I give her a tiny wave and a half-smile as Brenden says, “Nothing, no worries. Just a minor crisis, but I’m handling it.”
She eyes him skeptically.
“It’s fine,” I jump in to reassure Brenden. “I’ll still stay in the room. It’s only the shower. I can grab one somewhere else for a couple days.”
Rather than looking relieved, though, he flinches, sucking his lip between his teeth. “Yes, but, um. See, the problem is, I may have touched something I shouldn’t have touched while I was foolishly thinking I might be able to fix things, and, uh... now your toilet isn’t working either.”
“How is that even possible?” I say, though I meant to keep that as an inside thought.
Addison chuckles. “Don’t underestimate his abilities to mess things up.”
“Hey!” Brenden exclaims, sounding offended. The look she gives him shuts him up, though.
I try not to laugh at their interaction. The fact that she can talk to her boss like that must mean they’re friends.
“You don’t have another room you can move her to?” Addison asks.
“No.” Brenden shakes his head. Then he stops, his eyes widening as he stares at her. She steps backward, looking worried, but he lunges forward and grabs her arm. “Wait a minute. You have a spare bedroom in your house, don’t you?”
Her mouth drops open.
“Oh, no, I don’t need—” I start to say.
“It would only be for a day or two, and you could cook meals for Riley, so she’d still be getting full-service accommodations,” Brenden goes on, looking strangely excited now about this completely absurd idea.
Addison, on the other hand, looks flabbergasted, and maybe a little annoyed. “You can’t be serious. That’s entirely unprofessional.”
“It’s a bit unorthodox, sure,” Brenden admits. “But this is Mayweather, right? Riley’s from here, so she must understand the quirkiness. Besides, aren’t you two friends now?”
“No,” Addison says, too quickly for my liking. She must catch the hurt look I don’t quite manage to hide, because her expression softens as she turns to me. “I didn’t mean that. I only mean that I’m sure you don’t want to come stay with someone you just met. I wouldn’t mind having you, butyou’re paying to be a guest here, not at some random woman’s house.”
“I’m not going to charge her, of course!” Brenden argues. As ifthat’sthe issue.
Addison ignores him, her eyes still gently focused on me. “You donothave to agree to this just for his sake. It’s his job to figure out a reasonable solution.” She turns back to him, eyes sharpening. “Key word beingreasonable.”
Brenden finally looks sheepish, but my mind is spinning now.
I should say no. Obviously. Because again, the idea is completely absurd. And it’s way too much to ask of Addison, expecting her to host me at her house. But a tiny thrill runs though me at the idea of getting to spend that much more time with her. At getting to know her better. At leaving the simple bubble I’ve made for myself at the inn for a bit.
It's crazy, though. Right? I can stay in Andrew’s studio apartment with him if it’s only for a couple days. We’ll be fine.
I’m about to tell Brenden and Addison as much, but the two of them seem to be locked in some sort of silent conversation. Or argument. Battle of wills? Whatever they’re doing, their facial expressions are wild. I glance at Danny to see that he’s also watching them with fascination from behind the desk.
I can’t exactly tell who won, but then Addison turns to me again. “I do have an extra room, and I’m leaving early today and have tomorrow off. So it wouldn’t be any trouble for me if you wanted to come stay at my place. But please,please, do not feel obligated.”
“Are you sure?” I find myself asking, despite knowing the polite thing to do would be turning down the offer she was seemingly coerced into making.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t feel forced, though, and says, “I’m sure. If you want to.”
Although I know the answer to that, I’m hesitant to voice it. Because doing what I wanted to do is a big part of what landed me here.
But I’m almost thirty, for heaven’s sake. My career started when I was barely an adult, and I’ve spent all these years letting people treat me as if I was still eighteen years old and clueless about the industry and life in general. I’ve let my manager make all the decisions for me, trusting that he knew what was best for my career.
Maybe it’s time I start trusting myself to know what’s best for me.
“Okay,” I say. And everyone looks at me like they can’t believe I agreed to this. But even so, Addison is still smiling at me, so I feel good about my decision.
CHAPTER SEVEN
