Page 18 of Love’s a Script (Hearts Collide #1)
Chapter Eighteen
After the night’s big interruption, morning came too soon for Ruben. He’d opened an eye to read the clock on the bedside table and was about to pull the covers over his head for a few more hours but saw Mary staring at the ceiling.
“How long you been up?” he asked her.
“Not long,” she replied, turning on her side to face him. “I kept waking up thinking I heard another alarm.”
“I dreamt that the side of the hotel room got ripped away by the wind,” he said. “And I was just circling in the sky with a cow in a sort of blizzard tornado.”
“Wait,” Mary said, laughing. “Where did the cow come from?”
“I can’t even begin to explain or guess.”
“Where was I?”
“You’re asking too many questions about what amounts to a stress-induced bad dream,” he replied, but the truth was that Mary had featured in his dream.
He didn’t mention it because it would feel like an admission of something more, but she’d been right beside him in the snowy cyclone, and their hands had been joined as they were in reality during the faux evacuation.
In the stairwell, Mary had reached for his hand when the alarm cut out. It had been an honest bid for comfort that he’d eagerly met, but like so much that weekend, it had also been a breach of the neat parameters that once governed their interactions.
Once they’d both gotten ready for the day, they left the room together for breakfast and found that all anyone could talk about was what caused last night’s false alarm.
“The wind,” came one suggestion from a lady on the elevator.
“I think a rat chewed through the wires that set off the alarm,” said another in the line at the buffet.
Ruben overheard someone bet it was a drill to test the response time if there was ever a real need to evacuate. And, of course, the Arizona couple had an elaborate conspiracy they readily shared.
“Someone broke into the kitchen trying to cook something and accidentally caused a fire that tripped the alarms,” Jillian said.
“I wouldn’t blame them,” Ruben replied as he pushed around the gummy oatmeal slop now passing for breakfast.
“You want some raisins?” Allen asked, sliding over a mini-snack box of raisins. The couple had collected a few dozen boxes so far. “Gives the food a hint of sweetness,” the older man said.
“I’m okay, thanks. Only thing that would hit the spot right now is a bowl of cereal that has enough added sugar to power a small motorized vehicle.”
Mary commiserated with a nod, saying, “Or a slightly heated cinnamon bun with extra glaze.”
Jillian perked up in her seat. “We’ve got this Mexican place back home that sells these incredible churros.”
“Ah, the caramel sauce!” Allen said.
The four of them continued sharing the perfect dishes and meals they’d eaten in the past until, toward the end of breakfast, the manager of the hotel showed up in the restaurant.
The dining room fell to a hush when he called attention to himself with the megaphone, and Ruben braced himself for more unpleasantry.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfasts,” the manager said, appearing the same as he had the first day of the storm, save the shabby stubble along his jaw, in a dress shirt and oversized blazer.
“I’ve just received some good news. The main road that leads to the highway will be cleared as early as tomorrow morning. ”
There was a hum as people turned to their neighbors to confirm what they’d heard.
“You mean we’re going home?” someone shouted.
“Yes, and to celebrate?—”
Applause and cheers thundered, and it took the manager a full minute to regain control.
“To celebrate,” the manager said loudly, “tonight we will have a special dinner. Bring your appetite and wear your best.”
Ruben turned to Mary and nearly said, “Toasts will be made with glasses of pickle juice,” but the dismissive words evaporated in the face of the blissful smile Mary wore.
“We’re going home!” she said, and something in Ruben’s chest lurched.
* * *
With the end of the hotel quarantine imminent, Mary let herself think about the moment she’d feel wind on her skin again, when she could plod through the snowdrifts and crack the thin frozen top layer.
She spent most of the afternoon seated on the lounge chair in the corner, preparing to return to work, her apartment, and routine.
She made a grocery list, reconnected to her team’s communication platform, drafted emails, and booked the first shuttle out the next morning.
On the other side of the room, Ruben also worked intently.
His hands flew across the keys of his laptop as he talked on the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder.
She got distracted watching his movements.
