Chapter 7
The scent of polished wood greets me as we step through the entrance of the grand lobby. The space is as luxurious as the outside, and exactly the kind of status my parents worship.
We approach the front desk, where a poised and polished receptionist offers a practiced smile.
“Welcome to Rosewood Estate,” she greets, her gaze sliding right past me to linger on Linc.
Annoyed, I slap my credit card onto the smooth marble counter. “Reservation under Harlow Hayes.”
Her gaze tears from Linc, cheeks flushing pink. “Yes, of course.”
She reaches for my card, but before she makes contact, Linc slides his own across the counter.
“Actually, we’ll use this one.”
I snatch it first, shoving it aside. “No.”
He pushes it right back, his smirk infuriating. “Yes.”
“You don’t even know how much it is,” I hiss. “I told you, this was my idea. I’ll pay.”
He leans in, his scent curling around me. “I told you, I don’t want your damn money. Besides”—his voice drops, lazy and cocky—“I’m the boyfriend, remember? That means I pay.”
“Oh, please.” I scoff. “That is so old-school.”
His grin deepens. “Not in my world, baby.”
My heart stutters at the endearment, traitorous and stupid. Before I can recover, the sharp squeal of my name slices through the lobby.
“Harlow!”
I spin around just in time to see Hattie barreling toward me, Finch and my parents in perfect formation behind her.
So much for mental preparation.
My sister sweeps me into a rush of floral perfume, her arms tight like she’ll never let go. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
The sincerity in her voice cuts through the years of silence and betrayal, slipping past the cracks in my armor. For a moment, nothing else matters. Not the past. Not the wounds. Just the unfamiliar comfort of being sisters again.
“Me too,” I whisper, meaning it.
The spell breaks when my mother glides in, flawless as ever, brushing a cool kiss against my cheek. “Harlow, darling.”
My father follows with one to the other side, brisk and perfunctory. “Good to see you.”
Unlike Hattie, warmth has never been their strong suit.
“You too,” I manage, before turning toward Linc. “Mom, Dad—you remember Linc, don’t you?”
My mother’s lips purse. “If I remember correctly, you and your brothers were always dumping frogs into my pond.”
Shit. I’d forgotten about that. Little does she know it was meant to torment me, not her.
“Ah, yes, who could forget the frogs?” His grin tilts, shameless. “But I must say, Mrs. Hayes, I don’t recall you looking more like Harlow’s sister than her mother.”
I stiffen, every muscle locking up tight.
He did not just freaking say that. What part of my parents don’t fall for bullshit did he miss?
I brace for Mom’s icy retort, but to my complete and utter shock, she preens under his gaze, her polished composure softening like melted butter.
“Well,” she says, fluffing her chic bob, “I suppose you’re forgiven.”
My jaw nearly hits the floor.
Linc turns to my father next, hand extended with smooth confidence. “And the legendary Dr. Hayes of Passion Falls Hospital. How are you, sir?”
Dad straightens his belt, clearly flattered. “Well, I’m doing just fine, Linc. Just fine indeed.”
Huh. Looks like Slimer might pull this off after all.
Hattie’s eyes meet mine, her amusement barely contained.
Just when I think I’ve made it through the introductions unscathed, Finch steps forward, arms opening for a hug we both know I don’t want.
My body stiffens, ready to recoil, but Linc is quicker. He steps between us, clasping Finch’s hand in a firm shake.
“Finch, good to see you again.”
Finch’s smile tightens at the block, but he plays along. “Likewise.”
Linc drapes an arm around my shoulders, never giving him the chance to make a move.
Relieved, I lean into his warmth, grateful for the quiet barrier.
“Excuse me, Ms. Hayes?” the receptionist’s voice cuts through the moment, pulling me back to the desk. “It seems I don’t need a credit card after all. Your stay has already been covered. You and Mr. Masters are booked in our romantic luxury suite.”
Romantic luxury suite?
I shake my head, certain I misheard. “Sorry, there must be some mistake. I booked a junior suite.”
Her smile brightens. “You did. But someone upgraded your reservation to one of our finest accommodations, second only to the honeymoon suite.”
Those words lodge in my chest, my pulse stumbling as I try to make sense of them.
“Surprise!” Hattie’s voice bursts behind me.
I whip around, my chest squeezing at the pure excitement on her face. “I got to upgrade one room and picked yours.”
Panic slams into me, hard and fast. “Hattie, no,” I protest, the words rushing out in a breathless tumble. “You don’t have to do that. Really—give it to someone else, or let Mom and Dad have it.”
She waves me off, unbothered. “Mom and Dad have their usual suite. Besides, the junior suites have two beds, silly. This has one—and wait until you see it. Roman-themed. Private. Completely romantic.”
Private.
Romantic.
One bed.
Air deserts my lungs, my throat sandpaper dry as the room tilts beneath me.
I open my mouth to protest again, but Mom sweeps in, pressing a featherlight kiss to my cheek. “No need to make a fuss, dear. Go get settled. The rehearsal dinner starts in an hour, and we can’t have you showing up late.”
Dad follows with a brisk pat to my shoulder. “You remember where the dining hall is?”
I nod, mute, my voice strangled by the knot in my throat.
After one last overjoyed squeeze from Hattie, they drift off, leaving me rooted in place, wrapped in the fog of disbelief.
I glance up at Linc, only to find him smirking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. His lips part, no doubt to unleash some smartass remark…
I slap my hand over his mouth. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”
His chuckle rumbles against my palm, warm and smug.
Yanking my hand back, I face the receptionist, forcing a polite smile. “My sister means well, but this is her big weekend, not mine. Can we just stick with the junior suite I booked and keep this between us?”
Regret flickers across her face. “I’m sorry, but we’re fully booked. There are no other rooms available.”
A groan escapes me as I drop my forehead to the counter, the weight of it all pressing down hard.
That’s when Linc leans in, his voice low and smug. “Don’t worry, Harlow. I share well.”
The warmth of his breath skates along my skin, sparking a shiver I can’t control. Fury ignites at the betrayal of my own body.
Teeth grinding, I snatch the room card from the counter and march away, Linc’s chuckle trailing after me.
It’ll be a miracle if I make it through this weekend without strangling him.