Chapter 7 – Remington #2
Blowing out a breath, I read it over again. It’s not perfect, but hopefully she’ll find this, forgive me, and get in touch. I put the note in the envelope, seal it, and leave it on the nightstand so she can’t miss it.
When I exit the hotel, the first thing I see is my driver and security guard, Antonio, leaned against my car with one ankle casually crossed over the other.
But appearances can be deceiving; Antonio is anything but casual.
He was in a special forces unit back in his home country of Ireland.
With green eyes so sharp they could cut glass, the man misses nothing.
“Nice night, I presume, Mr. Hale?” he asks in his thick brogue. I can barely make out the twitch of his lips behind his dark-brown beard. The man’s facial hair is nothing short of impressive.
“The absolute best,” I reply as I approach. The morning… not so much.
I can’t see his eyes behind his mirrored Ray-Bans, but I know they’re doing a quick assessment of my appearance. Wrinkled clothing. Mussed black hair. Untucked shirt. Very unlike me.
“It appears so.” He pushes from the vehicle and stands to his full height, six foot five like me, though he’s almost twice as broad. “To the hotel, sir?”
“Actually, no,” I say, pointing to the restaurant down the street. “I’m going to have some breakfast first.” One quirked eyebrow is all I get before he nods and opens the back door. “Actually, Antonio, I think I’ll walk.”
His other eyebrow meets the first, but he closes the door with a muffled thunk and sets off on foot beside me. “Your brothers got up to some shenanigans last night,” he informs me.
“Was anyone arrested?” I ask wryly, and that almost got a chuckle from the big guard.
“No, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying.”
“How long have you been waiting in front of the hotel?”
“Since I dropped them off about two. Helix told me where you’d be.”
I shift a glance his way as we walk. In contrast to me, his suit is perfectly pressed and his brown hair is slicked into a neat ponytail. “When do you sleep, Antonio?”
“Sleeping is for pussies, sir.”
“Did you at least get something to eat?”
“Eating is for mortals,” is his easy reply.
We walk another block before I ask, “Antonio, are you Batman?”
That does earn a chuckle from him. “That’s classified information, Mr. Hale.”
When we pass by the plate-glass window of Waffle House, I can see Minnie isn’t inside, and my gut clenches. I had somehow convinced myself she would be sitting at our booth, smiling and waiting for me. Frustration bubbles deep in my core, and all I want to do is find her.
This has to be a misunderstanding. There’s no way she didn’t feel what I was feeling when we were together. I could read it in those pretty hazel eyes.
There’s a war going on inside me. I simultaneously want to go inside and leave. I want to be by myself, but the thought of that also fills me with an indescribable melancholy. So many contradictions it makes my head ache.
Puffing out a sigh, I decide. I told Minnie in the note that I’d be waiting here for her, so that’s what I’m going to do.
“Can I buy you breakfast?” I ask Antonio, tilting my head toward the door.
He lifts his sunglasses and rests them on top of his head, his green eyes boring into me for a long moment before uttering a short, “Aye.”
We enter, and it’s fairly busy today. Antonio looks around. “Been a while since I’ve been to a Waffle House. Last time was in Dallas, and I stabbed a bloke in the kidney in the parking lot.”
I turn my head slowly to look at him. “Why the hell did you stab a man in the kidney?”
He doesn’t even look at me. “The arsehole deserved it.”
Well. Okay then. No further questions, your honor.
When the hostess approaches, I point to the same booth I sat in with Minnie. As we follow her, I can’t help but feel disappointed. Everything with her felt like an adventure last night, but in the light of day, it’s all so… ordinary.
I order the same thing she did last night, pancakes, bacon, and fried eggs, smiling when I remember Minnie talking about scrambled chicken babies.
“Something funny?” Antonio asks from across the table.
After a brief hesitation, I tell him about the chicken babies thing, and he chuckles. “She sounds entertaining.”
“She is,” I agree. “And so damn beautiful she’d make your eyes hurt.”
He takes a sip of his water. “Then why are you having breakfast with my ugly arse instead of this Minnie?”
“You’re not that ugly,” I retort, deflecting, but he simply raises one of those eyebrows again. I swear those damn eyebrows are like professional interrogators, and I end up spilling the entire story, abridging the more personal parts, of course.
The waitress brings our food, and we eat for a minute before I finally break the silence. “I know you probably think I sound crazy. Hell, I think I sound crazy being twisted up over a woman I just met.”
His green eyes lift to mine, and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Not crazy. Instant connections may not be common, but they are definitely real.”
His response surprises me. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“Aye.” Antonio goes back to eating his psycho breakfast, six fried eggs and two slices of ham the size of throw blankets.
“Do you want to elaborate?”
His response is immediate and gruff. “No.”
“Very helpful. Good talk, son,” I reply sarcastically, and he rolls his eyes.
“Fine,” he grunts. “I spent a weekend with a woman years ago. We were very compatible. I’d venture to say I fell in love with her that weekend, but it wouldn’t have worked out long term, so we parted ways.”
“If you felt that strongly, why wouldn’t it have worked out?” I ask, genuinely curious. He simply shrugs, and I add, “Perhaps because you’re too talkative?”
Antonio sighs, keeping his eyes on his plate. “We came from very different walks of life. She’s wealthy, from a fancy society family, and I’m not.” He glances up at me. “Maybe that’s what happened with your Minnie. Maybe she didn’t feel worthy.”
I’m shocked and a little sad that he felt like he wasn’t worthy. “Rich or not, you’re one of the best men I know, Antonio.” He doesn’t speak but gives me a nod of acknowledgment. “And Minnie doesn’t know who I am, remember?”
“She could have recognized you and just not said anything. You know, if she reads the society or business pages.”
As I work on my meal, I think about it. Could that be what I’m missing? If so, I hope she comes to her senses and calls me so I can tell her I give precisely zero shits about what’s in her bank account. All I want is to feel that bone-deep connection again. To at least give us a chance.
Antonio pushes his plate away. “If she hasn’t called in a couple days, I’ll look into it. I know some people.”
“I’m not sure I want to know what that means,” I say wryly.
“Probably not,” he agrees. “When we get in the car, write down everything you can remember, no matter how big or small, while it’s still fresh in your mind.”
Nodding, I check the time on my phone. “Probably need to get to the hotel so I can make sure Phoenix doesn’t try to wear a tuxedo T-shirt instead of his actual tux.”
My driver chuckles. “That sounds like him. Try to put this out of your mind and focus on enjoying the day with your brother.”
After paying, we exit the restaurant and head back up the street to my car. Antonio is correct. Today all my focus needs to be on Phoenix and his wedding.
But the wedding, as it turns out, never happens.