Epilogue
Three months later
Regge practically bounced on his sneakers, waiting for me to get off the phone.
“I’ve got to go, Ma.” I smiled at my boyfriend. Dressed in black slacks, his usual white button-up shirt and burgundy blazer, he looked professional. He’d even purchased new Vans—black ones—and they squeaked on the floor as he paced.
“But you haven’t told me how the course is going? Are you getting all your homework done?” my mother asked.
“I’m not in middle school. It’s a hotel management course. And it’s going well, thank you.”
“I’m so proud of you, kiddo. Of course, I’m always proud, but you’ve worked so hard these past few months. And tell Regge I’m proud of him too. Love to you both.”
“Love you, Ma. Bye.” I ended the call as Regge yanked me up the stairs to Izzy’s garage.
When Derek and friends vacated my place, both of us moved back to the basement apartment.
Bigger than his studio, it was still cramped by the time we fit all of Regge’s books, his reading chair, and Archimedes’s cat tree inside.
“Can I drive?” Regge asked, having just gotten his driving license. I pretended to think hard on the idea before turning the keys over. He got in and drove with the caution of a grandmother hauling precious grandbabies to church.
The front of the hotel had a fresh look, its brickwork replaced and repainted where needed and the entire building power washed.
A new color made the trim work pop. The neon sign on the corner had been repaired and glowed its peachy hue.
The new carpet scent intermingled with furniture polish in the lobby.
The new desk clerk beamed from behind the old counter, her jacket identical to Regge’s with the exception of a name tag and yellow pocket square. Skylar’s smile was slightly feral but nothing too scary. And there was something to be said for having a literal wolf at the door.
Still, my breath caught at the sight of the front desk. I hated to admit it, but I kind of missed Nigel. I hoped wherever he was, he was safe and happy. Julian too, for that matter.
“Hello, Bosses. Welcome to the Fulbright.” Skylar produced a clipboard and a pencil, quickly going down a punch list of items with Regge.
Leaving them behind, I sauntered into the bar. We’d kept the original sconce lighting but had it rewired so it worked consistently now. The carpet had been replaced in here too. There were a few new leather club chairs gathered around low polished wood tables.
“Hello, Lenny. Are we all set?”
The bartender pushed up his turned-up cuffs and straightened his black vest. “We? I’ve been doing all the work here, stacking crates of glasses, cutting up the blasted oranges, and you know how I hate the smell of citrus in the mornings.”
“It’s seven p.m.,” I informed him.
“And I can still smell it.” The barman pulled a glass from one of the shelves and quickly filled it from a beer tap, expertly balancing an orange slice on the rim. Flipping a coaster in front of me, he set the beer on the bar.
“Thanks. The place looks great, Lenny.”
I didn’t think anyone had a better fuck you expression than Cobb, but our barman did. “I suppose it does.”
Abraham came in with his girlfriend, Arial, followed by the scowler himself and Ziggy, whose sunny smile contradicted Cobb’s expression. Lenny served up beer for the guys and specialty cocktails for the ladies. Regge came in, and after welcoming everyone, he slid onto a stool next to me.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Perfect.” He looked over my head to Abraham. “Everyone else should be arriving shortly. Can you gather them here until we get back? I have something to show Hunter.” At Abraham’s nod, he pulled at my arm.
“I haven’t finished my beer.”
“Leave it, we won’t be long.”
We rode up in the creaky elevator that sounded slightly less creaky. “Reg, what are we doing? This is our soft open and everyone will be—”
“I just need you to look at this, just for a bit.”
We exited on the top floor, and he stopped in front of a door to enter a key code. “The code is the last four of your phone number.”
He opened the door and ushered me in with a flourish. Inside was a modest but modern living space with an open-plan kitchen and large windows. A leather couch and love seat formed an L-shape in front of a flat-screen TV. In the far corner, Archimedes slept on an elevated cat bed.
“Wow. Pretty slick.” I whistled. “I know you were working on a project, but I thought it was an art studio or something. So this is… for you?”
“No.” Regge shook his head. “This is our place, if you want it.” He hesitated only a second.
“Please want it. Here.” He took my hand, dragging me down a short hallway.
“Bathroom,” he said, indicating an open door to a small but newly tiled room.
He moved on to a small bedroom with a full bed and dresser.
“This is a guest room for when Marjorie comes to visit.”
At the end of the hall was the master bedroom.
A king-size bed with a sage-green duvet dominated the room, two end tables and matching lamps on either side.
A corner bookcase held only a handful of Regge’s books but lots of framed photographs: the gang at Pinkie’s, Abraham smiling behind the bar, Izzy and Theo.
