Thank You for Listening(20)
“Oh no,” Sewanee gasped.
“You have a baby?! You slut!”
“I tell you it’s yours.”
“Jaysus no, not yet. Because you see how I react and I’m an utter wanker–sorry, I forgot to mention that–”
“It was implied, it’s always implied.”
“So I go to my penthouse or castle or some shite and drink myself absolutely rat-arsed. And then . . . and then . . .” Nick blinked helplessly at her.
“You have a brother.”
“I have a brother! A billionaire brother! And . . . ?”
“And he knows the truth about the baby.”
“. . . How?”
“Because you work together–”
“At the money factory!”
“And after meeting me he puts two and two together.”
“. . . How?”
“Because.”
“Right. And I finally realize the error of my ways and I come beg your forgiveness.”
“Grovel!”
“I come grovel your forgiveness.”
“And I accept your grovel. Because all my dreams have come true.”
“And we fix everything that was ever wrong with us and we live–”
“Happily. Ever. After,” they finished in unison.
“Grand,” Nick breathed, looking at her in a way that made Sewanee feel like his hands were everywhere on her body at once. She held his gaze. Then he looked down at his shoes. Then at his watch. Then he stuck out his hand. “Alice.”
She took it. “Nick.”
“I leave you as I found you.”
Hardly, Sewanee thought.
Nick stopped a passing cocktail waitress. “Excuse me? Which door do I go out of to get a taxi?”
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
“Airport.”
“Not tonight you’re not.”
“Pardon?”
“Airport’s closed. Can I get you something to drink?”
“What? No, no thank you, what do you mean the airport’s closed?”
“Snow. Can you believe it?”
“Sorry, snow?”
Sewanee stepped over. “Since when does it snow in Las Vegas?”
“Like, never,” the waitress replied. “Last time I was in first grade and we got a snow day. It was awesome.”
Nick and Sewanee both took out their phones.
“The airline sent a text an hour ago.” He looked at his luggage as if it might have more information. “I need to get a room.”
“Ooh, yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” The waitress rested her tray on a cocked hip. “Just heard we’re sold out tonight.”
“What? How?”
“Take a fight night at MGM, Beyoncé in concert, and that book convention thing and the town’s nearly at capacity. Cancel a few hundred flights on top of that?” At Nick’s stricken look, she tapped his forearm. “You want that drink now?”
“No, no thank you.”
“Well, casino’ll be poppin’ all night! Good luck!” She beamed and left.
Sewanee, still looking at her phone, mumbled, “All flights are canceled. In and out. My friend can’t leave LAX.”
Nick raked a hand through his hair. “I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since uni.” He laughed. “Snow?! Really?”
“Okay,” Sewanee muttered, putting away her phone. “I’m about to do something and I don’t want you to take it in any way that could be . . . whatever. I have a room.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is this your turn at the Romance version?” She snorted. “Let me guess. There’s one very small bed.”
“Two, actually. Very large beds. In very large rooms. Very large separate rooms. It’s all very large. Hotel-room-from–Rain Man large.” She impulsively created a bit more space between them. “I’m comfortable offering you a place for the night. But only if you’re comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable. But are you comfortable? You’re awful kind, but are you–”
“The place is so big I could be sleeping in another state. It’s fine. I’m fine. If you’re fine.”
“I’m fine!”
“Then we’re good.” Sewanee straightened. “You’re good?”
“Good.” Nick nodded. “After you.”
He followed Sewanee through the casino and around the bend.
SHE LET NICK enter the suite first. The butler had been by to turn on some lights. Low. Moody. Sexy. Nick took in the expanse of the room before taking in the view. He smirked at her. “This’ll do, I s’pose.”
He ventured deeper into the space, into the living room, his broad back silhouetted against the window. “It’s a bit magical, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she answered as she moved toward him, rounded his right side, and looked out into the neon night. The flashing colors of the city, like gels on theater lights, continuously shifted the tint of their faces. They stood side by side, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the ghosts of their own reflections, the Strip lay sprawled, a white blanket collecting over it. Soft flakes confettied from the sky. It was a sight Sewanee knew she would never forget.