Page 41 of Our Little Cliche

Chapter Forty

CYRUS

The Grand Hickett Hotel is indeed grand with its white and gold marble tiles from floor to ceiling, creamy, ribbed columns spread throughout, and transparent elevators with golden trims gliding up and down for the guests. A young boy no older than eight catches my attention.

“I’ll check us in,” Holly says, leaving me in the lobby with our bags.

Anyone I know could rear their heads at any moment, so we keep our distance and our tone casual.

“Ten four.” I reply, returning my attention back to the child.

His face is pressed up against the glass, holding his mouth in the shape of an O as if he’s totally bewildered by the see-through roller coaster ride us adults refer to as a ‘lift’.

Pure joy. He locks eyes with me as it takes him and who I assume is his mother up a few flights, and waves.

I drop both luggage bags to return the favor, nodding with a smile—a laugh, actually, unable to avoid imagining that could be Holly and my son.

A family…

The three of us traveling the world. Side by side, by side.

I’ve never actively considered myself having children because I’ve always been so career driven, especially now.

That’s why I had the surgery in the first place.

Call me selfish, but I had— have— a career at stake, there’s been no room for mistakes.

Not that my child would ever be a mistake.

Even if it cost me my career I’d put my child first.

Sadness buries itself in my head for a brief moment, what if that kid has no father?

But I’m quickly proven wrong when the kid bolts out from the lift, embracing a man waiting on the other side of them.

Giggles and the word daddy bounces through the open lobby air, riding over my skin like a soft lullaby.

That’s no mistake.

That is pure bliss.

“Here’s your key. Room 308,” Holly says dryly, bringing me into the present, then turning on her feet. My key?

I grip her wrist when she starts to wander off. “Oh no you don’t. What’s wrong? Why are these my keys? Did something happen with the booking?”

“N—” Don’t you dare say nothing , I merely think the phrase and she adjusts herself. “I umm… I booked two rooms… obviously .”

“Oh, yes. You weren’t mine yet,” I say, and she giggles. “Well that just won’t do. However will I sleep without you wrapped in the sheets with me?”

She leans in to whisper softly, “I’ll just sneak in when the coast is clear,”

“Oh, naughty. I like it.” I hand her back my room’s key card. “You’ll need this. You go in first, I won’t be far behind.”

“Okay.” She grins, tiptoeing to the furthest she can to kiss my cheek.

“Are you ready?” I ask Holly, who’s standing before my eyes putting her earring in, primed and ready for today’s book signing. Though my question wasn’t if she was physically prepared… I meant mentally .

I know I’m not.

The fact that we’re going to have to act platonic for an entire day and a whole night just grinds my gears. I actually have to treat her like my employee and not the love of my life. It’s an abomination if you ask me.

“Yes, boss. I am ready Freddie.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “I guess I’ll have to get used to that, won’t I?”

“You might like it…”

“No. I don’t. I don’t want to be known as just your boss, Holly. I want to be your everything.”

“You already are, silly. But shh, they might hear that,” she winks, playfully snatching her handbag from under my arm. “Come on slow poke, let’s smash this shit in the park. Get you some RSI in that old wrist of yours.”

This woman.

It would be a lie if I said that I wasn’t crapping myself.

Quinn is literally paying for me to have Holly in my life right now, and all he has to do is snap his fingers and she’s a goner.

Myself too. We’ve both been dreading this day, and now that the reality is right under our noses, it’s a little more real and hard to swallow.

On a positive note, Quinn might get distracted enough with counting money from all the books I’ll sell today and bragging about the agency to notice how shit Holly and I are at not looking at each other like we want to skip off into the sunset holding hands.

We’ve got tonight to get through too. I think that terrifies me even more.

The Hickett Gala, the New Year’s rendezvous is set to roar into 2025 with a bang.

If I survive the night, that is. I don’t know how I’m going to function, let alone breathe when Holly wears a ball gown tonight.

I won’t even be able to walk her into the event by my side, it would be too suspicious.

And what about taking her for a dance? I couldn’t.

I won’t be able to touch her today, or tonight—at all.

And that just fucking kills me.

“Ah, you must be Holly. Hello, darling,” Quinn says, approaching our booth and reaching out to shake her hand. My gut pivots and spins with nerves, the unsettling thought of impending doom simmering in.

We can do this, we can do this, we can do this, I chant in my head.

“Mr. Potleigh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Please, call me Quinn.”

“Morning, Quinn,” I tap him on the back of the shoulder before severing a box open with a knife.

While Holly and Quinn occupy themselves talking about work, I get to laying my books out in a stylish fashion, scattering the not safe for work art pieces on the table, and loosely filling blank spaces with bookmarks and stickers.

“I’m going to go grab some coffee before the doors open, would you like one, Mr. Stone?” Holly addresses me without a pinch of flirtation or lust.

Ouch.

“Yes, please.”

“And you, Quinn?”

“Thank you.”

When she’s gone Quinn quickly locks himself to my shoulder. “She’s quite lovely, isn’t she?”

Fuck. Not this question.

“She’s certainly a hard worker.”

“An eye for detail. She gave me the notes of your current work in progress, I’m impressed. Far too intelligent for a shitty magazine agency. ”

Wait, what? “She did?”

“Yes. I wanted to see how she managed with your writing. I assume she cooks well also? You haven’t said otherwise.”

Shit. I’ve completely forgotten to fill him in with everything since she first walked in my front door. “Oh, yes. Of course. I’ve even had Australian cuisine. Sorry for not emailing you much, I’ve been busy…” fucking, falling in love, and— “writing.”

“Good. Good. If anything changes, you’ll let me know, yes?

I want you both sweating over this next release.

I don’t want a single error. We’re so close to that leader board.

” He shoves his finger in my face, waving it around.

“Ah, can you imagine Riverton House Publishing on the New York Times bestseller list? We’ll get better writers in, and more sales. It’ll be great.”

Of course. Money, money, money.

“I can see it.”

Holly returns with our coffees. “Thank you, a—” angel , I almost slip up, “aaand look at the display, what do you think?” Smooth recovery, Stone. She makes a few minor adjustments, stacking the books in a much nicer way than I had them.

“Better. There’s only three minutes until doors open, are we all ready?”

“Yes. Pen and books are ready.”

“Where should I stand?”

“Stand back here out of his way,” Quinn cuts in. “Then you can pass him the books out of the boxes instead of disorganizing the nice table he’s set up,” he adds. Holly’s eyes weaken slightly, and I know she hates this just as much as me.

Damn how intensely I am going to kiss those damn lips as an apology later.

“That’ll work, then I’ll sign them, and Quinn maybe you can take payment while she puts the books in these little gift bags,” I hate the bossy tone rolling off my tongue ordering her around, but I have no choice.

“You’re right to take photos?” Quinn asks her.

“Photos?”

“Yeah, the ladies go crazy for pictures with him.”

The horrid thought of taking photos with random women slithers under my skin…

My readers always ask for photos with me, and I usually don’t oppose the idea, however, I couldn’t think of anything worse.

There’s only one woman I want to stand beside, taking photos, smiling for the world to see… and that is my Holly Cate.