When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(49)

“Ma’am.” A gentle British voice breaks me from my trance. “Are you meeting someone here, or are you just hovering on the stairs to soak up some of these fine peoples’ wealth?” His smile is friendly but leery.

This stout man is the one who holds the golden door for guests in their lavish attire, and here I am, looking like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

I’m the unwelcome hooker.

“I better not,” I whisper and twirl on my toes to walk away. He came all this way. Everything’s going to be okay.

The doorman clears his throat. “Ma’am, you wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Conrad?”

I glance over my shoulder. “I am.” A large lump forms in my throat. “How do you know who I am?”

“There can’t be too many beautiful brunettes with dancer legs walking around New York City.” He winks as if he hadn’t described almost every female within a fifteen-mile radius. His eyes fall to my bare legs with unasked questions about my attire. “He described you to the smallest of details, much like an artist would be to the blind. I could point you out any day by the way he painted your picture for me.”

Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and I brush them away with the back of my hand. “He did?” A shiver runs through my body from the cold wind sweeping through the New York streets, or maybe from learning Graham’s been speaking of me in such high regard. One small comment from a stranger, and I’m ready to throw away all my insecurities.

“He was right. You are quite enchanting, Ms. Conrad.” He extends his arm, nodding to the hotel. “I’ll walk you up.”

I wrap my arm through his, and he places a comforting hand over mine. He reminds me of everyone’s grandfather. Perfectly sweet with a little bite.

“How well do you know him?” My curiosity gets the best of me. “You act as if you know him well.”

“He’s been coming here his whole life.” He smiles at me. “I’m Bradley, by the way. When Graham was a little tyke, he would run through the halls, disrupting the other guests by knocking on doors and the usual havoc a young boy can come up with. His father whooped him good once. If I didn’t love this job so much, I would have killed that man right in this lobby. Bastard got what he deserved.” The last part is a near whisper, and I murmur my agreement. “Anyway, he’s been coming here more so the past year, whenever he gets the chance, but that’s something you’ll need to ask him about.”

My mouth springs open to ask the million questions his vague statement brings to mind, but I think better of it. “It’s nice to meet you, Bradley,” I say in a soft voice as I take in my surroundings.

The Plaza is featured in so many of my favorite movies, and of course, I’ve walked past plenty of times, but nothing compares to standing within these walls. The tall ceilings and spectacular décor are something to be seen in person. No screen does this place justice.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” Bradley asks, drawing me back. He points out the architectural differences from this hotel and many others within the city. “Founded in 1907, The Plaza has housed important people throughout history. It’s almost as if they leave behind a little bit of their magic when they checkout.”

“These walls bleed with stories,” I whisper.

“You’re a romantic, Ms. Conrad.” He nods in approval.

“It’s magical.” The beautiful floral displays are unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

As if it’s his first time, Bradley surveys our surroundings. “Wait ‘til you’re here at Christmas time. There’s nothing in the world like it.” His eyes shine with pride as he leads me onto the elevator and presses the number nine.

When the doors open on Graham’s floor, Bradley gestures for me to exit first and holds the door. “Here we go, Ms. Conrad.”

“Please, call me Kennedy.”

“Why would I do such a thing?” Bradley’s eye perks up in mischief. “Unless I can assume I’ll be seeing you again, I’d be more comfortable with Ms. Conrad.”

“I know what you did there, Bradley.”

This old man doesn’t know the first thing about my relationship with Graham, but he looks at me as if he holds all the secrets to our happiness.

“Third door on the right, Ms. Conrad.”

“Leaving so soon?” My eyelashes flutter.

“I think it's best you go on your own. Don’t forget to ask Graham about his stays here.” A devilish grin forms on his lips.

“You really do know him.”

I love how Graham has somehow swayed this sweet man into adoring him. It shows in Bradley’s eyes when he speaks of him. He doesn’t try to hide it, which only reveals his honest spirit.

“We’ve exchanged our fair share of stories of love and war.” He shrugs. “Graham’s young, and he’s dumb, much like we all were at some point.”

“Not much of a recommendation for your kind.”

I salute goodbye with two fingers and walk slow, counting the doors. When I reach Graham’s, I freeze. My hand shakes. I lift it to knock but drop it to my side. This dumbass routine continues for several rounds.

Don’t be stupid.

As my clenched fist raps on the door, I abruptly step back when the door swings open.