3. Summer
Summer
I mogen stopped by my desk. “Boss, I have a huge favor to ask of you.”
Taking my eyes off the special requests for the Pryce reservation, I glanced up to find my event coordinator huffing.
Smoothing her thick red hair down with a manicured hand, she clutched a bulging folder. “The school just called, and they can’t get a hold of my mom. I guess my brother had been waiting in the office for over twenty minutes.”
Up until six months ago, Imogen’s mother had been the veterinarian at our local Ridgewood Humane Society. But mishaps in the office led to her taking a leave of absence.
“You better get going, then. If you leave now, you’ll beat the ferry traffic on the highway.”
A large smile broke across her freckled face, making her look younger than her twenty-five years.
“Thank you so much! I’ll be back in thirty, maybe even twenty. He’s fourteen, so he should be able to get himself food and all that. I just need to take him back to my parents’.”
“Take your time, Genny. It’s okay.”
With watery eyes, she offered me a smile and sighed in relief. “Oh, and I should be back in time for my prospective wedding tour, but if not, her name is Dakota Lowe. Maybe you could get them a drink while they wait or—”
“I’ll figure something out. Angie should be back from her lunch in ten. I’ll make sure the future bride is taken care of. Now, go before your brother walks home on the side of the highway.”
She left the file with me, which I placed to the side.
My focus now back on the special requests, I pulled out my walkie-talkie to call our housekeeping manager to have chocolate and wine sent up to room 317.
It was a quiet day at the hotel. The historic Sandoval Building, built in 1907, was painstakingly renovated from a general store into forty-seven rooms. With a small speakeasy-style lounge, a smaller gift shop, and the third-floor rooftop garden boasting unobstructed views of Freedom Bay, it’s been popular since its opening.
The owner, Lesa Wu, had hired me straight out of high school to work at the front desk at her Manzanita Inn. After a few years, she gave me more tasks, having me work with the assistant manager for scheduling, then promoted me when the assistant manager quit. By the time she opened Ridgewood Inn, she told me I was the only one she would trust to run the place. It was on her recommendation I was accepted into the Prescott Hotelier internship.
Being behind the desk of a hotel isn’t every little girl’s dream, but I loved it. Its shiny white marble floors, clicking of luggage wheels, the ding of the elevator, and the low chatter of guests. A hotel never really sleeps, and breathing in a part of that was exhilarating.
As a child, my father couldn’t take me on trips, as he, often, worked two jobs. I was lucky if he had time off for day trips.
When I was ten, I joined my good friend Devin at the Freedom Bay Resort for her birthday. While there, we swam in the pool, ran through the halls, and stayed up late on blindingly white sheets, watching reruns of cheesy sitcoms from our parent’s childhood. That’s when I fell in love with hotels. The prepped rooms, the pungent clean scent on the pillowcases. How it could be all yours for the night.
People fell in love and fell apart in hotel rooms. Made love and mourned the loss of it.
Hotels were my refuge.
Until Cory, with my clone on his arm, strolled in, tainting the once-cozy two-hundred-twenty-square-foot lobby.
I cursed the quaint setup.
Faint beeping on the door code rang to the right of me as Angie returned from her lunch break to take over the desk.
Kodi let out a tinkly laugh and swatted at Cory’s arm. She was smaller than I expected, a delicate thing, with bone-thin wrists and what had to be size-five shoes.
I flexed my own size tens and frowned.
Her hair was exactly like mine. It was bizarre. Standing beside one another, they looked more like siblings than a couple.
My jaw tight, I moved to my office to avoid his sight.
No such luck.
Cory stopped, his smile faltering. He wore a blue-and-pink striped button-down tucked into pressed chinos. His hair perfectly gelled into a hard helmet. His brown eyes narrowed suspiciously, as if I were the one intruding on him.
He knew where I worked. What kind of idiot would come in here?
In the corner, Angie was setting her purse down to fish through it. My feet tingled with the need to step to the left and avoid Cory.
My ingrained professional training forced me to pull the corners of my mouth up in what should have been a smile but was more of a grimace.
“Welcome to The Ridgewood Inn. Checking in? Angie here can help you.”
Angie, ducked on the floor with her purse, was still searching for something. What on earth it could be, I had no idea, but heat climbed my neck as I tried not to glare at her.
