He shrugged. “I think we’ve come a long way since then. Not like we don’t still have a ways to go. Took me until the reunion to make my move. I imagine it gets more complicated when you have a history.”
Brynn grabbed his hand and squeezed. “God, you really are the whole package, aren’t you? And I suppose because you are this amazing guy you don’t think I’m a horrible person for the way I behaved at the reunion and for coming here now just to tell you I’m in love with the guy who brought me here. I guess I have a funny way of showing how I feel, too.”
Spencer squeezed her hand back. “No. I don’t think you’re a horrible person. You just finally saw what the rest of us did ten years ago.”
She really wanted to punch Jamie or pull his hair or something, not just because she loved him but because they’d wasted ten years pretending.
“Good night, Brynn,” Spencer said. “It was good to see you.”
“Good night,” she said. “Good luck with the book.”
And that was that. She had traveled over two thousand miles to chase the guy who was sitting next to her the whole time. And now, because he was stubborn and scared and selfless and, well, perfect for her in every way, she had to chase him some more.
As Spencer turned back toward the bar, Brynn pulled out her phone. Jamie let the call go to voicemail. She groaned and tried again. Five rings and still no answer.
“Shit!” she said, not caring about the volume or level of distress in her voice or that she seemed to have no other word to convey anything she felt this evening.
She hurried up to the desk where the hotel attendant had been eyeing her, Jamie, and Spencer through the whole exchange.
She smiled, but it came off as more of a sneer.
“I’m not at liberty to give out other patrons’ room numbers,” the woman said before Brynn could ask. “And based on what I just witnessed, I don’t think that gorgeous, rugged man I sent upstairs wants anything to do with you.”
Gorgeous, rugged man? Not that Brynn was arguing, but that was her gorgeous, rugged man this woman was talking about.
“Please…” She focused on the woman’s name tag. “Victoria, this is an emergency.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirked. “Emergency. Yeah, still not giving you his room number.”
Brynn took a cleansing breath. Kill her with kindness, she thought.
“Look, Victoria. Can we talk, woman to woman? That is my best friend who just walked away from me, thinking the worst about me. But he’s wrong. And I’m in love with him, and if you could just tell me where his room is, I can make everything right. Haven’t you ever been in love?” she asked hopefully. Then she leaned over the counter and whispered, “I know it’s bending the rules, but it’s for a good cause, right?”
Victoria pressed her lips together, glanced at her computer monitor, and then back at Brynn.
“Yes. I’ve been in love before. And would you like to know what that got me?”
Uh-oh, Brynn thought. Abort mission. Abort. Abort! But it was too late.
“It got me double the rent after I found the love of my life in our bed with the cable guy.”
Brynn wrinkled her brows.
“Now you want to ask me if the love of my life was a guy or a girl, right?”
She chewed her bottom lip. “I kinda do,” she said. Maybe she and Victoria were bonding, and this did sound like a great story.
Victoria crossed her arms. “My sexual orientation is none of your business, and the same goes for your friend’s room number. Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?”
Brynn groaned. She wanted to sneer at the woman, give her one of her most practiced disdainful looks, but she didn’t want to risk—what was the equivalent of a waiter spitting in your food?—dirty towels or a bedspread that should never be seen under a black light? Besides, she was just doing her job. What if one of Brynn’s hypothetical muggers not only found her hidden money in her wallet but also followed her back to her hotel to mug her again? Would she want the front desk attendant to divulge her whereabouts? No. Of course not.
But Brynn wasn’t here to mug Jamie. In the past few months she’d already stabbed him and clocked him in the face. This week she’d certainly helped deplete his funds. It was as if she’d been mugging him all along. Maybe that was just her way—like punching the boy you like on the playground at recess. She was here to be with Jamie. To fight for him, even if he had finally lost all his fight.
She considered walking each floor, dialing Jamie’s cell phone, and hoping she could hear his ringtone through the door. But Jamie was a man of simplicity, which meant he always left his phone on vibrate. In a one-room home for the next few days, Brynn knew he couldn’t miss the phone’s ring. But she would. Nope, stalking the floors wouldn’t work.
She tried Jamie’s cell one more time, willed him to pick up, but this time it went to voicemail after one ring. That meant he saw it was her and actively canceled the call. He wasn’t going to make this easy.