Another photo of myself and Regge at a party, arms slung around each other.
“You’ve collected quite a family.”
“I have, thanks to you. And I found this.” He pulled out a book and opened it. Inside the hollowed-out pages was the necromancer’s tablet nestled in a velvet cloth.
“Where?”
“Inside one of the walls we tore down. It seems harmless, but I think it has a connection with our energy stone downstairs.” He replaced the book on the shelf and surveyed the room. “I didn’t want to do too much to this room.” He ducked his head slightly. “I figured you’d have ideas.”
“Like my David Bowie poster—that’s vintage, you know. And my gaming consoles and the etched beer glasses.”
His fingers against my lips stopped me.
“Glasses will go in the kitchen, gaming consoles in the living room. Mr. Bowie can be here.” He gestured to a blank wall. “In here is another bathroom. It’s quite small but—”
“Not as small as mine.” I chuckled as I gazed through the door. “It’s nice. No. It’s perfect. So this was what you were doing? Your secret project?”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I love the little apartment at Izzy’s.
It was kind of my first home. I have fond memories of the place.
But I figured we’d be spending the majority of our time here, at least in the beginning, making sure everything runs okay and helping with the guests and residents.
And the drive over here is not the best during the hour of fast stopping and slow driving. ”
“Rush hour?”
“Right. But I didn’t want to live in a hotel room, and there was a little extra money in the budget so—”
“How much did this cost, Regge? We have a loan to pay back. How—”
“Don’t worry. I sat down with Izzy, and we worked out the payments and budget. She taught me to use spreadsheets on the computer.”
“Holy shit, you learned spreadsheets.”
Regge beamed. “It maps out all our expenses and possible income. Izzy says I am a natural at excelling.”
“It’s just Excel, not excelling. You are good with a lot of things, babe.” I grinned at him.
“Please tell Theo that. He always said I was an inattentive student.” He shrugged. “Perhaps I was. So will you come and live here with me? Be the sun to my morning, the moon to my stars, and all that poetic rabble?”
I stepped into his space, circling my arms around him.
“I will happily be your sun and moon, rabble notwithstanding. I can’t imagine not waking up next to you every morning.
” Sinking down on the bed, I patted the space beside me.
Regge gave one of his more genuine smiles before joining me, wrapping me up in his arms.
“I never could have dreamed this. A family, a business of my own, a boyfriend that I can freely be with.”
“You were happy with Charlie.” I cringed inwardly. Why did I do that? When everything was perfect and right and good, why did I always bring up the past? A painful past at that. I batted away my insecurities. Regge had said I was his everything. I believed him. We were happy.
Regge pulled me closer to him. “Dr. Bolton has made me realize that while Charlie was important in my life, helping me recover from trauma, enabling me to explore my sexuality in a safe manner, he might not have been the love of my life, like I’d once thought.
It’s hard to see the love of your life when you don’t love yourself.
Because you don’t think you deserve such a person. ”
“And you do. You deserve it so, so much.”
“I may not quite love myself yet, but I’m more likable than I was. And I did love Charlie, but we were both young. Each in our own ways.”
I rolled to my side, cupping Regge’s jaw in one hand. “You really should love yourself, you know. Because you are a fantastic guy. But until then, and probably after, you’ll have to make do with me loving you.”
Regge grinned. “I love you. But you’re the easy one to love.”
“Even when I leave socks on the floor?”
“Yes.” Regge kissed me.
“Even when I beat you at Fortnite?”
“I came close the last time. But yes, even then.”
He kissed me again, and I forgot what else I was going to say.
“We should really try out this bed,” Regge murmured into my neck. “An actual test of its sturdiness and comfort.”
“It’s our soft opening, Reg. We should be there.”
“They can entertain themselves for a while.”
I squirmed as his lips tickled my neck. His phone rang. He rolled onto his back as he fished it out of his pocket.
“Or maybe not. Hello?”
Abraham’s admonition came over the line in a teasing tone.
“Quit fooling around up there and come greet your guests.”
Regge’s smile lit up his face. “As you wish, dear Abraham. We here at the Fulbright only want to be of service.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “It seems that you are right. We should go down. But… later?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I grinned at him and rolled to a stand. Hand in hand, we walked back through the apartment.
Regge gave Archie a scratch behind his ears. “Watch the place for me. We’ll be back.”
Archie mewled his assent, and we headed for the elevator. As the tiny box made its creaky descent to the lobby, Regge squeezed my hand. “Love you, HB,” he whispered.
The elevator door opened, and we entered the lobby as our friends gathered from the bar area. I looked at Regge and winked, turning to our guests.
“Welcome to the Hotel Fulbright. How may we be of service?”