11. fucking odds
fucking odds
MARLEY
Great pretenders.
“Hi, ma’am. Are you checking in with us tonight?”
The question barely registers. I am still too flustered, disappointed, and so damn tired, emotionally more than anything else. My mind replays the past several hours over and over again. Each second sharpens the sting that, yes, everything had been too good to be true.
What the hell?
Had I really allowed myself to be pulled into someone else’s mess again? Othello’s convenient distraction. His plaything to make his ex jealous?
“Um, I’m sorry,” I murmur when I realize I’ve been standing silent and lost in my thoughts.
The man gives me a patient smile. His name tag reads Kenzo.
“Yes, I’m checking in. I’m Marley Jacobs.”
“Awesome! Welcome to Grand Palms Resort, Ms. Jacobs. May I see a photo ID and the credit card on file?”
“Yes.” I hand my cards to Kenzo and push a stray curl from my face, pinching my eyes shut as I try to stop the reel of the day's events from playing in my mind.
Unbelievable.
I can’t believe how fast I’d gotten caught up in Othello’s act and how I didn’t notice said act playing out.
I’ve been here before. This same damn story.
Mistaking attention for intention. Trey all over again.
Was Othello stringing me along for this moment?
And what the hell is wrong with me agreeing to play along?
I’m going to put a stop to this tonight. I won’t be used in his little game.
Kenzo’s hands move rapidly over his keyboard before he glances up at me. “I see you’re here for a week. Was your travel smooth?”
“Yes, it was.”
Smooth with lies.
I try to regain my focus and decide right then and there that Othello doesn’t deserve any more of my energy or space in my mind. I am done with him. So done. Clearly, he still has feelings for Carina. Why else would he have lied to her like that?
I clear my throat, pushing my shoulders back, chin up, and head held higher, but the look on Kenzo’s face gives me pause.
“What is it?”
“Looks like there’s been a delay.”
“A delay?”
“Yes, let me see. Hold on just a second.”
I blow out air, fed up with this day already. I glance over my shoulder. Othello is still standing there with Carina and her friends hanging all over him like he was some kind of prized possession.
I can’t believe that Carina Sterling is his ex and he didn’t even tell me. What else is he hiding?
I turn back to see the flustered look on Kenzo’s face.
“Um, Ms. Jacobs, I apologize, but I can confirm that your room is not available right now.”
Wait. What?!
I’m sure my face says it all because Kenzo looks like he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“Do you mean, like, not available right now, because housekeeping is cleaning the room?”
“No, ma’am,” Kenzo swallows hard. “It looks as if there’s been a last-minute extension on the room you were assigned. Unfortunately, when a guest extends their stay, it can sometimes create a brief overlap.”
A brief overlap?
“I’m looking to see what else I can do. I plan to have this issue resolved as quickly as possible.”
“I don’t understand,” I stammer. “Can people do that? Extend their stay? My travel agent booked this months ago.”
As if to answer my question, the concierge from earlier returns to the desk with my luggage in tow. He leans toward Kenzo and quietly explains that my room is unavailable, so he couldn’t leave my suitcases.
Kenzo turns back to me and dips his head apologetically. “I understand, and I’m so sorry, Ms. Jacobs.”
My mouth falls open in disbelief.
Cause what in the actual hell?
“Okay, so what happens now? Do you have another room?”
I realize my voice has gone up one or two octaves, and I could quite possibly be causing a scene. I can’t unravel here. I won’t. I try to calm myself, letting out a long exhale, but my nerves remain rattled.
A woman wearing a manager badge notices my frustration and approaches with curious eyes, just as Othello steps up behind me.
“Hey,” he calls softly.
I stiffen.
The heat of his body against my back toys with my emotions, and I hate it.
I don’t answer him. I can’t without breaking down. The day is slowly but surely turning into the day from hell.
“Hi, I’m Sabrina. The manager. What seems to be the problem?”
The woman stands beside Kenzo in a perfectly pressed navy blue pantsuit. Her face is etched with sincere concern. Kenzo answers before I do, showing Sabrina the computer and pointing to whatever is causing the brief overlap.
“This is Marley Jacobs. There’s a hold due to an extended stay with guests in the room she had reserved.”
