Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sunny
I wake up to the feel of warm sheets and the smell of him. Cedar, leather, and something else I can’t quite place. The scent of a good mystery novel I want to dive into.
But then I remember: I can’t avoid the mystery anymore. There’s a plot twist I’ve been putting off, and it’s got my name written all over it.
I roll over, half-expecting Ryder to be still sleeping soundly next to me, but his side of the bed is empty. I hear the soft thrum of the shower running, and a part of me feels grateful for the moment of peace before it all comes crashing in.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
I blink at the ceiling, trying to get my brain to catch up. The doctor’s words keep running through my brain, as do the two little blobs on the screen. But I don’t think I’ve really processed it yet.
Not with everything else going on.
And now I’m about to tell the man I’ve barely known for a few weeks that we’re about to become parents.
Ugh, how the hell is this going to go?
I drag my fingers through my hair, sitting up on the edge of the bed. The cold air hits me like a slap, and my stomach drops. It’s now or never.
Ryder’s still in the shower, and I’m sitting here trying to convince myself that I’m a grownup who can handle this.
Ha. Yeah, right.
I grab the robe off the bedpost, wrap it around myself, and take a deep breath. The reality of it all hits me harder than I expect, and I suddenly wish I could crawl under the covers and pretend it’s not happening.
But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to take charge. I’m going to tell Ryder. Now.
But of course, the universe decides it’s not quite ready for me to have a serious conversation. His phone is shrilly ringing.
“Hello?” I hear Ryder answering the call as he exits the bathroom. “Yes, that’s me.”
Oof, he looks serious. What the hell is going on now?
“Yes, I’m aware of the situation,” he snaps to the muffled voice on the other end of the call. “And actually, I…”
The conversation continues from the other end, and I can’t make out everything, but it’s clear it’s not going well.
I sit frozen, feeling an uncomfortable lump forming in my throat. I want to wait… wait for the right moment to tell him, but it’s clear from the tension in his voice that whatever he’s dealing with, it’s urgent.
And I can’t blame him for prioritizing business right now, not when the hotel is sinking faster than I can throw on a pair of Christmas socks.
“Are you serious?” he asks as he steps toward the door, his attention still completely consumed by the conversation.
He’s leaving the room, his lips moving in a quiet snarl as he listens to whatever they’re saying on the other end. I can barely make out the words, but the frustration in his tone is unmistakable.
He opens the door, the cool morning air rushing in with him, and then he steps out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The sound of silence in the room is deafening.
I sit there for a moment, dumbfounded.
What now? What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Maybe it’s for the best. Perhaps I can just put this on pause for now.
It’s not like there’s going to be a perfect moment to tell him I’m pregnant. Not when we’re both on the edge of drowning in mystery and deception.
I drag myself up, forcing my legs to move. I tell myself I need to do something, anything, to take my mind off the insanity in my chest.
The world is spinning in too many directions, but if I focus on something, I can slow it down, at least for a few minutes.
So, I put on some decent clothes. Well, decent enough. A red cardigan over a simple white blouse, jeans, and flats. I
It’s nothing spectacular, but it’s enough to get me out the door without my brain exploding into a pile of mush.
I make my way to Marjorie’s room, trying to shake off the nausea that keeps threatening to rise. I can’t focus on that right now. I have to focus on the gala.
“Ooh, Sunny.” Marjorie slips out of her room as if she sensed me coming. “I was just coming to find you. We need to do gala prep, right?”
“We do.”
That’s my project, and I genuinely do want to muster up my usual excitement for it. But I have to admit, I’m struggling to find it right now.
What the hell just happened with Ryder? It was so… weird.
“It’s okay,” Marjorie laughs. “We might have to pull off some miracle work, but between us, I think we can do it.”
I smile at her, but it feels a little strained. “Yeah. Miracle work. That’s our specialty, right?”
Marjorie raises an eyebrow, her usual mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “We are two of the most resourceful women I know. Between your chaotic genius and my ability to pull glitter out of thin air, we can do anything.”
She winks, and I can’t help but chuckle, though it feels more out of habit than anything else.
We make our way to the ballroom, and the moment I step through the doors, the hotel’s impending future bears down on me.
The space is grand, impressive, but the years of wear and tear are still painfully visible.
The walls, once painted in luxurious shades of cream and gold, have started to peel in places. The chandeliers, though still beautiful, are flickering and in desperate need of a polish. And the wooden floors? Scuffed, worn down by years of foot traffic.
I don’t think Evie was able to use this space in a very long time. Not for anything but storage.
We’ve cleared it out, though, and it’s starting to look like a room again. Sort of.
I try not to let it get to me. There’s no time for that. We’ve got a gala to pull off, and the clock is ticking.
“Alright, let’s get to work,” I say, trying to muster the energy to dive in. “We need to start getting the decor up.”
Marjorie grins. “Easy peasy. I’ll go and see who’s free to assist.”
She’s already off to rally the troops, and I’m left alone with the towering, crumbling grandeur of the ballroom.
The air feels heavy with memories. I don’t know if it’s the pressure from the event or the looming uncertainty about what happens to the Garland Rose after all of this.
“Okay,” I whisper to myself. “Let’s make this work.”
Marjorie strides back in, her arms full of cloth and twinkle lights. “I brought some navy velvet drapes and white fairy lights. Think they’ll work?”
She isn’t alone.
Behind her stands Dex, looking as cheerful as ever, Nolan, and Charles Hunt, the night manager, holding a stack of chairs in his arms like he’s lifting paperweights.
“Looks like you two are already deep into it,” Dex remarks, setting down the tray of canapés he’s been carrying. “I brought snacks for the troops. Figured they’d need some fuel for all the heavy lifting.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, laced with a bit of relief. “We need all the help we can get. The rooms still got a long way to go before it’s ready. And we only have four days to finish off this miracle.”
Charles gives a small chuckle as he places the chairs down in a neat stack. “We’ve got your back. Whatever you need.”
Marjorie gives him a wink. “If you don’t mind a little sparkle, I have plenty of fairy lights to go around.”
“I’m sure the hotel could use all the sparkle we can give it,” Charles quips, looking around at the worn floors and peeling walls. “Let’s make this place shine like it used to.”
I let out a breath. This job probably should take months, but we’re going to pull it off now.
I hope Aunt Evie is looking down on me proudly. I hope I’m doing everything she wanted me to with this place.