Kodi bounded up to the desk and set her left hand on the marble. Under the overhead chandelier, her diamond ring cast rainbows around us.
“We’re here to see the wedding planner—um, Ingrid something?”
“Imogen,” I snapped, then recovered with a placating smile. “She is finishing up with other business now, but if you’d like to head to the bar, Neil can take care of you while you wait. Complimentary, of course.”
Kodi shot Cory a look and frowned. “So, she’s not ready for us? That’s not a good look for a prospective client.”
You’re ten minutes early and getting a free drink, lady.
Not that I needed any reason not to like her, but I wanted to think she was some sweet girl being taken advantage of by Cory. But having an attitude about my staff was going to piss me off.
“Free drinks are my favorite drinks,” Cory said with that cocky grin I used to find charming.
“I suppose we have some time,” she huffed, as if it were an imposition. “One drink, but if she’s not here on time, we’re leaving.”
Good riddance.
As they turned away, Cory rested his hand on Kodi’s elbow, steering her.
Seeing the familiar gesture made my stomach roll.
Leaving Angie at the desk, I retreated into my office to message the bar about the comp.
Then I brought up the thread with Autumn.
Summer: I need you to drop the sea cucumber you’re currently nursing back to health and meet me at the apartment at 5. This is a threat-level chartreuse.
In high school, the four of us came up with code for when we needed each other.
Chartreuse: I am emotionally unwell and might throw up.
Vermilion: I’m about to murder someone.
I was the only one who deployed this one.
Khaki: I’m incredibly bored and need company.
Obsidian: the highest level, only to be deployed in a genuine emergency.
We had used this one only once, when Devin’s father passed away two years before.
Autumn didn’t read it, being the only one who left the read receipts on like a sociopath. Probably because she always responds immediately instead of forgetting about the message and panic-texting five hours later OMG, I just saw this —the way normal people did.
While Angie and a guest discussed the best place to get Italian food, I stayed in my office, comparing the cost of paper products until my eyes blurred. Heels kicked off under my desk, I buried my toes in the plush carpet, trying to center myself, as Autumn instructed.
Tense your toes, then release and feel the ground beneath you, then move up—
The soft alternative music filtered from the lobby. My hands in my hair, I dragged my nails over my scalp, pulling strands loose from the low bun. Brown tendrils fell across my face, and I stared at them.
I was a natural blonde—not platinum, more dishwater ash. Two years ago, some lady at a salon recommended I go darker. That it would play up my blue eyes and make my cheekbones “pop.” I had been a faithful servant to 5G-Cinnamon Pecan box dye ever since.
After switching to my texts for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, I tried to send a psychic message to Autumn to call her favorite cousin back. Instead, all I had was her daily group chat affirmation.
Autumn: I am fully in charge of my future. I am the only one who can dictate the outcome.
Rolling my eyes, I set the phone on the desk beside my feminist icon of the day calendar.
Easy for her to say. But then again, she always made things look effortless, even while struggling inside. Her eternal optimism was grating at times, but she was so sincere it was hard to fault her for it.
Unlike me. Since returning, it was as if I had a wet cloak over my shoulders, weighing me down and chilling me. Never letting me forget the mistake I had made and how blind I was to not see through his bullshit. That’s what happens when they look for the positive; they don’t see the flashing lights until they’ve blown through the multiple stop signs, just to be T-boned by a semi.
Okay, maybe that was dramatic. But, seriously, I allowed myself to put blind trust in that boy, and still, a month later, the memory of his engagement photo haunted me. The living, breathing, tinkling laugh was proof in the bar of my hotel.
Maybe a notification in the group text would get Autumn’s attention.
Summer: I wish the rest of you were closer so we could have a drink together. I need some girl time!!!!
Wren: me toooo!!! Adrian and I will be in town this weekend for the fireworks and the parade? We can meet up then? Beers at Sticky Cow? You can meet our dog, Maizie!
Devin: Yes!!! I have to stop by my grandpa’s party for a bit but after that let’s get a burger and ride the Zipper until we puke?
Wren: Just looking at the zipper makes me want to puke.
No response from Autumn.
Scrubbing my face with my hand, I fought the urge to scream in frustration. After the champagne hurling and a slight case of illegal trespassing, I tried to put the incident behind me.
