Hotel O

“Sounds like a marvelous hotel to visit someday,” her mom suddenly says.

We all gaze at her with wide eyes. “Please don’t,” Kat says. “You’d probably have a heart attack.”

I try not to snort, I really do.

“She’s right, though,” her father agrees. “Best not at our age.”

“But you’re there too,” her mom says with a high-pitched voice.

“It’s my hotel. I work there. It’s my job,” he says. “But I’m not a guest. I don’t participate in any of the events.”

“I have, and I’m pretty sure it’s not your thing, Mom,” Kat adds. “Trust me.”

Her mom makes a pouty face as she picks up her coffee. “Well, I was looking forward to finally seeing the business … but I guess you’re right.” She takes a sip.

Everything grows quiet again.

“So is everything cool between you guys now?” Kat asks her dad, who looks around as if he’s pretending not to know she’s talking to him.

“It seems so,” he replies after a few seconds.

“So I can keep my job?” I ask tentatively.

“As long as you can do it without too many mistakes,” he says. “Customer happiness is always the number one priority.”

“I’ll give it two-hundred percent, sir,” I reply. “You can count on it.”

“Good,” her dad says resolutely.

Everything goes quiet again, which seems to happen a lot.

I clear my throat. “I hope we can still keep things professional between us, of course,” I say to him. I don’t want things to get anymore awkward than they already are.

“Yes, yes. If it’s what my daughter wants”—he smiles—“then I’m happy for her.”

Kat places a hand on her dad’s arm. “Thanks … I really appreciate you approving of this.”

“But the guests come first, always. Got it?” he says.

“Got it,” I say without a shred of doubt.

“He’ll keep doing his best like he always has,” Kat says, jumping in for me. “Nothing will change.”

“Good,” her dad says, taking the last sip of his coffee before putting the cup down. “Now, where’s the food?”

“Calm down, Fred,” her mother jests. “It’s not like you don’t have enough reserves to last a week or more.”

I rub my lips together to stop myself from laughing.

“What?” Mr. Mayer says, gazing down at his belly. “This isn’t filled with food.” He gazes at her intently. “It’s filled with love and adoration.”

Kat almost dies from laughter while her mother rolls her eyes.

“Really, Fred?” she mumbles while Kat and I can barely keep our shit together. But then her father leans over to kiss her mom on the cheeks, and it brings a warm smile to my face.

“I’m guessing you two have made up then?” Kat asks, winking.

“We have our ups and downs,” her father says, sighing, “but being honest does help.”

“It definitely does,” her mom reiterates. “I finally know where all those missed nights went.”

“I only did it for all this, honey,” he says as he looks around at the room he’s in. “Money doesn’t fall from a tree.”

“Neither does being home during dinner,” she retorts, and they both raise their brows at each other now.

I lean toward Kat. “Tell me we’re not gonna end up like that,” I whisper.

She snorts. “I hope not.”

“It’s all in the communication,” I say, winking at her.

“Oh, and you think we’ve got that covered?” she muses.

I shrug. “Maybe. But I’m not ashamed to admit there’s always room for improvement.”

She narrows her eyes. “On your end or mine?”

After thinking about it for a second, I reply, “No comment.”

“Of course, you’d say that.” She pokes me in the side with her elbow. “Asshole.”

“Aren’t you used to that, with your magazine and all?”

“Oh, your magazine!” her mom suddenly yells. “How’s that going?”

“Good, good.” Kat nods. “I actually have some news.”

Everyone’s hanging on her words now, including me. She never said a word. Not through the phone, or the chat site, or anywhere else.

“I actually wrote a story about my experience with the hotel and how I met Declan,” she says, holding up her hand so no one interrupts. “Don’t worry, I didn’t name any names or companies, so no one knows where or what it actually is.”

“Okay,” her dad says.

“And my boss just approved it to be in a spread.”

“Oh, my God, really?” Her mom quickly gets up to hug her tight. “That’s great news, honey!”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m proud of you,” I say, adding a tiny wink.

Her dad seems a little less pleased. “Will this expose the hotel?”

She shakes her head vehemently. “Nada. I keep my sources a secret. I don’t mention the hotel itself, any staff, or any names of anyone. Everything is with pseudonyms. Oh, and no times or dates or anything like that.”

“Good,” he mutters, mulling it over for a while.

“Are you mad?” she asks. “This story … it means a lot to me.”

Mr. Mayer takes a deep breath. “If you’re sure it won’t result in any media attention, then I’m happy for you.”