A Cross-Country Christmas(50)

She wasn’t sure, but things seemed brighter. Colors popped more than they had when they’d checked in. The lights weren’t just on, they sparkled.

Her thoughts were interrupted as she reached the doorway of the restaurant and stood by the host stand, looking around the modern space. She scanned the tables—mostly occupied, buzzing conversation, clinking silverware—but didn’t see Will. Maybe this moment would be like that moment in Pretty Woman where Richard Gere saw Julia Roberts in that red dress and couldn’t believe the girl he’d picked up on the street had it in her to look like this.

Wait. Perhaps a different analogy. Comparing herself to a hooker probably wasn’t the most romantic notion.

She saw Will—and the whole notion of romance was knocked right out of her mind.

She spotted him, back to her, sitting at the bar, laughing with a tall blonde wearing a skimpy, low-cut red dress and heels that had to be impossible to walk in.

Lauren was no body language expert, but the way the blonde leaned toward him reminded her a lot of a lioness stalking her prey.

Maybe it’s fine, maybe I’m just misinterpr—

Will said something, and the woman threw her head back in laughter, then let her hand rest on his arm, a lingering touch that even Lauren knew spoke volumes.

The branch she’d tenderly tested her weight on broke underneath her.

She was falling. Again. Falling for him and falling apart. All at once, she was eighteen, a stupid girl with a stupid crush who believed that someone like Will might actually see her as anything more than his best friend’s kid sister.

She’d given him way too much credit.

People don’t change.

Flirts flirt. Players play. Charmers charm.

And girls like Lauren? They get their heart broken because they always seem to try and give it to the wrong people.

“Miss, are you looking for someone?” The host had returned to his station.

She felt like an idiot. She’d gotten dressed up—put on lipstick, for Pete’s sake—and for what? For what??

What was I thinking?

She was thinking she was tired of being alone, of being closed off, of spending all her time on work and never on herself. She was thinking how nice it would be if she had someone to celebrate with. Not just anyone—Will. Because he still made her palms sweat and her pulse race.

“Miss?” the host repeated.

“No.” She backed away, holding up a shaky hand and holding back her tears. “Sorry. I’m not looking for anyone.”

She walked out into the lobby and texted Will.

Sorry, I think I got a migraine.

I’ll have to take a rain check on the ball.





NOOOO

Lauren!

I’m coming up to get you.





Absolutely do not do that.

I’m serious, I don’t feel well.





Can I get you anything?

I can order some soup or something? Does soup help a migraine?





Lauren felt the hot coals of his kindness heaped on her head.

No, thanks.

I just need to sleep it off.

I’ll see you in the morning.

Maybe we can make it home tomorrow?





<eyes wide emoji>

But. . .I got all dressed up.





She didn’t text him back. She didn’t know what to say. After a few minutes, her phone vibrated for the second to last time that night.

We can try to make it home tomorrow.

Sleep well, Lo.

I hope you feel better.

<heart emoji>





Chapter 24





Will tucked the phone back in his pocket, disappointed. He’d been looking forward to spending the evening with Lauren. Even though she was sometimes standoffish, he liked her company.

He also was a little excited about going to a Christmas ball—though not his first choice of entertainment.

It would’ve felt a lot like a date.

And yeah, he wanted to find out what that would be like.

The woman who had slithered up beside him—‘Call me Gin, like the drink’—made a pouty face. “Everything okay? You look disappointed.”

He knew her type. In a past life, he might’ve found flirting with her worth his time, but in the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was go back to the twelfth floor and see if he could do anything to help Lauren.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Was that your friend?” she asked, nodding toward his phone.

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s not feeling well.”

“Girlfriend?”

Will glanced her way without saying anything and put the phone back in his pocket.

“Awww.” Gin feigned disappointment. “Well, she obviously doesn’t know what she has.” Her hand was back on his arm. “Guess it’s just you and me, then. I’ve never been to a Christmas ball.”

His laugh sounded nervous—he was so out of practice. And this conversation felt off, like he’d accidentally put his shoes on the wrong feet. “Actually,” he got the bartender’s attention with a wave, “I think I’m going to call it a night.”

She frowned. “So early? You look like you could use a little fun.”