Nalani stretches beside me, rubbing her eyes as she slides out. “Looks nice.”
“You don’t have to come in. Go see your new place.”
“I will when I know you two are all set.” She quirks a brow as if to say, try me.
I adore her.
Inside, the lobby is warm and elegant, full of hushed conversation and the faint scent of citrus polish. The kind of place that makes you feel like you should whisper. I wheel the stroller to the check-in counter while Nalani lingers near the seating area, keeping an eye on Savannah.
The man behind the desk greets me with a professional smile. “Welcome to the Calloway. Checking in?”
“Yes,” I say, smoothing my hair back. “Reservation should be under Dingy.”
He types for a long moment, the faint click of keys, a questioning look at the screen, and then more clicking. Then his expression changes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t see any reservation under that name. Are you sure this is the right location?”
I tense. “Yes. Kyle Dingy. He said he booked it two days ago.”
He shakes his head politely. “I’m not showing anything. And unfortunately, we’re fully booked this evening.”
I force a calm smile. “Could you check under Holloway?”
Another stretch of typing. Another slow shake of his head. “Nothing under that name either.”
Behind me, Nalani has come closer. “Everything okay?”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Apparently, there’s no reservation.”
The clerk looks genuinely apologetic. “We’ve had a few walk-ins tonight due to flight cancellations. I can recommend a few nearby hotels, but most are at capacity.”
“Of course,” I say, though my voice sounds thinner than I intend. “Thank you anyway.”
I turn the stroller away from the counter, pretending to check on Savannah. Her lips are pursed in sleep, oblivious to the mess.
“Here you are,” he says.
I turn and take the paper. “Thank you.”
By the time we reach the doors, the embarrassment hits full force — that sick, familiar burn that comes with realizing you trusted someone who you shouldn’t have.
Outside, the air is cold. I grip the stroller’s handle tighter. “I am so sorry about this,” I say for the fourth time since we left the desk. “I swear he said he booked it.”
“This is not your fault at all. It’s his.” Nalani’s tone is firm. She takes my shaking hand and gives it a squeeze. “You’d be perfectly within your rights to block his ass.”
“I could go back to the airport and try to change my flight,” I say, half to myself. “Maybe go straight to Texas. Avoid the whole disaster.”
“You could,” she says easily. “But now I’m stoked that my first night in my new place will be spent with a sister.”
I look over at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “God, I loved undergrad.” I sigh, glancing down at Savannah’s car seat where she still sleeps, perfectly untouched by the chaos. “But I love you even more.”
Nalani smiles softly, settling back into the car once we climb in. “I just met her, and I love her more than undergrad.”
Her words make me laugh despite myself. It comes out tired and genuine.
She leans her head back, eyes drifting toward the window. The city lights wash over her face in flashes of white and amber.
“You’re quiet,” I say after a moment.
“I am tired,” she admits. “You?”
