I play the part. I nod, wear a fake smile, eat some of the appetizers, and appear to be engrossed in his self-centered storytelling, and pretend to enjoy the wine that’s too sweet—even for me.
When I look at the time, I realize it’s 8:30 p.m. How has this man talked about himself for ninety minutes?
And for the first time today, I feel like I’ve caught a break.
“I had no idea it was this late. I guess time flies when you’re having fun.” He winks at me and I do my best to suppress a laugh. “If your friend is coming in tonight, I’m guessing you’ll be around for a few more days?”
I absolutely don’t want to share my travel itinerary with him. The last thing I need is for him to invite me to do something else when I’m trying to appease him.
“I’m free to meet the day after tomorrow. Does that work for you? I know you’ve got such a busy schedule…” I hate myself for saying it but at this point, this is a game. Royce doesn’t know it, but I’m winning.
After looking through his schedule for the next two days and giving me more details about what’s on his calendar than I could ever care about, he confirms it works for him.
“I sent an invite for 3 p.m. Same place.” He looks around, avoiding eye contact.
“It was lovely catching up,” I lie through my teeth, standing up and gathering my stuff. This is the only time I’m thankful to have my hands full. “I’ve asked the lodge to bill this to my room, as you’re the client.” I move some things around and place asarcastic to me but real to himhand on my chest. I’m playing the gracious host.
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” He stands. I notice that he doesn’t say thank you. Since my hands and arms are full, he puts his hands in his pockets. I’m grateful he’s not expecting a hug or handshake.
I used to think Royce was attractive. Maybe it was the way he seemed collected and put together. Our interactions before were friendly but professional and he appeared to be generally happy.
Is this really the bar? Are we giving points to men for taking care of themselves? All I see now is a man desperate for attention and may be willing to go a little too far to get it.
“It’s our pleasure. See you soon.” My word choice is intentional—no way was thismypleasure. I nod at him in fake appreciation and turn to walk out of the restaurant. If I were to look back, I’d bet he’d be staring at my ass. No way am I confirming that. I do everything in my power not to run to the elevator.
When I go to swipe my room key, the door directly next to mine swings open and I see Vivian. We both squeal and she wraps her hands around me, as I awkwardly hold all my things to my chest. The stress from the meeting doesn’t dissipate entirely but it’s no match for the energy Viv brings.
Tears come to my eyes. I don’t feel the need to hide them. I let my mascara run and my face gets messy. Vivian puts both hands on the sides of my face and kisses me on the lips. We both laugh because this is just how she is.
“It’s so good to see you! I thought your meeting would never end.” She is still holding my face like I’m a chubby-cheeked toddler.
“Ugh, you and me both.” I roll my eyes. The meeting weighs on my shoulders.
“Tell me everything,” she croons as she follows me into my room.
Where do I even start?
“I can’t believe it,” Viv says, her eyes wide and mouth open. “You, Ivy Lawson, are having your very own romp. Wait… a lodge affair!” she screams and lays back on the bed.
We’re back from dinner, in our pajamas, and lounging in Viv’s room. No topic at dinner went untouched, but I intentionally waited to drop the steamy shower details. It needed to be just the two of us. There was no telling what Viv’s reaction would be.
“Who the hell says romp? And it isn’t an affair!” I try to get her to hear me, but her laughs drown me out. “Viv. Come on!” Now I’m laughing.
Having her here, gossiping on the bed with me, is surreal.
“Why do I feel like a proud mom?” She sits back up and lovingly puts her hands on the sides of my face, scrunching my cheeks.
“Stop it.” It’s impossible not to smile when I’m around her. She makesmy heart full, like it could burst—in the good kind of way.
“No. I willnotstop. I’m legit proud of you. This is—”
“Nothing. It’s nothing,” I interrupt. My eyes stare down at my fingers playing with the fabric of my pajamas.
“I’ve known you for a long time… this isn’t nothing. It’ssomething.” She reaches for my hand and holds it.
“He lives here. My home is on the other side of the country—”
“Quit with the logistics and the planning and the micromanaging of every detail. Just stop. Why are you already dismissing whatthisis without even exploring it?”
