Chapter 31
After dinner, they made their way to the Pfister Hotel.
“Hi. Checking in. One room for Dorothy Clark. And another room for Fletcher Abbott.”
“Dorothy. Ha! That’s such a grandma name.” Fletcher covered his face trying not to laugh.
Being a good sport, she chuckled, too.
“I’m sorry, I only see one room for Mr. Abbott. I don’t have a reservation for Dorothy Clark.”
“There must be some mistake. Can you check under Dot Clark?”
The clerk typed into the computer.
“No, ma’am. There’s no reservation for you. Only one for a one-night stay for Mr. Abbott.”
“Well, can I get another room?”
“I’m afraid we’re fully booked. The state Dem convention is in town. Good luck with that.” He laughed. The desk attendant was definitely not voting blue this year. Dot let the dig at the Dems go as she was more worried about what she’d do about getting a room.
Her heart sank. This was terrible. Where was she supposed to sleep?
Fletcher stepped up.
“Tell you what. Is there a couch in the room?”
“There is. We have you booked in a junior suite, sir, so there’s a small living room separate from the bedroom. But the couch isn’t a pullout. I could see if we have a rollaway mattress for you, if you’d like?”
“No need. I’ll sleep on the couch. Dot, you can have the bed.”
“Oh, no. You can’t sleep on the couch. Maybe I can just find another hotel.”
“It’s late and we have an early start. Please. Just say yes. And then we’ll find an additional room tomorrow. I’ll be a gentleman. I promise.” He held his hands up to show his innocence.
She wasn’t worried about him taking advantage of her, but this felt highly inappropriate. But what choice did she have? Taking a deep breath and sighing it out, she said, “Okay. One night.”
“Very good. Here’s your room key.” The employee slid the card across the desk to Fletcher.
“Could we have two keys, please?” Dot wanted to make sure everything was clear to Fletcher. And to the hotel clerk.
THEY ENTERED THE sixth-floor room and surveyed the small couch. There was no way that a man over six feet tall was going to be comfortable on that overnight.
Seeing her face, Fletcher said, “Don’t worry. My dorm room bed was too short for me, too. I’ve got all sorts of hacks for sleeping. I’ll be fine.”
Dot felt terrible but what could she do. “Okay for me to use the bathroom first?”
“Knock yourself out. And after that, I’ll be super quick and leave you to get your beauty sleep.”
She changed into her pink-and-white-striped hemp pajamas, pulled her hair into a bun with a scrunchie, washed her face, lathered on her serum and moisturizer, and brushed her teeth. She put everything back into her toiletry bag to save room on the small counter.
“All yours,” she said. Then she sat on her bed, cross-legged, pulling her novel out of her bag.
He entered the bedroom, and she noticed he’d changed into men’s joggers and a gray fitted T-shirt.
“Good book?” he asked.
“It’s okay. Everyone is reading it, so I thought I’d find out what the hype was,” she said, closing it to look at the cover. Her face reddened when she realized he’d seen the title: All Fours. “I mean, it’s fine. Not my typical read.”
“Noted,” he said. Then he closed the bathroom door behind him, and she heard him brushing his teeth. He was humming a Morgan Wallen song they’d heard on the radio just before arriving at the hotel. They’d sung along as Fletcher drove through downtown Milwaukee.
After just a few minutes, Fletcher opened the door to go back to his couch.
He stopped and leaned against the doorjamb.
“I like you without any makeup,” he said. “Dot Clark. All-American girl.”
“I was worried you were going to start calling me Dorothy.” She blushed, despite herself.
They looked at each other, the air charged with the possibilities provided by a hotel room in a new city, neither of them having an attachment now.
“So, I . . . I guess I’ll be in there.” He pointed to the TV room. “If you want me . . . I mean, if you need me, for anything.”
“I’ll keep it firmly in mind.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just . . .” He ran his right hand over his hair and pointed to the couch.
“Yep . . . you just . . .”
A silence hung suspended. They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment longer than normal. But neither made the next move.
“Right. Good night, Dot.”
“Good night, Fletcher.”
He gently closed the door behind him.
After the latch clicked, Dot got up from the bed and went to the door.
She leaned her head against it, wondering what would happen if she turned the knob.
On the other side, Fletcher rested his head against the door, too, hoping she would turn the handle and make the first move. Several moments passed.
Ultimately, Dot decided it was more responsible to go to bed. She tried to read but after going over the same paragraph five times, she decided to call it a night. She turned out the light and could hear Fletcher already snoring in the other room.