A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(16)
Or you could just go home! I mentally scream. This is the second worst week of my life, and it’s only Wednesday.
As he ends the call, I make myself look busy by opening up my email. There’s a flurry of new messages in my inbox. Today is going to last a million years. I already know it.
“Ava, good news,” Reed says, breaking off a piece of his muffin. “I’m moving out of room twenty-five. You must’ve had some cancellations, because there’s a lovely suite available, plus a room for my assistant.”
“What a fabulous development,” I mutter as I burn up with shame.
But Reed only chuckles. He isn’t even looking at me. He’s poking at his phone. I hear the ringtone of the next number he’s dialed.
“Wait,” I say quickly. I refuse to be the petty one, so I have to get this off my chest. “I’m sorry about the rooms. That was, um, inexcusable.”
He ends the call before the recipient picks up, and lifts his chin to look at me.
It kills me to apologize to the man who broke me, but it’s better than getting fired. I take a deep breath and push on. “I had a little freakout when you walked in yesterday. It won’t happen again. Let me comp those rooms your assistant booked. I’ll do it now.” I grab my laptop and flip over to the reservations system.
He doesn’t say anything, and when I dare to glance at him, he’s actually smiling at me. No—it’s worse than that. His big brown eyes actually twinkle, and I see a flicker of the twenty-one-year-old boy I fell in love with. “Honestly, it was a good prank, Ava. I should have known you could still surprise me.”
My heart gives a lurch inside my chest. “Let’s not discuss it anymore,” I say quickly, retreating to my computer screen. I pull up the Vista Suite, with its brand-new reservation for one Reed Madigan. “That suite is available until…next Thursday night. You have to be out of there by then.”
Although sooner would be better.
“That is not a problem,” he says lightly. “I’m sorry to give you a freakout.”
I sigh. “This is your home. You shouldn’t have to apologize for showing up here.”
He shrugs, and a smile still plays on the same mouth that used to kiss me senseless.
I look away, putting the manager’s code onto his reservation and zeroing out his daily room charge. “Meals, minibar stuff, and parking will still hit your card. But if you email me those receipts, I’ll refund them.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “On the other hand, you might want to air out room twenty-five before the next guy moves in. I think I got high just from the residual pot smoke in the shower curtain.”
“Good tip,” I say, swallowing hard. I wish he’d stop being nice to me. It was easier yesterday, when he was baffled and grumpy.
“Ava, can I ask you just one question?
Oh boy. “What is it?”
He leans forward, forearms on his knees, his eyes searching me. He’s wearing casual clothes today, but he still looks like a visiting prince in expensive jeans and a thickly knit cashmere sweater. Back when we were a couple, I would sometimes stare at the handsome rich kid from Colorado and wonder how any boy could be so beautiful.
I had it so bad for him. Especially when he’d look at me the way he’s doing now—with warmth and affection. I would have done anything for him.
But he threw it all away.
Reed clears his throat. “I’m curious how you ended up in Penny Ridge in the first place. I’m just trying to understand.”
“Oh.” I don’t owe Reed much, but an explanation about that is only fair. “Well, after we lost…” My throat closes up suddenly. There are so many sad ways that sentence can end, it’s hard to pick one. “After we split up, I wasn’t doing so well. And I didn’t have plans for the next few months.”
February is a weird time to finish college, but Middlebury graduates a portion of its student body after the January term every year. Our plan had been that I’d take the MCATs that spring and then follow Reed out west after his graduation. I was going to put med school on hold until after I had the baby.
But then everything changed. I had no plans, and I panicked.
He’s waiting for me to explain, but I’m not sure it’s going to make any sense. “You, um, let me into your room so I could get my things,” I say slowly. “And you had this stack of ski passes on your desk. They’d been there forever. Whenever I’d ask why you rarely went home, you’d tell me it was just inconvenient. But I always thought that was odd. Everyone goes home for Christmas, Reed.”
“Yeah, except me.” He looks down at the floor. “My father’s old assistant always sent the passes. She was trying to nudge me into coming home more often and bringing friends. Henrietta was her name.”
“I love Henrietta,” I say brightly. “She retired, but I still get Christmas cards.”
He looks up, and there’s a sad smile on his lips. “It’s weird to think that we know all the same people now. So you just… decided to go skiing?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping to get to the end of this conversation. “I had no real plan, and no place I had to be. And when I was throwing my stuff into my bag, I saw some of the passes were due to expire in a month. So I just took them.” I was so angry that day, shoving things into my bag, wondering what had happened to my life. “And I thought maybe if I saw where you came from, I would understand…” I run out of breath again. I would understand why you couldn’t love me anymore.