The muscles in his jaw clenched and she could see him working through his thoughts, and she hoped against hope he’d forgive her, but the taxi honked again, and he shook off the trance.
He walked over to the bedroom door and opened it. “Your cab is waiting.”
She stood in place. “I didn’t lie about falling in love with you.”
He finally looked at her then, his beautiful eyes meeting hers, and regret shackled to her heart.
“I don’t care.” His voice was a whisper but may as well have been a whip for the way it sliced. “Your cab is here. Delaney.”
Chapter 23
“HEARTBREAK HOTEL, SWEETHEART,” THE CAB driver said as they pulled into the driveway. Delaney had the presence of mind to marvel at the perfection of the name. Heartbreak Hotel, indeed. Hers was most certainly broken, shattered into pieces and tossed in a Dumpster. And judging by Grant’s expression back at his aunt’s house, his was frozen solid. He was furious, but worse than that, he was hurt because of what she’d done, and what she had failed to do. Regardless of her reasons, justifiable or not, he had loved her and she’d ruined it.
She paid the driver, climbed out, and went into the hotel lobby. It was more crowded than she’d seen it before. Another flood of revelers to celebrate Elvis and his birthday had arrived, no doubt, although there were no jumpsuits this time. Maybe it was just too early in the day. It wasn’t even noon yet.
“There she is!” someone said, and a flashbulb blew up near her face. Delaney blinked and took a step back. Suddenly the room was full of flashing lights, with microphones and iPhones being waved in her face. And people calling her name. Her real name.
“Delaney! Over here! Tell us why you ran away!”
“Delaney, is it true you’re caught up in a love triangle between a cameraman and a musician?”
“Delaney, how much money have you made from the sale of your video with Boyd Hampton?”
The flashes, and the shouting, and the arms reaching forward made her head spin. She was drowning in the sea of bad press. She tried to turn to go back outside but her way was blocked by a mangy-looking piece of paparazzi.
“Folks, folks, folks! Give a girl some room!” It was Finch’s voice she heard, and then his hand was on her arm and he was pulling her from the crowd. Humphrey was there too, moving in to protect her, blocking people as they tried to follow her toward the elevator, past the Elvis ’69 poster.
“Is that him?” someone called out. “Is that the musician? Or the cameraman?”
She was quaking, inside and out, as Finch punched at the elevator button. More questions were shouted out.
“Are you hoping for a spin-off show of your own?”
“Will there be any new videos?”
Finally the elevator doors slid open, and Finch rushed her inside as Humphrey blocked a reporter from forcing his way on.
“Aw, come on now. Don’t be pushy.” Humphrey’s voice was as mellow as ever, and the doors closed with just the three of them inside: her, Finch, and Humphrey.
Finch brushed her hair back from her face. “You OK, sweetness?”
She looked at him. It sounded as if his voice came from deep underwater. There was rushing in her ears. She was hot and cold and prickly all over with nausea rolling through her. She felt the walls close in, and then everything went black.
Delaney came to with a cold washcloth pressed against her forehead and the smell of Sissy’s overly sweet perfume stirring up another round of nausea. Delaney opened her eyes, and there they all were in a circle around her, Reggie, Humphrey, Finch, Sammy, Sissy, and Clark. She felt like Dorothy after returning from Oz, but Delaney wasn’t in Kansas. She was in the Graceland Suite of the Heartbreak Hotel. She could tell by the lemon-yellow and navy-blue decor. This was a replica of Elvis’s TV room.
“Here she comes,” Finch said. He was next to her, holding the washcloth in place.
Delaney tried to sit up but he pressed a hand against her shoulder. “Hold on there, sweetness. Give yourself a minute. And give me a minute too because you damn near made me wet myself on that elevator. You scared the livin’ bejesus out of me.”
“What happened?” she asked faintly.
“The press swarmed you like a hive of angry bees and you fainted. How are you feeling now?”
“Oh, God. The press.” She glanced up at Reggie. “They called me Delaney. How did they know I was here?” She closed her eyes as dizziness spun her again, and when she opened them, she realized the rest of them must know now too. They must despise her, although she saw nothing but concern on their faces.
Reggie shook his head, his dark eyes peering intently at her face. “I don’t know, but obviously somebody told them.”
“Did you come back alone? I didn’t see Grant in the lobby,” Humphrey added.