Chapter 5
Tuesday
This is it.
Loch called the hotel a palace earlier, and it lives up to the name. It’s grand, and if I wasn’t dressed in a hospital gown, I might be inclined to feel more like a princess. But the nerves making my hands shake and my breath quicken bury that fantasy.
Even though it’s inevitable Loch will be leaving, once he does, I’m truly on my own. It’s going to be okay. I try to reassure myself to calm my racing thoughts. I know I shouldn’t worry so much. As soon as a missing persons report hits the system, I’ll be notified and reconnected with my old life.
What if no one files a report?
What if no one misses me?
What if—
“This is where my family used to stay when they came to the city.” Loch stands next to me in the lobby. He glances in my direction, seemingly doing a double take. “Is everything all right?”
I swallow hard, feeling the heaviness in my throat.
He can’t be responsible for me forever. Be brave, Tuesday.
The name still feels wrong. “Fine,” I snap with irritation not intended for him.
Licking my lips, I take a breath and face him.
Loch Westcott is all I have. “I’m sorry,” I reply, exhaling a deep breath.
“Everything is fine. Thank you for asking.”
He angles toward me, and leans in to whisper, “Are you sure?”
Is it wrong to want him to stay?
Is it unwise to invite him up?
I already know the answer . . . That doesn’t stop me from dragging our time out just a little longer. “Where does your family stay now when they visit?”
“They have an apartment on the Upper East Side.”
“Ah.” I grin, a sudden realization hitting me like a ton of bricks.
Appearances can be deceiving, but I know how to piece a puzzle together.
The private car and driver, the suit, his profession, and the wealthy family who lives in an upscale Manhattan neighborhood.
The details all add up to one big picture. Loch is rich.
Even tucked in, my raggedy hospital gown makes me feel underdressed in the luxury of this place and around him.
I only have to suck up my pride a little longer.
I’m so close to a hot bath, a comfy bathrobe, and a good night’s sleep that I can taste it.
That is if I can manage to fall asleep. How can there be so much on my mind while it’s blank of anything that matters?
I stand straighter, walking beside Loch as we’re led to a private desk to check in.
Circling the room, I run my fingers along the backs of overstuffed velvet chairs and a bookcase full of dusty spines.
The old books with worn covers tempt me.
I want to take them down and smell the musty pages.
Is anything so soothing as an old book full of adventures?
The transaction is fast. As deals probably are when you have money of Loch’s magnitude. He comes to me and gives me the keys. The attendant moves back to the main lobby and then turns back to us. “I’ll have your bags placed in the room.” Then he looks around. “Do you have luggage?”
“Some packages will be delivered shortly,” Loch says. I catch his gaze on me, but as if he’s being forced to look away, he pulls his attention back to the manager.
“Very well. I’ll have them delivered to Ms. Westcott’s room as soon as they arrive.” Westcott?
“Thank you,” he adds, his voice as stiff as his shoulders.
I grin ruthlessly, taking pleasure in this. “Care to explain?”
It’s hard to be upset when I look into his eyes, but then he says, “He thought you were a call girl.”
That’ll do it.
“What?” My head jerks back. I glance back over my shoulder at the hotel clerk. Speaking of jerks . . . But for real, I’m in a hospital gown that ties at the back. When I turn back to Loch, I ask, “What in Hades would make him think that?”
He runs his hand over his hair, looking down briefly. “He asked me your last name. When I hesitated, I saw the look on his face. I was caught in the heat of the moment, so I went with Westcott.”
“Your last name? Because that makes sense,” I snark and roll my eyes.
“Would you have preferred Smith or Dawson? Maybe Johnson or Johnston?” Annoyance has his gaze hardening as he stares across the palatial lobby. When he eyes me, he adds, “Or maybe her highness suits you better.”
I try it on for size, but I get nothing, not a vibe or any inkling from it. “Okay. Okay. I get it. Trust me, I get it. Westcott isn’t so bad.”
“Wow, thanks.” I almost get an eye roll out of him, but he stops himself.
“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I know he put you on the spot, but please understand how embarrassing it is not to know your own name.”
“I should go.” He says his words clipped as if he’s already wasted too much time.
I’m not sure what happened when I wasn’t listening, but his whole demeanor has changed.
Checking his watch, I can tell he’s ready to leave. Not just from that gesture but the air has even altered under his commanding presence.
It takes me a hot second, but then I realize what’s different about him compared to the man who showed up for me. He’s back to business. I don’t know how I know this, but he’s the first thing that’s felt familiar to me.
The shirt buttoned up to his neck with his tie twisted into a perfect Windsor knot.
The glare as he covers the distance of the room.
The stern tone heard just seconds prior.
Even the aura he’s now projecting makes me wonder if the nice knight in shining armor was just an illusion.
When he hands me the key card, I’m starting to feel more like the transaction he spoke of earlier in a wrong assumption. I say, “Okay.” Is there anything else to say?
