Billion Dollar Stranger

The flight passes quicker than I anticipate as I get lost in work. My presentation for tomorrow is perfectly polished. The executive at the corporation I’m visiting tomorrow will be impressed. I’m confident enough in myself to know that this is a done deal. All my hard work is starting to pay off.

I catch up with my emails and even begin to think about how I can get ahead for next week. It’s a rare opportunity to focus on work without anyone bothering me on the phone or at my desk.

But even as I feel good about my work, the ache around my heart seems to get bigger.

Work can be a great distraction, but it can never fill the void.

The trouble is, I have no idea what will.2

NICOLEI arrive at the chain hotel, which is positioned just off the freeway. Not exactly the most agreeable position but inside it’s pretty nice. The receptionist glows with all the warmth that service staff exude in America.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I have a booking. Nicole Cristie.”

Brandy taps away at her keyboard, and I scan the reception area. The large floral displays are stunning, as is the polished wood front desk that I’m currently leaning on. I notice the sign for the bar in the far corner and the restaurant too. I’m not staying for long and probably won’t leave the hotel much.

“Ah, I have you in room 265.” She swipes a white plastic card through her machine, slips it into a hotel-branded cardboard sleeve, and slides it across the desk.

“Thank you.”

“Breakfast is served from six am in the restaurant. You should try the pancakes. They are really something.” She smiles broadly with teeth so white she could be featured in a toothpaste commercial.

“I’ll do that,” I say, pocketing my key card.

“Shall I call someone to help with your luggage?”

I shake my head. I only have a small suitcase and a laptop bag.

“Are you here for the conference?” Brandy nods toward a sign set up next to the desk that outlines all the conference talks and rooms for delegates.

I shake my head. “Just for a meeting tomorrow.”

She smiles again, fingering her super straight hair. “Well, good luck with that. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

I follow her directions to the elevators and ride up to the second floor. My room is just far enough away from the elevators to be quiet, but not so far that it’s a chore.

My room is nicer than I’m expecting, with a huge bed and crisp white linen. It’s modern with a classic twist. I unpack my suit, shaking it out and hanging it in the closet. I find my toiletries and place them in the marble-tiled bathroom. I pull out my laptop and work folders, placing them on my nightstand. I figure I’ll read through everything before I go to sleep so that I’m fully prepared for tomorrow.

My phone has been vibrating on and off since I left the airport, but I haven’t checked it. Since Jonathan left me the horrible messages after we broke up, there’s been a nervousness inside me about opening my emails and messages.

I have to bite the bullet, though, in case it’s work-related.

Instead, I find an email from my cousin Jessie.

She’s sent photos from her latest trip. Since she married Ryan, she’s really living her best life. I know there are challenges; his health issues are always a worry to her, but she’s never been happier. I smile at a close-up image of Jessie and Ryan. It’s a selfie, filled with teeth and joy, and I should be spilling with happiness for her, but there’s an edge of jealousy that prickles my skin, and I hate it. Jessie had it really bad. When her first husband died suddenly, she was broken. Her contentment shouldn’t bring out something so ugly in me, but I can’t help the way I feel.

Love is something that can be as dark as it can be bright. It can bring out the worst and the best in us. I just hate the green envy that wells inside me because she has something I want so badly.

I shut down my phone and place it on the table, reminding myself that I’m in town on a business trip to sell software, not to contemplate the mysteries of love and relationships. Then I feel guilty. I should call her for a catch up, seeing as I’m now on the same continent. I wouldn’t want her to find out that I came all the way to America and didn’t call. Not that we are close geographically, but still.

I dial her number and wait while it rings on her end, half hoping she won’t pick up and half hoping she will.

“Nicky,” she says in a rush. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Jessie. I just got your message, and I thought I’d call you. I’m in Atlanta!”