“Oh, screw this, come on,” I grab both of our suitcases and gesture to the door.
Somewhere in this city is a hotel room that was not decorated by a Golden Girl and has a mattress that does not inflict pain when a small, 5-foot-something girl lies on it. I will find said hotel, and they will give me a room.
“There are no other rooms, Cole. Let’s just make the best of it.” She reaches off the bed for my hand and pulls me back to her. “We can camp out on the floor.”
I peer down at the parquet floor, mostly covered in rugs that were obviously woven by the original twelve disciples, “Absolutely not.”
“Are you going to crab the whole weekend?”
“I’m not crabbing,” I crab at her.
“You crabbed at everyone on the plane the whole way here, you crabbed at the driver at the airport, now you’re crabbing at me. Is it because of Edmund?”
I take a seat on the mattress, and Emily is not exaggerating—it’s unnatural.
I’d like to lie and tell her I’m in a mood because of Edmund, yes. But that’s only part of it, and the fact is, the secrets I’d like to bury forever aren’t staying hidden anymore.
They’re collateral damage from having Emily back in my life, and I knew I’d have to face the demons if I wanted her. I’m willing to face mine for her.
It’s too bad I’m not the only demon in our lives. Funny thing about demons and devils and monsters under the bed—they
seem to run in crowds and latch onto their victim like poltergeists imprinting upon a house some unsuspecting schmuck moves into.
Emily is that house, and it’s because of me that the spirits won’t lie peacefully.
After we had the last big blowout, there’s one more thing I need to tell her. There’s one more thing she needs to hear from me, and then I’ll have to live with everything else, help her live with them if it comes to it.
I had, minimally, hoped to spring it on her in a lovely Italian villa, a penthouse suite, maybe liquor her up with champagne first.
Instead, I have this, this thousand dollar room that makes Olive Garden seem swanky.
Time for an exorcism.
“Edmund is half of it,” I start.
Edmund is out sick, missing his first race that anyone can remember. I won’t have my engineer on the pit wall, in my ear, for the first time in my professional career.
I’ll get James, a junior engineer who is, by all accounts, a decent person, I’m sure. But it’s not the same, and I don’t know James. I don’t trust James. Every time we get into the cars, we’re putting our faith in the hands of the crew, people like Emily who can see data we cannot see from behind the wheel. We have to trust those people not to kill ourselves, or someone else, pushing the boundaries of speed, and frankly, common sense.
“And the other half?” She asks innocently enough, not knowing this is something I’ve never told another person about, ever.
I run my hands through my hair. “I at least wanted to get us a decent room and take you to dinner and…”
“Butter me up?”
I nod, I admit it.
Not that any amount of money dropped on a hotel or restaurant will change facts, but yeah, butter her up is exactly right. At least point out that I’m not a total derelict, I can support her, take care of her, point out my redeeming value.
If she gave a shit about fancy hotels or restaurants or cars, this might be easier. Then again, I wouldn’t love her like I do if that were the case.
“I don’t know how to say this. Some other people know, but I’ve never told anyone. I understand if it changes how you think or how you feel about me. I should have told you before, but now we’re trying to make things work, and they’re serious and…”
She interrupts my rambling and takes my hand in hers, “What is it? You can tell me anything, you know that.”
Oh, if only I knew that.
Those are just lovely words you hear in movies and read in books. In the real world, you do not get to say anything and be accepted for it. In the real world, there are consequences.