From the way he mindlessly twirled his pen across his fingers to how he balanced on the back legs of his chair, stretching his arms overhead and revealing a sliver of his taunt abdomen under his T-shirt.
“Am I being too loud?” he asked when he caught her looking at him.
“You’re not. It’s fine,” she said, smiling through the embarrassment. She turned back to the work on her lap and vowed not to raise her head again. The strategy worked, except she also dozed off right there in the chair.
When she woke up, daylight had gone, her neck was stiff, and Ruben was standing before her, handsome in a button-down shirt, jeans, and Converse.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said softly.
She lifted a self-conscious hand to her face. “What time is it?”
“We have an hour before dinner.”
She reeled to straighten and checked her phone, confirming she’d slept all afternoon.
“I’ll be quick,” she said and retreated to the bathroom where she freshened up, ran a heating tool through her hair, and struggled into the sequined long-sleeve mini dress she’d brought as an option for the wedding.
She emerged from the bathroom to find Ruben standing in front of the TV, listening to the latest storm reports.
“Any major updates?” she asked as she slipped past him to store her belongings.
“Same old hedging. But it doesn’t seem the damages in the city are…”
“Are what?” Mary asked when he didn’t finish his thought. She turned to face him and found him staring at her.
“The damages are not as bad as they’d predicted,” he said. “You look nice.”
A feather-light trill fell along Mary’s back. “Thank you.”
He gave a short nod, then turned away to switch off the television. “You ready to head down?” he asked.
“I am.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, they discovered order had been restored to the dining room. Chairs and tables were no longer positioned randomly, and gentle orchestral music from unseen speakers played guests to their seats.
Ruben and Mary were waved down by the Arizona couple, and they approached the pair who had traded their sporty outfits for a dress and trousers.
“You look spectacular,” Jillian said to Mary as the women hugged.
“You as well!”
As guests continued to arrive, waitstaff circulated around the restaurant with sparkling cider.
Allen raised his glass. “To making it out here alive.”
“And without devolving into cannibalism,” Ruben added, and they all clinked their glasses together.
Soon, the aromas from the buffet filled the room, and section by section, guests were permitted to go up and serve themselves.
The main meal consisted of a meat or vegetable lasagna, salad, and garlic bread that had everyone going back for seconds.
It was all simple, certainly nothing to Yelp about, but it felt like luxury.
Toward the end of dinner, Mary got up to scan the dessert spread, a medley of brownies, Nanaimo bars, and Rice Krispie treats, when Bethany sidled up to her. With all the excitement of the last day, she’d forgotten about the bridesmaid.
“Would you mind introducing me to Ruben right now?” whispered Bethany. “We’re all leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want to miss my chance.”
“For sure!” Mary said, and gestured for Bethany to follow her. As they approached the table, Mary readied herself, putting on a big, great smile.
“Ruben,” she said brightly, “I’d like you to meet Bethany. She’s the bridesmaid I was telling you about.”
Surprise crossed Ruben’s face before he smiled and greeted Bethany, who quickly took Mary’s seat.
Their conversation was immediate, and Mary retreated to the other side of the round table next to the Arizona couple.
She took sips of her tea and nibbled at the dessert squares, listening to the older couple share their plan to make wine with all the raisin boxes they’d collected when they got home.
Periodically, Mary would permit herself to glance over at Ruben and Bethany.
While she couldn’t hear what they were talking about, Mary doubted it warranted all the laughing Bethany was doing.
She could admit it was an ungenerous thought.
She’d watched countless singles interact and was accustomed to the excessive preening, the awkward flirting, and the nervous ticks.
When a couple got up to sway to the slow music, they shifted the expectations of the evening, and gradually pop hits replaced the classical music and more people abandoned their seats to dance.
It gave Mary something to fix her attention to other than the date happening across from her.
That is, until Bethany and Ruben also made their way to the makeshift dance floor.
Mary watched them for half a song—her shoulders growing tense with each syncopating beat—before she realized she didn’t have to be there.