The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(136)

“Let me look.” She types again. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She passes my key over. “Have you stayed with us before?”

“Yes.” I smile.

“Great. You’re on the top floor, room two oh nine. Take the stairs at the back of the corridor. The elevator is broken.”

That damn elevator has never worked since I first came here over a year ago.

“Thank you. Do you know if Eddie is working in the bar tonight?” I ask her.

“No idea, sorry,” she replies. “I’ve been too swamped. I haven’t even been out there.”

“Okay, thanks.”

I walk up the corridor and lug my bag up the two flights of stairs as I smile to myself. Can’t complain about the service at backpackers’ hostels, because there is none.

I trudge up the corridor, find my room, and open the door. There’s a double bed and a bedside table and a sink with a mirror over the top of it. It’s clean and neat. I wish there were en suite rooms left. Oh well. It will be fine. “This will do nicely.” I put my bag down and wash my face and put my hair into a high ponytail.

I change into a cool summer dress and make my way downstairs to the bar.

The music is loud, and people are dancing. Party lights are strung over the courtyard, and the place is pumping.

“Hey, baby.” Some guy smiles as he looks me up and down. “Where you going?”

“Hi.” I fake a smile and keep walking as I look for Eddie. Ugh . . . nowhere with you. I push through the crowd, and then I see him. He’s serving a big group of guys, and he glances up. His face lights up, and without missing a beat, he runs out from behind the bar and nearly knocks me off my feet as he grabs me. “Hazen.” He hugs me so tight. “You came back.”

I laugh. “Of course I came back. I’ve been so worried. Why aren’t you answering your phone?” I ask him.

His face falls. “It got stolen.”

“Oh . . . baby.” I can see how disappointed he is. “That’s okay. You’ll get another one soon.” He seems to be giant now. “Have you grown six inches?” I laugh.

“Little bit.”

I hold him at arm’s length as I look him up and down. “Thank god you’re okay.”

He smiles goofily down at me. He’s taller than me now.

“Look how handsome you are.” I smile proudly.

He puts his arm around me, keeping me close. “Are you staying here?”

“Yes. You go back to work, and I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not leaving, are you? Sit at the bar, and I’ll get you a drink,” he says hopefully as he pulls me out a stool at the end of the bar.

“Okay.” I smile as I sink into the seat.

Eddie runs back behind the bar, makes me a drink, and puts it down in front of me. “Thank you.”

“I finish at one,” he tells me.

“I’ll be in bed long before one, bubba.”

He smiles goofily at me.

“What?”

“You called me bubba.”

I swoon at the cuteness of this boy. “Of course I called you bubba. You are a bubba.”

He laughs and goes back to serving. I pick up my drink and take a sip. I glance up and lock eyes with Christopher. He’s sitting at the other end of the bar.

What?

We stare at each other, and he gives me a slow, sexy smile.

My heart somersaults in my chest as if in slow motion. He gets up and walks over to me.

“Grumps.” He smiles softly.

“Hi.”

He leans down and hugs me, and I close my eyes against his big strong shoulder. His aftershave wafts around me.

I miss him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I couldn’t reach Eddie. I was worried. What about you?”

“Same.”

We stare at each other as this beautiful familiarity falls between us. I gesture to the stools. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”

“Okay.” He pulls out his stool, and we both sit down. Nerves dance in my stomach.

Is this truly happening? What are the chances of running into each other on the other side of the world?

“How have you been?” he asks.

“Okay,” I lie. “And you?”

He shrugs. “Been better.”

Oh . . .

My eyes search his, and I just want to hug him and blurt out that I love him and beg him to take me back.

“When did you get here?” I ask.

“A week ago.”

I frown. I thought he was stupidly busy?

“I found out that Eddie is an orphan and lives on the streets,” he says softly.

“What?” I frown.

“He’s all alone, Grumps.”

My face falls as I look over to Eddie smiling happily as he serves someone. “Where are his parents?”

“Never knew his father, and his mother died when he was eight. No surviving relatives. He was in the foster care system but was put with assholes and ran away when he was eleven.”

“Are you serious?”

He nods sadly.

“My god, poor Eddie.”

“He can’t read or write,” he says softly.

My eyes well with tears.