"I knew he came from money, but this is..." Callum shakes his head, eyes catching on the ornate chandelier above us. "Incredible."
"Are you excited?" I ask him, and he immediately looks at me and grins.
"I'm excited to spend the weekend with you, all to myself." Callum grins, and I lean over to kiss his broad shoulder. "What about you, baby?"
The sweetly said nickname causes my stomach to swoop fora second, delaying my response. "I'm... a little nervous for the gala," I finally admit, but beam brightly at my next words. "But, I'm excited for tomorrow."
Callum had decided that since we were spending the weekend in Boston, we would go all out. He said he would organize an entire day of things to do and sights to see, and despite my asking if he needed help planning, he promptly shut that down, saying this weekend was his treat and that all I had to do was sit pretty. He had no idea how nice it was just to let someone else take over the planning and organization of something for once.
While my control freak tendencies were rebelling, I told them to be quiet and let my otter work some magic. I had promised myself I would go out, and while I hadn't ventured out from Starling Cove these last two months—I underestimated how much chemo would knock me on my ass—I'm determined to keep the promise to myself and go sightseeing.
When I had written that letter to myself, I had thought that I would do this alone. And I was fine with that, I could be alone—it would suck, but as I've learned, I'm a lot stronger than I thought.
Stronger than Paul thought.
And I'm not alone. I was never alone through this, not for a minute.
Especially not with the man holding my hand.
Callum and I walk up to the front desk to check in with a very sweet, soft-spoken woman named Francesca. She has auburn-colored hair, creamy skin, and deep brown doe eyes. Her smile is shy, but she speaks with confidence as she gathers our information and checks us in swiftly.
She smiles, handing over an envelope with our room keys, "Okay, Miss Bracken, Mr. Rhodes, you will be in the..."
Francesca trails off, her eyes tracking something over my shoulder. She wears a slightly dreamy look. I follow her gaze and do a double-take—Michael's clone is walking across the lobby.
Theo, the twin.
During our dress shopping adventure, Bailey had talked about her future in-laws, and I learned even more about my friend. Bailey's mother was a chemist and had started a makeup company when Bailey was a baby. Her mother was brilliant and had patented long-lasting lipstick formulations that are still used in many brands today. After her mother sold the company and Bailey graduated fromBoston Universitywith a degree in journalism, her family moved to Portugal and now live in a beautiful home off the coast.
She spoke about how the Salvatores had immediately accepted her into their family, which was a comfort when she was missing her mom and dad. She also told me that Michael has a twin, but the brothers couldn't be more different personality-wise.
While Michael decided to become a lawyer, focusing on family law, Theo had dived right into the family business, hoping to one day step into his father's role. Michael was the easy-going, extroverted twin, while Theo was more private, quiet, and very serious.
That's clear to me now. While Michael seems to have a perpetual smile on his face, Theo's brow is furrowed as he speaks harshly to someone on the phone. They were no doubt identical in looks, with the same dark hair, the same-colored eyes, the same height, and the same build. However, Theo wears black-rimmed glasses and is completely clean-shaven, while Michael has a bit more scruff on his jaw. He's dressed in an expensive black suit, his posture straight and a little tense as he stalks across the lobby like he's on a warpath.
"G-Good morning, Mr. Salvatore," Francesca stutters.
"Hold on!" Theo barks into the phone, then mutes the call before glancing up at Francesca. "Good morning, Francesca," his voice is smooth and sounds a lot like Michael's, though his toneis more severe, a little gravelly, as if he's been talking all day. But it's the look in his green eyes that gives him away completely—they are tender and soft as he looks at the blushing girl. "Is there anything that you need?"
"No," she shakes her head, a small smile curving at her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Salvatore."
He nods but grunts, as if he's displeased with something, and then does a double-take when he looks at me. "Sophie, right?"
I blink, "Uh, yes, how did you—"
"Bailey's article," he cuts me off, reaching out and shaking each of our hands. "Welcome to our hotel. We hope you enjoy your stay."
"Thank you for having us," Callum says, squeezing my hand still in his.
Theo narrows his eyes, "Francesca, is theVeronastill available?"
Francesca nods. "Yes, sir."
"Book them," he says immediately. "Our treat."
Francesca's eyes widen, and she smiles brightly, quickly typing on her computer. I realize that he must have given us some kind of upgrade. Bailey had been the one to book the room for us—obviously—our only request was that it have a King-sized bed to accommodate Callum's size.
When she said the room was on her, I protested that she shouldn't have to pay for it for us, but she joked, "Why else would I marry a handsome, sexy, and loving hotel heir if not for free rooms for my friends?"
