“Wonderful. One moment.” The man clicks away on his computer while I suppress another yawn. Even in my exhausted state, I can’t help but glance around the upscale lobby in awe. I can only imagine what two rooms in this luxurious hotel cost. “Here we go,” says the concierge, his eyes roaming over the screen. He frowns at whatever he sees there. “I’m sorry, Sir. It’s only showing one room on your reservation.”
“I booked two,” Landon says. He doesn’t quite snap at the man, but he’s definitely not happy.
The concierge clears his throat. “I’m, uh, only seeing one here.”
“Well, does it have two beds, at least?”
“I’m sorry, Sir-”
“Can we just add another room onto the reservation, then?” Landon cuts in.
“I’m sorry, Sir. We don’t have any more rooms available tonight. We’re booked up.”
“How are you fully booked?” he demands. “You don’t haveoneextra room?”
“There are a few conferences in town this weekend, Sir,” the man explains, his tone apologetic. “And a Lady Gaga concert.”
“Ooh, I love her,” I chime in.
“I specifically booked-”
“Landon, it’s fine,” I assure. “I’ll sleep on the floor, I don’t care. I’m just tired.”
The concierge shoots me a grateful look and slides two room keys across the desk. “If you come down tomorrow, we can check the cancellations for tomorrow night.”
Landon looks like he wants to argue further, but exhaustion must win out as well because he decides against it. “Alright,” he says, snatching up the cards. “Let’s go.”
The tension in the air is palpable as we ride the elevator to the fifth floor, and when the doors finally open, we don’t speak. I follow Landon down the hallway to the room, yawning as he scans the key card to unlock the door.
Stepping inside, I see that the room is beautiful and pristine, but that’s not what draws our attention. Nope.
We both stare at the bed in the center of the hotel room becausewow.That thing ismassive.
“Christ,” Landon mutters.
“This bed could fit everyone who drowned in the Titanic,” I say. “It would definitely fit RoseandJack, at least, unlike that bullshit ending.”
“I’ve never seen that movie.”
My mouth drops open. “Landon, that’s one of the most classic films of all time.”
“Cruises make me nauseous,” he says, clearing his throat and setting his suitcase on the table in the corner. He gestures toward the bathroom. “You can go first.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say awkwardly and hurry to grab my toiletries. I speed through my nighttime routine, and when I head back into the room, I find Landon perched on the edge of the bed, watching some news channel on the TV. His dark jeans have been swapped for navy sweatpants, his button-up for a t-shirt, and his feet are bare. I try—and fail—not to think about him undressing out here while I was just on the other side of the door. Clearing my throat, I say, “They have these adorable little soaps in the bathroom. Do you think we can take them when we leave?”
Landon stares at me, and I swear, his lip twitches. “Pretty sure you can pocket those, Violet.”
“Seriously?” He nods. “That’s awesome. I love this hotel.”
“Well, at least one of us is happy with the service,” he mutters, glancing around the room with a frown. He stands, grabs a leather bag embroidered with his initials, and disappears into the bathroom. When I hear his electric toothbrush begin to hum, I start searching the dresser and closet for an extra blanket. I’m still opening drawers when he emerges, pausing in the doorway.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I open the closet door and spot an extra sheet on the top shelf. “Looking for a blanket so I can sleep on the floor.”
“Violet, that’s disgusting,” he says. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”
My eyebrows raise, and I glance back at him. “So, you are, then?”
