings…” Drew presses.
“Look. She’s fine with the room. I’ll deal with the strippers when I get home. Anything else?” I ask.
“Yeah. Don’t sleep with her,” he states, and my eyes rip away from the door. I also take the call off speaker.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“Sex? You know…that thing people do when they get heated and there’s a bed nearby. In your case, a very large, very secluded shared bed.”
“I’m not going to sleep with her, Drew,” I whisper. “I’m not trying to manipulate anything. I got one room because it would look bad if I didn’t. But I haven’t made her do anything she hasn’t wanted to do.”
“Good,” he says. “Because if you did take it to the next level, feelings might get involved.”
“Yeah. Don’t worry about me,” I tell him.
“I’m worried about her too, Reid,” he says. “She’s sweet. Consider that.”
My friend’s words piss me off. But they also make me think. Maybe coming on a trip like this does make things a little more confusing. I’m not looking for anything messy. But I don’t regret bringing her either.
It’s…complicated.