Daughters Of The Bride(125)

Courtney had spent the past five days feeling as if she had the flu. She hurt all over, she felt sick to her stomach and there was a sense of dread that followed her everywhere. Worse, she’d been forced to act like a character in a very bad farce—leaping behind doors and ducking down corridors, all in an attempt to avoid Quinn.

While she hadn’t technically seen him since they’d gotten back from LA on Friday, she’d known that she could at any second. He was still living at the hotel. At some point they were going to have to deal with each other, but she wanted to put that off as long as possible—mostly because she had no idea what she was going to say.

She was more than confused—she was lost. She knew she missed him. A thousand times a day she thought of something she wanted to share with him. She wanted to see him and be held by him. At the same time, she was furious that he’d changed the rules. They were supposed to have fun together—nothing more. They were supposed to be lovers, then move on. Falling in love wasn’t part of the deal.

She didn’t want to love anyone. It didn’t go well. Look at her mother, her sisters. Love was a disaster. Love hurt. She didn’t want to be hurt. It was better to be alone. She’d decided that a long time ago, and the decision had served her well. She’d been happy. Until Quinn.

She missed him. Missed how he looked at her, how he moved. She missed his stupid Taylor Swift T-shirt and how he’d made her learn how to walk in high heels. She missed his take on the world, how he loved Pearl and Sarge and his grandmother. She missed his posse, his smile, his laugh and his unshakable confidence.

How could someone that amazing love her? To quote a movie from another generation, she wasn’t worthy. But thinking she wasn’t good enough pissed her off, too. She might not be as amazing as him, but she still had good qualities. She was smart and funny and ambitious. Okay, sure, there was some fear and she might have commitment issues, but no one was perfect.

She was, she had to admit, an uncomfortable combination of sad, mad and afraid. Hence the flu symptoms.

She finished her last room and returned her housekeeping cart to the linen closet on the main floor. She was doing only about a third of her normal cleaning schedule because there was a wedding this weekend, not to mention two conventions over the next week. After that was her mother’s wedding, then three blissful days of almost nothing, then a wedding every weekend until the end of September.

Thinking about work made her feel marginally better. Her almost cheerful mood lasted until Kelly waved her over and said, “Joyce is looking for you. She wants you in her office right away.”

Uh-oh. Her boss had found out about Quinn.

“Thanks,” Courtney said, feeling her stomach drop to her toes. This was going to be bad.

She squared her shoulders and walked directly to Joyce’s office behind the reception area. The door was open. She knocked once, then entered.

“Kelly said you were looking for me.”

Joyce looked up from her computer and nodded. “I was. Please close the door.”

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. Courtney did as she was told, pausing only to pat both Pearl and Sarge. The dogs were on a small, furry chaise that Joyce had bought for them. Sarge had a sock.

Courtney took the seat across from her boss and told herself that, whatever happened, she would be fine. She’d been taking care of herself for nearly a decade. She had skills, a modest savings account and the will to survive.

Joyce slipped off her reading glasses and folded her hands together on the desk. “It is completely ridiculous that you continue to act like this,” she began. “You are not a maid, Courtney. You haven’t been for a long time. You’re managing multiple events and acting as an assistant manager. That’s more valuable to me than you cleaning rooms. I want to hire three more maids and put you on as the event coordinator full-time.”

Joyce’s expression was stern. “I don’t know what you have in your head that you have to keep cleaning rooms, but it has to stop right now. I have a business to run. I’m your boss. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

That was it? They weren’t going to talk about Quinn?

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry to have to be stern, but there we are,” Joyce continued. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses, but you won’t. I thought after you got your AA, you would realize that there was more for you to do here. But you’re still hiding. You’re still afraid. You’ll do the work, but you won’t take the title. Why is that?”

Even though they’d been talking about completely different things, Joyce’s words reminded her of that horrible conversation with Quinn. He’d talked about fear, too. Hers. She’d always seen herself as tough—was she wrong in that?