“I see,” Sabrina says, her lips twisting in frustration. Her eyes shift from side to side as she studies the screen.
“How long is the delay?” Othello asks.
“Right now, it looks as if they have the room until Wednesday. But I am looking to see if we have another room available,” Sabrina instructs, taking over as Kenzo stands to the side.
The fact that Othello is still standing behind me, practically breathing down my neck, is giving me a major fever.
I feel the heat of frustration pulsing through every nerve.
I keep my eyes on Sabrina as her brows furrow, eyes focused, while I clinch the strap of my weekender bag as if it’s the only thing holding me together.
I mumble a silent prayer under my breath that only I can hear, but I can smell Othello and feel his presence. I’m suffocating in it. I need space. I need him far away from me. Out of my sight. Out of my mind.
“You don’t have to stay,” I tell him.
“I’m not leaving until they have a room for you.”
I suck my teeth.
“Are the two of you rooming together?” Sabrina probes, looking up from the screen.
“No,” we say at the same time. We look at each other. Our eyes connect, and I am putty again. Complete putty. Why is he so strikingly handsome?
Sabrina’s eyes dart between the two of us. Probably sensing the tension between him and me. Me, straining to keep my composure because I’m pissed off to the highest level of pisstivity and Othello…looking as if he’s in mourning and he lost his best friend.
Sabrina apologizes and then glances back at the screen. Her face drops, and the sigh spilling from her mouth does not give me hope.
“Unfortunately…” she starts. And it is at that moment that I almost let out a blood-curdling scream.
Unfortunately. Unfortunately?! If I hear that one more time!
“…at the moment, we don’t have any other rooms available on the property.”
My stomach drops. “None? Nothing?”
“We’re completely booked due to a wedding event,” she explains gently. “However, we can arrange a luxury suite for you at our sister resort, The Wailani, nearby, and have transportation ready within the hour.”
I close my eyes briefly, exhaustion washing over me. The last thing I want is to relocate. And what is this sister resort? What are the ratings? Would they meet my standards?
Before I can respond, Othello speaks up.
“Can you check my room? It should be under the Sterling wedding block. Othello Kingston.”
Sabrina nods eagerly, looking painfully upset about this horrible dilemma. “Of course.” She types quickly, scanning the screen. “Yes, Mr. Kingston. Your suite is confirmed and ready.”
I roll my eyes so hard I have to blink them back into place. Of course, his room would be ready.
What were the fucking odds?
I can feel Othello’s brown eyes staring at me, my cheeks burning like a hot furnace. I already know what he’s going to say before he says it, and I shake my head violently.
“How far is the drive to Wailani?” I ask Sabrina.
Her mouth falls open to speak, but Othello cuts her off.
“Marley, please,” he begs. “Let me make it up to you.”
“How?” I snap, so appalled I can hardly stand it. “By staying in a room with you?”
“Yes. It’s a start,” he answers. “You can stay with me. It’s a one-bedroom suite, but I can sleep on the couch.”
“Absolutely not.” I shake my head violently, and I almost tip over on the floor.
I’m too inebriated for this right now.
“They may have another room available tomorrow, right?” Othello looks at Sabrina. “And her accommodations will be free of charge?” His voice is slightly stern.
Sabrina responds with a nod.
“We wouldn’t have it any other way, Mr. Kingston. We are so sorry about this. I’ve already dropped the charges for her stay, so her card will not be charged, and tomorrow if one of our Queen Suites becomes available, we will have it on hold for you, Ms. Jacobs.”
“I appreciate that,” I deadpan. But I’m already pulling out my cellphone, looking up the Wailani Resort on my phone. It’s a three-star hotel and a one-hour and 45-minute drive from here. I don’t even think my energy level can endure something like this right now. My body and mind are run-down.
“Marley, please,” Othello says, gently pulling my phone from my hand and sliding it back into my bag. Then, to Sabrina, he says, “Can you have her things, extra pillows and blankets sent up to my suite?”
I exhale slowly, every instinct screaming for independence, yet my body protests with exhaustion.
“Fine,” I murmur.
The fucking odds of today are going to pay for this because this isn’t how I imagined my first night in Maui going.
Not at all.