Chapter 14 - The Lobby Lights Stayed On Too Late
The lobby was empty except for the night clerk and the low hum from the chandeliers. It was just past eleven. My shoes made too much noise on the marble, so I slowed down. Olivia sat on the edge of one of the lobby chairs, her purse in her lap, her coat folded over her arm. She hadn't changed out of the gown. The sequins caught the light every time she breathed.
She stood when she saw me. "You didn't sign," she said.
I shook my head. "Not yet."
The clerk looked away, pretending to check something behind the desk. I motioned toward the hallway that led to the private elevators. "Walk with me a minute."
We walked past the restaurant doors. They were closed now, chairs up, lights dimmed to a single sconce. I could smell coffee and lemon polish. Olivia kept pace beside me, her heels clicking softer on the carpet runner.
"You waited down here all this time?" I asked.
"I didn't know where else to go," she said. "The suite they gave me doesn't feel like mine."
That stopped me more than I wanted it to. I looked at her hands. She was twisting the strap of her purse.
We reached the bend in the hallway where the carpet was thicker and the air was cooler. No cameras there, just a bench and a framed photo of the hotel from the eighties. I stopped. I didn't want to do this in front of an elevator.
"Olivia," I said. I paused and breathed in. "Is love enough now?"
She blinked. "What?"
"On the deck. You said it wasn't enough for you." My voice stayed low. I wasn't trying to hurt her. I just needed to hear it straight. "I'm asking you now. Is it enough now?"
She looked down at the carpet. For a long second she didn't answer. Then she sat down on the bench, set her purse beside her. I stayed standing.
"I cared about you, Ethan," she said. "I did. When you held that ring up, I—" She stopped and pressed her lips together. "I left for security. Not because I didn't care. Because I was afraid. My mom worked two jobs. I told myself I wouldn't live like that."
I nodded. That was honest, and it landed harder than any excuse would have.
"Thank you for saying that," I said.
She looked up at me. "Are you angry?"
"No," I said. "I'm tired of carrying it around without knowing."
We were quiet. Somewhere down the hall a cart rattled. The ice machine kicked on.
Olivia stood again. She stepped closer. "You've built all this. You're about to own— God, a company. I was wrong about you."
I felt the old pull, the one from the deck when I'd wanted to beg her not to walk away. I let it pass through me.
"I won't buy forgiveness, Olivia," I said. "Not with this hotel. Not with dinners. Not with anything I sign upstairs."
Her face changed. Not cold like that night, just hurt in a smaller way. "I'm not asking you to buy me."
"I know," I said. "But I need you to hear it. I spent years thinking if I made something of myself, you'd come back and it would fix that sunset. It won't. If you stay, it has to be different than that."
She swallowed. "And if I can't promise that tonight?"
"Then we don't pretend," I said.
She picked up her purse again, held it with both hands. "Where does that leave us?"
"With the truth," I said. "For once."
I walked her back toward the lobby. The clerk had disappeared. The front doors were locked, the street outside dark except for a streetlight and a parked taxi. Olivia pulled her coat around her shoulders over the gown.
"Goodnight, Ethan," she said.
"Goodnight."
May you like
She headed toward the guest elevators. I watched until the doors closed, then I turned toward the private hall.
My suite was quiet when I got back. The papers were still on the desk where I'd left them. The pen lay across the top page. I didn't pick it up yet. I stood by the window and looked out at the parking lot lights, thinking about string lights and a sedan and a vow I'd made to prove something. Now I had to decide what that something was worth.
