Erik:Well, if he’s not there… then maybe something else is going down…hopefully him.
I exit out of the chat, and uninstall the location app. Giving Erik that kind of knowledge is just asking for it. Don’t get me wrong… I like Erik. He’s a fun guy, but he’s just obsessed with meddling in other people’s business.
Drumming my fingers against the steering wheel, I stare at the glowing entrance of the hotel. Laura specifically told me to stay in the car, and I agreed.
I meant it at the time.
But would it hurt to sit in there?
It’s an upscale place, and I bet it would have a nice little bar in it playing some sports.
I could just… sit in there.
Quietly.
It’s not like I’d be intruding. The most I’d see is a passing glance of Laura, and even then I doubt I’d see anything.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm out of the truck and walking toward the hotel's entrance. The lobby is sleek and modern, with a sign directing guests to “Princess Emma's Royal Birthday Celebration” in the Lakeside Ballroom.
Surely the bar would be close to the ballroom. Tucking my hands in my pockets, I head that way.
When I see the large ballroom doors, I can hear theIced Outtheme tune blasting out and children laughing.
I have no doubts that’s where Laura is right now.
My hands clench in my pockets because all I can think about is how good she looked in that dress, and how much I wanted to kiss the lipstick off her lips.
I shouldn’t. IknowI shouldn’t…but what would be the harm in just a quick glance to see what she’s doing?
I edge toward the ballroom doors, thankful that one side is partially open, and poke my head through. To my disappointment, I can’t see what’s going on because there are too many parents in the way.
My hand is resting on the door, and I contemplate pushing it open and pretending I’m a dad or brother of one of the kids just so I can see her… but I’d rather not get arrested.
A man clears his throat behind me. “Can I help you?”
Shit.
This does not look good.
I force out my TV smile and turn to see a guy in a Carolina Catfish baseball cap watching me with narrowed eyes.
Can’t say I blame him. Judging by the shirt he’s wearing—Princess Emma’s Dad: I didn’t choose the Princess life…It chose me—I’m guessing he’s the birthday girl’s father, and I’m just some weirdo peeping in.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Do you work here?”
“No.” I clear my throat. Maybe I should’ve taken Laura’s advice. Pointing my thumb to the ballroom, I say, “I just came to check on Princess Blanca. She’s my…”
Study partner…
Reluctant passenger…
Fountain fumble…
“Girlfriend.” I inwardly cringe, knowing full well she’s going to kill me for this.
“Your girlfriend?” He raises a brow before pointing at me. “Hold up, do I know you?”
