Lost Prelude

CHAPTER ONE


Day 1 ...


When I first stepped into this hotel, my heart was a broken mess. I thought that I would simply do what I came here to do and leave. No complications, no feelings. Besides, I didn’t have much left in me to feel anyway. That’s pretty much the default when you are dealing with grief though, right?

Some people see it as a fact of life, they say: we will all die one day—it doesn’t mean that they don’t care. On the other hand, some people take it harder than the others. They live with a broken heart, a piece of them lost forever—it doesn’t mean they are the only ones who care.

So, while I’m not claiming that I’m special, that my grief was more tangible—some days it did feel like I was sorrow itself, that who I lost did mean more, and that I would never feel a love like I’d been lucky to feel for twenty-five years.

When I first stepped in to this hotel, I could have never known that this would be the place I would fall in love with an impossible man. My pain would become tolerable in his arms, only to be replaced with another sort of agony strong enough to take my breath away. In this place I would feel whole again, even if it was for the short time I had him.

I didn’t care how I looked when I exited the elevator because I had no idea I was going to meet him—the man I would never get over, not until my last breath.

No matter how much I bundled up myself, I could still feel the cold seeping through my thick coat. Winter is my second favorite season, behind spring. I grew up playing in the snow, collected so many happy memories. However, coming to New York in February wasn’t the smartest decision I have ever made, especially in a time like this.

“Good evening, Miss Hart. How may I help you?” asked the desk clerk.

“Hi, Juliet. I really hate to do this, but I think I need you guys to change my room, again.”

“Oh, no. Is there something wrong with the new one? I thought the noise issue would be handled when we moved you down the hall.”

I sighed, already feeling bad about asking for a room change—the second time in the same day. Usually, I could ignore and live through just about everything. But this time, it just wasn’t happening. I desperately needed the luxury of breathing. Thankfully, Juliet didn’t seem annoyed with me at all.

“I know, and I thank you for that, really. But I think this time you put me in a smoking room. I tried to ignore it, but whoever occupied the room before me probably smoked quite a few packs of cigarettes in there. Even the walls and bed smell like smoke.”

She asked for my room number and checked a few things on the computer in front of her.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hart. There must be a mistake. I made sure to check your specifications before changing your room the last time. It should’ve been a smoke-free room. I’m so sorry; this is completely my fault. We’ll clear this up in a minute.”

She kept looking up at me and smiling nervously as if she were trying to gauge my anger. Working in such a big hotel couldn’t be easy, especially when they had an almost full house. She was probably afraid that I would want to speak to her manager about the mistake. I, however, put the blame to the couple that was having monkey sex next to my room—the first one—which I had only managed to endure for two hours. And as I left my room, I could still hear the screams and the not-so-sexy grunts echoing in my ears. They were the reason I ended up coming downstairs to ask for a room change in the first place.

It had only been six hours since I’d landed in New York City, and I was already dead on my feet. If I didn’t get some sleep soon, I was pretty sure I would pass out from exhaustion. It was just sheer stubbornness keeping me up at that point.

And the promise I made to my Dad.

Smiling to put her at ease, “Please, it’s okay,” I said. “I truly feel bad for coming down here again, but I couldn’t breathe in that room. I’ll take whatever you can find. The floor doesn’t even matter.”

Her lips tipped up; her posture relaxed. I watched her movements as she checked for other available rooms for me. Hoping she could find me a room sooner than later, I glanced around the lobby. It was almost 2 am, yet there were still people hanging around.

Couples were laughing loudly, filling the night air with chatter. Despite the cold outside, the night was still alive—almost as if the time was in a loop, never a moment to rest in New York City.

The soft music they were playing shifted my attention from the people, and I focused on the familiar notes.

I knew the song. I loved this song.

Stevie Wonder, I Just Called To Say I Love You …

It was a piano cover and that was enough to make my eyes well with tears as I thought of my dad in front of his old piano.