I was doing well at work and went back to trivia nights with my girlfriends—but lost terribly. Every Sunday, I delivered groceries to my father, who cooked dinner for us. I practiced the cable stitch for the baby blanket I had promised my cousin Alec, who was due in November. On the surface, everything in my life was practically the same as before I met Cory.
But deep down, something shifted inside me. At the store the week before, the cute guy behind the deli counter added extra spicy honey turkey to my one-pound package. When he winked at me, my first thought was I bet this piece of shit is married.
When Wren mentioned she was sick with a cold and that her new boyfriend went to see his friends Penny and Tam, I told her they were probably all sleeping together. She had the decency to demand I take it back, which I did, with a chagrined apology.
I couldn’t trust a single man, and worst of all, I couldn’t trust myself.
Was I in love with Cory?
In the dreary, slick streets of London, when I had little to lean on, I thought so. But being back home, with my support system in place, all I could feel was wounded pride. How dare he think I would be okay with him cheating?
“Summer, a guest needs to speak with you,” Angie called from the front.
As I rose, I shoved my feet back into my low heels. Rounding the corner, I smoothed over my crisp white shirt tucked into my black slacks.
I stilled when I saw it wasn’t just any guest.
No, as if I conjured him from my ire alone, Cory was on the other side of the marble barrier, his brown eyes boring into me.
While I wasn’t sure what he would say, the chance that my response would be something unprofessional was likely.
On more than one occasion, he would talk on his phone while ordering a drink at the coffee shop, so he wouldn’t have an issue saying whatever he wanted in front of my employees.
“Mr. Thompson, why don’t I show you our courtyard? The tulips are especially lovely.”
Not giving him a chance to disagree, I stepped out the side door and into the small garden area as he followed. Once it shut behind us, I dropped my professional smile.
Arms crossed over my chest, I glared at him and raised a brow. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“Kodi wanted to check this place out for the wedding.”
“And you agreed?”
“You said you don’t work on Tuesdays.”
I tapped my pinky nail with my thumb. “There is no such thing as a set schedule in hospitality. I work when I need to work, which means I’m always here.”
“Oh.” He kicked the wandering path’s gravel.
“Can you not do that? I’ll have to get our grounds crew to fix it.”
“Sorry.” He looked down, chagrined, then back up with big sad eyes. Eyes that used to work on me but had since made my skin crawl. “How have you been?”
“Busy.” I trained my face to remain passive.
If I had allowed any of the emotions out, I wasn’t sure what I would do. A coiling heat formed in my stomach, my ears getting hot.
I should have sent a code vermilion instead of chartreuse.
“You don’t have to be rude. I was only being friendly.”
Friendly? Why on earth would I be?
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Summer.”
I realized I had spoken aloud. Just as well. There was no reason to hide how I felt.
Digging my nails into my arm through my shirt, I glared at him. “Where’s your fiancée?”
“Her mom called. She’ll be chatting with her for at least ten more minutes.” Cory shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You haven’t responded to my texts.”
“Because I blocked you.”
Boredom dripped from my words as I stared him down.
What were the pressure points you went for in an attack? Groin, solar plexus, nose, and what?
He tsked at me, shaking his head. “You don’t need to be like that.”
Instep. That was the one.
The urge to pull a Gracie Lou Freebush overwhelmed me.
He leaned down closer to me. “Things don’t have to change that much, you know. We had a lot of fun together. We could do that again.” He brushed my hair off my face. A strand wrapped around his pointer finger. “I like your hair like this. The curls never suited you.”
“Don’t touch me.” Slapping his hand away, I leaned back.
He frowned, stuffing his hands in his pressed chinos. “So, you really want to be like that? After everything we had together?”
I snorted. “We had nothing together. We were a mistake.”
Considering me, he cocked his head before shrugging. “I guess all I have left of you are the pictures you sent me.”
My blood ran cold.
A month into my internship in London, he asked for them. I knew the risk but was so sure of Cory I figured where was the harm? After a few pints of Boddington’s at the pub, I had set up my phone against my flatmate’s stack of dragon shifter books and set the timer for three seconds. Stripped for the camera. Showed off my body to a man I thought I could trust.
He had promised me no one would see them.
