I grab my keycard and head out the door.
At the elevator I smooth down my hair, since it’s hell-bent on frizzing out and making me look crazy. I’m trying to mat down my part when the doors open. My heart skips. Elias is inside the elevator, resting against the mirrored wall.
“Audrey Casella,” he says, stepping aside to make space directly next to him. “You’re still here.” He darts a look at the floor number and then back at me. “What an unexpected surprise.”
“You’re telling me,” I say, blushing under his attention. “My father’s letting us stay a few more days, and normally I would wait until I could crash your fancy party to bump into you, but I’ve been told I need an invitation. Not at all pretentious.” He chuckles, and I glance sideways at him. “Hey. You lost the suit.”
“I look great without it.”
I laugh, and stare down at the floor—sure that he can tell exactly how thrilled I am to bump into him. My pink toes are neon against the classic colors in the elevator, the grays and reds, and I shift my eyes to Elias’s shoes: soft brown moccasins. He has on khaki shorts, a button-down white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair is tucked behind his ears, although a few strands have fallen forward.
He’s taller than I remember, and as I continue to check him out, I realize he’s smiling and staring straight ahead. I follow his gaze to our reflections in the elevator doors. When I meet Elias’s eyes in the shiny surface, he winks. I smile and look away.
The elevator stops and the bell dings for the lobby.
“Where are you off to now?” Elias motions for me to exit first when the doors slide back. “I’m certainly open to changing my plans.”
I turn toward him, the rectangle in my back pocket making me feel like I’m cheating. On whom, I’m not exactly clear. “I’m, um . . . on my way to mail a postcard to my ex-boyfriend.”
“I’m a little jealous,” Elias says, despite the curve at the corner of his mouth that says otherwise.
“Don’t be. It’s an apology for being a terrible girlfriend.”
“That’s incredibly polite of you,” Elias says with a laugh. We start across the lobby, our steps deliberately slow to draw out our time together. “Can’t say any of my ex-girlfriends would have bothered,” he says. “Your boyfriend . . .” He pauses, waiting for me to supply the name.
“Ryan.”
“Ryan,” he continues, “must be a great guy. Either that or you were truly awful.”
“A bit of both, I think.”
“I hope you never have to be that kind to me.”
We reach the deserted front desk, and I flash Elias an apologetic smile. “Don’t think I’ll be here long enough for us to reach any official status, so you should be safe,” I tell him.
Elias turns, resting his back against the counter so he can look out over the lobby. “I’m not afraid of commitment,” he says.
“I am.”
“Goddamn, you’re interesting.” Elias peeks sideways at me, a wry smile on his lips. “Let me steal you away for a little bit. Give you that tour.”
I’m seriously considering his offer when the door to the back office opens and Kenneth walks out. He smiles brightly, like he’s pleased to find us waiting. Elias glances back but doesn’t acknowledge him. Kenneth doesn’t miss a beat, though.
“Mr. Lange,” he says, nodding to Elias. “Ah, Miss Casella. You’re still here. What can we do for you?”
This is actually way more awkward than I considered. I take a step away from Elias and pull the postcard from my back pocket. “I was looking to mail this?” I say in a hushed voice. I slide the card across the counter, and Kenneth stares down without touching it. When he doesn’t respond, I clear my voice to sound steadier. “I don’t have any stamps,” I say. “I thought maybe—”
“I’ll take care of it right away,” Kenneth says, folding his hands in front of him. He doesn’t go on, he doesn’t check the address. I wait a long moment, but his face is a portrait of pleasantness. I thank him and turn to Elias, widening my eyes to let him know the concierge is being weird.
Elias’s lips hint at a smile, but he straightens them and nods to Kenneth politely before taking my hand to lead me away. When we’re across the lobby, his fingers slide from mine, the sensation sending chills over my skin. We both look back to where Kenneth is standing. He watches us, but then the concierge picks up the postcard and disappears into the back room.
“Okay,” I start, “what is the deal with that guy?”
Elias groans like he has no idea where to begin and really doesn’t care to. “You already told me you wouldn’t be here long enough to send me a very polite rejection,” he says. “So you shouldn’t spend your time guessing the intentions of the concierge. What you should do”—he holds out his hand—“is come with me.”