My jaw grinds. “Of course it fucking concerns me. If my sick mother has shit shehasto do, it concerns me. If your honeymoon is going to be ruined, it concerns me.”
“Just because you’reconcernedby something you’ve overheard doesn’t make it your responsibility,” Kelsey counters. “You rush into every situation like it’s a burning building, but no one here needs or is asking for your help.”
My grandmother raises a brow.See?that brow asks.
If whatever is going on right now ends up making my mother sick, it’llbecomemy responsibility. I’m dying to say it. But Kelsey is alsoright. My grandmother was right. They probably don’t need me to manage everything, to monitor every conversation, to solve every issue. No, they definitely don’t.
For a dizzying, surreal moment, it’s as if I’m floating away. As if a rope was cut and I’ve been set adrift.
Maybe, though, I’ve just been set free.
“I need to go find Easton,” I whisper, my jaw open, my voice hoarse with panic. “I’ve got to stop her from saying yes to Thomas.”
“Easton?” my mother and Kelsey say at the same time.
My grandmother shakes her head. “How the two of you havemissedthat he’s crazy about her and hasalwaysbeen crazy about her is absolutely staggering,” she says before turning to me. “Stop wasting time, boy, and go get her.”
And with that I bolt out the door.
I get downstairs.Thank God I parked on the street instead of the driveway to stay out of everyone’s way. I run to my car and freeze.Where the fuck did they say Thomas was staying?
It wasn’t the Ritz.Fuck.
The Georgian.
I plug the hotel name into the GPS and text Easton on the way.
I’m so sorry about before. Can you call when you see this? It’s important.
Traffic inside the French Quarter is insane and as I get closer, I have half a mind to just ditch the car and run. I finally reach the circular pull-in, and jump out, leaving the keys in the ignition.
“Sir,” says a bellman sternly, “you can’t?—”
“Keys are in the car,” I shout over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute!”
I won’t be, probably. Let him tow me. Let him keep it, for all I care. I just need to stop her from getting back together with Thomas, if I’m not too late already.
There’s a line of people at the front desk—I cut in front of all of them.
“I’m sorry, but this is an emergency,” I tell the clerk and the hotel guest now glaring at me. “I need to reach one of your guests immediately...there’s been an emergency and she isn’t answering her phone.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman says politely. “We can’t give out room numbers of our guests. But I can ask someone to call up there for you.”
I run a hand through my hair. Having them call up only works if Easton and Thomas are in the room and ifEastonanswers the phone. What are the odds, when Thomas is bound to be trying to get her undressed or in the middle of a proposal?
I give her a nod. “Fine.”
“Our manager will be with you in a moment,” she says.
Fuck. How fucking long is that going to take, and what do I do if it doesn’t work?
I briefly consider just knocking on every door, but how many goddamn rooms does a hotel this size have? I guess I’ll try it the manager’s way first.
After a full minute, a bored-looking man saunters up, frowning at me with tired eyes. “You need us to contact a guest?” he asks.
I nod. “It’s an emergency.”
“What sort of emergency?”
