“I don’t like their food.” Elias takes another bite before settling back on the couch and crossing his ankle over his leg. “It all tastes stale to me.”
On the corner desk is a watch, stopped at midnight. The metal is heavy, and I slip it on my wrist and clasp it. I turn to Elias and show him how it dangles and slides up to my elbow. He smiles, looking content as I sort through his things. Looking comfortable with me in his bedroom.
“How do you afford to live here?” I ask, setting down the watch before going back to finish my sandwich. “Your parents?”
“Sort of. My mother paid a lot for this room initially. But because of a family tragedy,” he says, “I’m grandfathered in. They can never kick me out. Even if I don’t pay.”
“The fire,” I say, earning a surprised look from him. Before I can explain, he nods.
“Ah, Lourdes spun her tale about the Ruby,” he says. “She likes to embellish. Did she scare you at the fountain? She tries to make it more terrifying each time.”
I take a bite of food, thinking it over. It wasn’t exactly scary. “I thought the story was sad,” I state, looking at Elias. “It’s sickening what happened to those people.”
“And yet life goes on,” he says quietly, drinking the last of his milk like he’s taking a shot of alcohol. “Now what about you, Audrey?” he asks, setting down his glass with a clink. “How did you end up at the Ruby?”
“What about the house rules?”
Elias tosses his head back and laughs. “Wow, you fit in amazingly well here.” When he looks at me again, his dimples flash. “I hate that rule,” he says. “We should break it. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Our secret?” I ask playfully. “Does that mean you’ll tell me your secrets too?”
“If you want.” He pulls the knot on his tie until it loosens, and then yanks it over his head to toss it over the arm of the sofa. Again I’m drawn in by the sight of him, casual yet still elegant.
My pulse races with desire, a little bit of fear. It’s hard to catch my breath, and I walk to the window. There’s a golden glow on the horizon; a new day. A fresh start.
“I came here with my father and brother,” I say. Moisture has collected on the outside of the window, and I trace a heart on the cool glass. “My mother died,” I say quietly. “She died three months ago, and I didn’t know how to handle it, other than badly. I got in trouble and now my dad is sending us to live with our grandmother. This is just a pit stop before my shiny new life starts. A life I don’t even want.”
Elias is quiet long enough for me to turn back to him. His warm eyes have softened, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. He looks right at me—sees me. I wait for him to say he’s sorry, to offer his condolences, but he doesn’t. He seems to know that that’s the last thing I want to hear anymore.
“My turn,” I say after the quiet stretches on. “If your family has the money for you to live at the Ruby on a permanent basis, why aren’t you in college? Or working the family business?”
Elias smiles nostalgically, flashing his dimples. “I went to college for a bit,” he says. “But my family needed me here. The Ruby thrives on tourism, ghost sightings and extravagance, and I’m a connection to the original anniversary tragedy. Attending parties has become my job. Could be worse, I suppose.”
“You can’t do that forever,” I say. “And the good thing with college is that you can always go back. Hell, you can even get a degree online. That’s what my brother plans to do. I mean, what’s the alternative?”
“The Ruby isn’t so bad,” Elias says with a shrug. “Like most things, it’s what you make of it.”
“That’s very glass-half-full of you.” I shoot him a smile and slowly make my way over to where he sits on the couch. We could have met anywhere—a college campus, some coffee shop in Tempe. But I met him here, and this place suits him, fits around him rather than him to it.
“You know,” I say, pausing next to the arm of the sofa. “My ex-boyfriend’s cousin ran a hotel. His name was Marco and he was kind of a tool, but he said the job was great. He got discounts at other hotels, even in Hawaii. Maybe you can take this place over. The staff would probably love if Kenneth was fired.”
“We all would,” Elias says. He grabs a tin box of mints from the coffee table and clicks open the top. After he places one on his tongue, he holds out the box to me. I thank him and put a mint in my mouth and then drop down next to him on the couch.
I bite down on the candy, and a powdery explosion of cinnamon kills off any residual effects of the peanut butter. Elias is staring toward the window now, lost. For a wild moment I consider reaching for him and kissing him. Deep and passionate. But one thought stops me.
“Sooo . . . ,” I say, drawing his attention. “You and Catherine, huh?” I wait to see how he’ll react, but Elias’s expression is perfectly unreadable.