Without a Hitch(9)

“Okay, boss man. Anything else?”

“Yes. Have some fun while you’re there. California is amazing this time of year and you have to head into San Francisco proper too.”

Fun. Right. I sometimes forget that my boss is the emperor of fun. “I’ll try.”

“Are you heading back to the office before you go to Charlotte?” The way he asks has me smiling like a loon. Colton may work hard, but he also makes sure everyone around him remembers to live, laugh, and love.

“I wasn’t planning to. Why?” I lean in closer to the screen to examine his reaction.

“Lochlan is being a pain in the ass. I think he needs a little sparkle in his life.”

Colton has an affinity for glitter bombs, and no one in his life is immune.

“You know, for the longest time, I wondered if you had any friends. Now I wonder how you keep them. I’ve yet to meet anyone in your circle who likes being doused in glitter. Even if it is your love language.”

His laughter sounds rich even through my AirPods. “Why would you think I have no friends?”

“Because how long have I worked for you? Not once, in all that time, has anyone visited you besides your family, and no one ever calls unless it’s business-related.”

“It’s not the nineties, Till. We have cell phones, remember? No one calls anymore, especially not people who are busy running their own empires all over the world.”

“I guess,” I grumble. Would it hurt for some of his hot friends to pop by once in a while, though?

Geesh. “Fine, what color this time?”

“Pink, of course.”

“You want me to send it from the same place? Ruindays.com? Or did you need me to send it personally from the office?”

“The online one is fine.” He chuckles like a ten-year-old. “Bye, Tilly.”

“Bye, Colt.”

Shaking my head, I click out of FaceTime and pull up my current blog post. I’d never had the urge to blog until I started traveling so often. I’m not a writer like my sister Sloane, but after an experience at a hotel in Arizona with an overworked housekeeper, I knew it would be all about the services that make the business—the helpers. With a side of love thrown in because it’s me.

Love in the Lobby was born out of a need to stay connected to how I grew up, even if I’m living in the land of excess that someone else funds. For now, anyway. I wasn’t expecting it to take off so suddenly, but I had a hundred thousand subscribers by my third post, and it’s growing every day.

The bartender places a glass of water in front of me, so I remove my earbuds. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” He winks. He’s a shameless flirt and has the dimples to get away with it. He might be a perfect person to interview for my next post.

I’m about to ask him when my thoughts are interrupted by a screeching banshee to my left. “You’re telling me now that my boyfriend can’t come to your wedding? It’s tomorrow, Jenna. To-mor-row!

He’s already here. What am I supposed to tell him?”

“O-liv-ia!” someone else says dramatically. “If you’d told us who your boyfriend was months ago, Jenna would have told you then. But you didn’t because you obviously knew it would be an issue.”

Angling myself on the barstool so I can spy on the action, I try really hard not to make it obvious that I’m watching the show, but they’re so close I could easily pass for a member of their party. I think Olivia is the one with her back to me, but there are four women huddled together facing her.

“It isn’t my fault he didn’t want you, Melinda,” the maybe-Olivia hisses.

Ouch. Olivia’s bite is as ruthless as her bark.

“Do you even hear yourself?” another woman, presumably another bridesmaid, chimes in. “You slept with Melinda’s fiancé, and now you think it’s okay for him to attend her sister’s wedding? You can’t be that dense.”

Oooh, the drama! Where’s the popcorn when you need it?

The maybe-Olivia stands with a drink in her hand, and in slow motion, I see what she’s about to do. Without thinking, I reach up just in time to stop her forward motion and remove the drink from her hand. I’m pretty sure it was headed toward the bride-to-be.

“You probably don’t want to do that. Olivia, is it? If the wedding is happening in this hotel, one or both of the betrothed have money. This can only end badly for you.”

“Who are you?” She scowls as the bridal party watches, some in shock and some with bemused expressions that would concern me if I thought I’d ever see them again.

“I’m just a friend watching out for everyone’s best interests. I work in PR, and I can promise you, this would be a disaster of epic proportions. My advice? Fulfill your duties to the bride, then skip out on the reception if you must be with your boyfriend. But”—I lean in conspiratorially—“in my experience, once a cheater, always a cheater, so make this decision carefully.”

They all stare at me, wide-eyed and shell-shocked. I covertly check my wine glass. How many have I had? Am I drunk? I try really hard not to get involved in other people’s drama without their permission! Most of the time. Ugh! What have I done? But of course, I know that answer. I’m a sucker for brides, weddings, and all things happily ever after.