Taking me in as if he’ll never have another chance to see me again, he turns abruptly and walks away with such purpose that hurt has the nerve to seep into my chest.
“Loch?” Stopping, he turns back, his gaze meeting mine. “This is goodbye?”
The hard lines embroiling themselves into his brow loosen the grip, and a kinder expression reshapes his face. “You have my number if you need it.” He turns back, not in such a hurry this time.
“Hey!” I rush to him before he reaches the door.
He stops and looks at me. “What is it?” The shortness of his words from earlier is absent.
“What made you stop when you could have carried on with your day, lived your life no differently than you normally do?” I ask as if the third time is a charm.
His gaze lengthens over my head. He exhales as if I’ve asked too much of him. Maybe I finally have. Then he says, “You were unfinished business, and I don’t like loose ends. Good day.”
Unfinished business . . . Bottom line: This is not a fairy tale.
This is nothing more than the current predicament I’m stuck in. I’m sure I’ll be cozy at home by tonight with . . . I glance at my ringless finger.
No tan lines.
No indention.
No precious metal.
No serious relationships or entanglements. I attempt but fail to reassure myself after being called Loch’s “unfinished business.” I’m not sure which switch I hit, but I prefer the nice guy from the hospital this morning over this version.
“Guess I got my goodbye.” I turn my back on him and start walking toward the elevators.
The sound of shoes echoing off the floors reaches me just before he does. “I have a favor to ask.”
“And there it is . . .” I knew he was too good to be true.
“There is what?”
“No one does anything out of the kindness of their heart.” He’s like every other guy out there.
I roll my eyes. Here we go . . . “What’s the favor?
” I ask too short to hide my annoyance. Left in suspense, I look away from him and cross my arms over my chest. I finally turn back to him with a cocked eyebrow. “Well?”
“I’ve upset you.”
“Nothing ever comes without strings attached.” It’s interesting that this is my natural response. Was I a cynic or someone who understood the way the world works?
“There are no strings. You can refuse the favor, and you’ll owe me nothing in return.” Taking a step back, he says, “You know what? I was out of line for even thinking this was appropriate. Best of luck, Tuesday.”
Loch leaves me stunned when he walks away so fast that I don’t have a chance to say anything. He pushes through the door to the outside. This goodbye feels final.
I hate it.
I might hate myself more for letting it happen, so I rush to the door and land on the sidewalk just as he climbs into the back of the SUV. Why do I now feel like I owe him an apology? “Loch? Wait.”
He looks at me before the momentum of the door forces it closed. The window rolls down, and he doesn’t give me the courtesy of saying a word.
With nothing to lose, I ask, “What’s the favor?”
A victorious smirk slides into place, and I already regret asking. The man knows how to own every inch of his body and sports it confidently by resting his elbow on the door. “The hotel will close the bill, but they won’t know the ending to the story.”
“Is that what I am to you, Loch Westcott? A cliffhanger in your book? Unfinished business.” At least he has the inclination to look a little ashamed when he looks down, and I spy the minutest of headshakes.
His eyes find mine, and he says, “I shouldn’t have said that. My apologies.”
I have a feeling he isn’t one to make apologies, so I take it for what it’s worth. “Okay.” With everything going on in my life, finding him attractive isn’t at the top of my to-dos. Good or bad, I do. “But what are you asking?”
“Let me know what happens.”
I stand there steady on my feet for the first time since I got out of that hospital bed this morning and nod. He’s given me a lot. This is the least I can do for him. “I will.”
I step back from the curb, ready for that hot bath upstairs. “Take care.”
“You too, Ms. Westcott.”
My brow rises as I stare at this stupidly handsome and moody man. “Why do I suddenly feel like I just sold my soul to the devil?”
“Maybe you did.”
He smirks.
I roll my eyes, then turn around before he can see me smile.
The doorman opens it wide, but before I step through, I hear, “Hey, Tuesday?”
I give in and turn back. “Yes?” My voice lilts in hope. Hope for what? Ugh. Damn him.
“It suits you.”
Angling back, I cross my arms over my chest again, knowing he can’t be talking about the hospital gown. “What suits me?”
“The name.”
“Tuesday?” I shrug. “It will have to do.”
He chuckles lightly. I hate that I enjoy the sound of his laughter. “Westcott.” He winks and then rolls up the window, and the SUV pulls away from the hotel, giving him the last word.
Do I feel cheated out of a comeback or flattered by the compliment?
With him? Both.
The nurse told me to be careful and to trust my instincts, but with Loch, he left me more uncertain than I was at the shelter. Do I think he intends to harm me? No. There’s still a strong possibility of getting hurt anyway.
I shouldn’t rely on him because I’m taking the risk of losing more than I’ve already lost by placing my trust in the one person who’s helped me the most.
Loch Westcott.