“You need to delete those. We aren’t together anymore.”
I didn’t like the dread rising in my voice.
“Is that really what you want, Blue?”
Swallowing down the panic, I nodded. “Yes. That’s what I need. Delete them.”
He nodded at me, his lips pursing, as if I had disappointed him. “Fine, I will. But you’re making a mistake, throwing us away like this.”
“I didn’t do a thing.” Through the window, I saw Kodi swing the door open and walk in. “Run back to your fiancée and leave me alone.”
“Think about it. I know you still have my number saved.” He left me alone in the garden, my blood boiling.
The strand of hair he had wrapped around his finger stung as it fell against my cheek, as if radioactive . If I had a knife handy, I would have sawed it off.
Feel the ground beneath you.
I wished the ground could swallow me up.
In my peripheral, Imogen walked in the side entrance, waving at me.
With a steadying breath, I returned inside to Imogen. “Your three o’clock is waiting in the lounge for you.”
I didn’t wait for her response before stalking back to my office.
I closed the door, something I hadn’t done in the month since I had started.
No way was I leaving the safety of my space until six. But I wouldn’t be going home. I needed to stop at the beauty supply store first.
Bleach stings. It singes your nose hairs and burns your scalp. That was the first indicator that maybe trying to go level ten blonde was a bad decision. In my teens, I had dabbled with fun, bright colors. Before my senior year of high school, Devin and I had gone to the salon and got matching pink highlights. This was blue slop, piled high on my head.
Autumn stood behind me, painting the acrid mixture into my hair. Devin was on a video call with us, talking us through the process. Because she was the expert, having constantly changed the wild shades in her hair, I deferred to her.
Every few minutes, Autumn would ask, Are you sure? I’d respond with a wave to get on with it.
Under the plastic cap, my hair was hot on my head, the orange a reflection of my emotions.
On the video call, Devin leaned closer to the screen. “You know, if you would have asked, I could have cleared this whole thing up for you. Took me three minutes once you gave me his full name to find out everything about him.”
“That couldn’t possibly be . . .”
“Cory Otis Thompson, birthday June seventeenth,” she muttered. “Of course he’s a Gemini.”
“What does that—”
“Born in Redmond. Parents Don and Sheila. Mother’s maiden name Maguire. Went to Gonzaga for two years but didn’t graduate, favorite color blue, favorite food . . .”
“Okay, I get it. Stop.” I huffed. “God, you’re scary sometimes.”
“Only when you’re hurt.”
“I’m not hurt. I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”
“Annoyed?” Behind me, Autumn raised a brow. “Should I call the police now or wait until you’ve cut his brakes?”
Pulling the cap off my head, I scraped a chunk of blue bleach off my hair to see how light it was. “I won’t murder the guy.”
Arms crossed against her chest, she frowned. “But you’re not going to leave him alone.”
“He’ll get what he deserves.” I pulled the cap off and unwound my hair.
The roots were lighter than the bottom, but that was okay. A good purple toner would take away the brassiness.
“Nothing illegal. I don’t make enough at the Marine Science Center to bail you out.”
“Me neither,” Devin chimed.
Although that wasn’t the case. Out of all of us, Devin was, by far, the most successful.
I widened my eyes in mock outrage. “I would never.”
“Promise me no laws will be broken. Pinky swear,” Autumn said.
I hooked my pinky with hers, and on the screen, Devin held hers to the camera.
“Fine. No laws will be broken.”
Autumn smiled. “Good, I’m glad you’ll do the right thing.”
Shooing her out of the bathroom with my phone, I gave her a last coy look. “By whose definition? Just because something is legal doesn’t mean it’s right. And I plan on being all sorts of wrong.”
As I shut the door, she grumbled on the other side.
The shower on their morality speech faded. It had been a while since I had put any effort into my own brand of justice.
Cory thought he could use me to cheat and that I’d be okay with it? That he could come into my place of business and proposition me feet away from his fiancée?
It took one month for me to lose my shit again. Truly, was it right to say it was my fault? A woman can only handle so much humiliation before she is forced to act.
I would stay away from Cory, sure. But not before I let him regret that day he sat beside me at the bar.
All my life, I’ve fought the fury inside me. I tried to be calm, tried to be cool. But I was livid.
I’d show them just how villainous I could be.