14. Charlotte
— ? —
Charlotte
“Guests are helped at the desk, Mr. Lynch. Is there something about your room?”
I didn’t look up from the computer. My hands stayed busy on the keyboard, pulling up a reservation I didn’t need to check, giving myself something to focus on that wasn’t the weight of him standing three feet away.
“I wanted to talk to you about yesterday,” he said.
“There’s nothing to discuss.” I clicked to the next screen. “You requested my assistance for a client meeting. I provided that assistance. Is there anything else?”
He didn’t move. I could feel him watching me, feel the silence stretching between us. A guest approached the desk behind him, a woman with two rolling suitcases, and I looked past Sutton’s shoulder with visible relief.
“I’ll be right with you, ma’am,” I said.
He turned to see the guest, then turned back to me. His jaw was tight.
“We’re not finished,” he said.
“We are for now.” I was already stepping sideways, already moving toward the woman with the suitcases, already putting distance between us. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Lynch.”
I helped the woman check in, smiled, answered her questions about restaurant recommendations and parking validation. The whole time, I felt him standing off to the side, waiting.
When the woman finally wheeled her bags toward the elevator, he stepped back to the counter.
“Charlotte.”
“Sir, I have other guests to attend to.” I gestured at the empty lobby. “They’ll be arriving any moment.”
“The lobby is empty.”
“Temporarily.” I straightened a stack of brochures that didn’t need straightening. “Is there something specific I can help you with regarding your stay?”
He leaned against the counter, close enough that I could smell him. That clean soap scent I remembered from yesterday.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
“I’m working until nine,” I said.
“After nine, then.”
“I have plans after nine.”
“What plans?”
“Personal plans.” I finally looked at him, made myself meet his eyes, made myself hold my expression flat. “The kind that don’t involve guests of the hotel.”
“You’re punishing me,” he said.
“I’m not punishing anyone.” I turned back to the computer. “I’m doing my job. If you need anything related to your room or your stay, I’m happy to assist. Otherwise, I have work to do.”
He stood there for another long moment. I felt the weight of it, felt my pulse ticking in my throat, felt the effort it took to keep my hands steady on the keyboard.
Then he pushed off from the counter and walked away.
I watched him cross the lobby in my peripheral vision.
Two hours later, he was back.
“I brought you something,” he said.
It was a sailing manual, old and weathered, the spine cracked from use.
“My grandfather gave it to me when I was twelve. I thought you might want to look through it.”
“I can’t accept gifts from guests,” I said.
“It’s not a gift.” He set it on the counter between us. “It’s a loan. You can give it back when you’re done.”
“Mr. Lynch.” I pushed the book back toward him. “I appreciate the gesture, but I’m not able to accept personal items from hotel guests. If you’d like to donate it to the library, you can leave it with the concierge.”
His hand closed over the book. His knuckles went white.
“Why are you doing this?” His voice was low, meant only for me. “Yesterday you were in my arms. And now you’re standing here acting like I’m a stranger.”
“Yesterday was a mistake,” I said. “I let my guard down and I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again.”
He stared at me. I stared back. He picked up the book and walked away without another word.
I made it through the rest of my shift on autopilot.
The breakroom was supposed to be my sanctuary. Five minutes between tasks, a cup of coffee, a chance to breathe. I slipped through the door and let it swing shut behind me.
The door opened again before I reached the coffee pot.
I turned around and he was there, filling the doorway, his eyes locked on mine.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.
“I’ve been working.”
“Liar.” He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. “You’ve been running from me all day. Every time I try to talk to you, you shut me down.”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about.” I backed up until my hip hit the counter. “What happened on the boat was a mistake. What happened in your room was a mistake. I keep making mistakes with you, and I need to stop.”
“Those weren’t mistakes.” He moved closer. “Those were the only honest moments we’ve had since I got here. Everything else is the mistake. This wall you keep putting up. This professional bullshit. That’s the mistake.”
“The wall is what’s keeping me alive.” My voice broke, and I hated it. “The wall is what lets me get up every morning and come to work and pretend I’m okay. If I take it down, if I let you in again, I don’t know how to survive it when you leave.”
“I’m not going to leave.”
“You left me alone every time it mattered, the whole time I was your wife. You always leave, Sutton. That’s what you do.”
“I’m different now.”
“You’re not different.” The tears pushed up again, and I couldn’t stop them. “You’re just here. Being present for a few weeks doesn’t undo two years of marriage spent alone. It doesn’t undo the fact that I waited for you and you never came.”
He closed the distance between us. His hands came up to my face, his thumbs brushing the tears from my cheeks, and I should have pushed him away.
But my body had stopped listening.
When he kissed me, I kissed him back. All the distance I had been holding collapsed in a single breath.
“Fuck, baby.” His voice was rough against my mouth. “You respond so well to me.” His mouth moved to my neck, sucking at the spot below my ear, and I heard myself moan.
The door opened.
I heard it before I saw it. The creak of hinges, the rush of air, the sharp intake of breath.
I shoved Sutton back and looked up.
Kiera was standing in the doorway. Her eyes went wide for half a second.
“Shit.” She stepped inside quickly and pulled the door shut behind her, pressing her back against it. “Jesus Christ, Charlotte. Of all the places.”
I scrambled off the counter, my hands flying to my collar, straightening buttons I didn’t remember undoing. My face was burning. My lips were swollen. There was no hiding what she had walked in on.
“It’s not,” I started.
“Don’t.” Kiera held up a hand. “Don’t tell me it’s not what it looks like. I have eyes. I know what I saw.”
Sutton stepped forward. “Kiera, we were just…”
“You were just about to get her fired,” Kiera said, cutting him off. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if that had been Sean? Or one of the housekeeping staff who doesn’t like her? Or literally anyone other than me?”
“Fuck.” The word came out shaky. “Fuck, what was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking,” Kiera said. “Neither of you was thinking. You were doing something else entirely, and you were doing it in a breakroom with a door that doesn’t lock, in the middle of the workday, where anyone could walk in.”
“I know.” I pressed my hands against my face. “I know, I know.”
Fuck. What the fuck was I thinking.
“Kiera… I…” Sutton went on to say something, but I cut him off.
“Are you going to tell anyone?” I asked.
Kiera’s expression softened slightly. “No. Of course not. You’re my friend. I’m not going to throw you under the bus because you made a stupid decision with a hot guy.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“But you need to be more careful.” She looked at Sutton. “Both of you. Whatever this is, whatever you’re doing, you can’t do it here. Not where people can see. Not where it can get back to Sean.”
“Understood,” Sutton said.
“I’m not talking to you,” Kiera said. “I’m talking to her. Because she’s the one who has something to lose. You get to leave at the end of the summer. She has to stay.”
Sutton didn’t respond. I saw him flinch at the words, saw them land somewhere tender.
“I need to get back to the desk,” I said.
“Yeah, you do.” Kiera stepped away from the door. “Fix your hair first. You look like you’ve been doing exactly what you were doing.”
I smoothed my hair with shaking hands. I checked my reflection in the dark screen of the microwave.
“Go,” Kiera said. “I’ll give it five minutes before I come back out.”
I walked past her, past Sutton, out the door. The hallway was empty. I made it back to the desk in ninety seconds, my collar straight, my hands trembling at my sides.
In a small town like this secrets never lasted long. It was only a matter of time before someone else found out.