I should message Isaac, but he’s likely busy with his team preparing for tomorrow’s events, and I decide to let him text first. Grabbing my purse, I make my way down to the lobby, surprised to find the restaurant is nearly empty. As I slide onto a stool at the bar, the bartender stops polishing his glasses and comes over. “Good evening, Governor Harris.”
I recognize him, but can’t quite place where from. He’s younger, maybe twenty-five, with thick, short black hair and tattoos peeking out from his collar. I definitely would’ve remembered meeting him—he’s undeniably attractive. Why on earth would Aubrey not want to come back here, if nothing else, for the slutty little mustache he has going on?
I’ve been staring a bit too long and rush out, “Oh, um, I’m sorry. Have we met?”
“No,” he chuckles, then offers a bright smile. “Not officially. We spoke on the phone a few weeks ago.” I glance down at his name tag—Jamie. For the life of me, I can’t recall talking to a single Jamie in the past month, especially one from the hotel. As if hecan sense my confusion, he explains, “James Wilson. I work for the Prime Minister.”
“James! Hi. Sorry, yes, I remember you. You’re part of the communications team, right?”
He dips his chin. “Yeah, but I also work evenings here.”
His admission reminds me of my college days, where I often worked multiple jobs to pay my rent—my scholarships only covered my tuition and books. I’m worried Isaac isn’t paying his team a livable wage, and James may be stuck in the same situation I was.
“So, what can I get you tonight?”
“I’d love a glass of white wine. Maybe Pinot Grigio? I don’t have a brand preference, so whatever you have open is totally fine. ”
“Of course.”
Despite my request, he pulls a fresh bottle from a lower fridge and a stemless wine glass from the ones he was polishing. He slides the glass over to me, then fills it, and it’s definitely not four-ounces, filling the glass halfway. The stress from the day must be written all over my face to earn the heavy pour.
“Thanks, James. Or should I call you Jamie?” I ask into my glass as I take a drink.
“I prefer Jamie, if that’s all right.”
“Well, Jamie, I hope you don’t mind me asking, why…” I gesture vaguely to the bar.
“I don’t mind at all,” he laughs. "I promise, my job pays well, but I’m hoping to save enough to move to California.”
“Ah, so this is a bribe,” I tease, lifting the wine.
He shakes his head with a bright smile. “Hardly. My father lives there, though I wouldn’t say no if you were to offer me a job. I admire all of the work you’ve done, even before running for Governor.”
“Thank you.” I blush at the praise. “Are you from Ottawa?”
“My mom and I are, but my dad’s in San Francisco.” There’s sadness in his tone, and even though I’m curious, I don’t ask a follow-up question about his parents. Parents divorcing is never easy, no matter how old you are. “Is this your first time here?”
“Not my first time in Canada, but first time in Ottawa. I’ve visited B.C. and Nova Scotia before. I’m hoping once the snow lets up, I’ll be able to explore a little.”
“Sorry, but you won’t have a chance to sightsee while you’re here. Rumor has it, we’ll be snowed-in until the end of the conference.”
My eyes fly wide. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“That the storm won’t be clear until the last day of the conference.”
I check my app, and sure enough, there’s an alert for severe weather. “Shit.”
“Could be worse. You could be the Prime Minister.”
Glancing up, my brows furrow. “Isaac? I mean, Prime Minister Banks?”
“Yeah, the hotel is booked, and he made sure all of his staff, as well as hotel staff, had rooms. I tried to give up my bed, but he insisted he would just stay in the lobby.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re not serious.”
“Go see for yourself.”
Isaac and I are two of the youngest here, so it’s been nice to talk to someone closer to my age. I’d stay longer, but I need to figure out what the hell is going on with Isaac. I make a mental note to return tomorrow night to visit with Jamie. Even with the shitty weather, Isaac shouldn’t be sleeping in a hotel lobby.
