AVA
Reed Madigan just apologized to me. After a decade of silence, he apologized. Now he’s taking a seat by the window like he belongs here.
And I’m so mad I could break things. Like his face, for starters.
On shaky knees, I walk into the Evergreen Room and sit down in the first chair I see. Robotically, I pull out my laptop out of my shoulder bag and set it on the table. I open it and then stare at the screen with unseeing eyes.
What am I supposed to do now? I can’t do my job with Reed lurking in my consciousness. For the first time in years, he’s living rent free in my head. And that was before he blindsided me with an apology.
I don’t want to travel back in time. I don’t want to think about how devastating our breakup was to me. That man wrecked me. I can’t deal with him and think straight at the same time. It’s just impossible. The best I can manage to do right now is pick up my coffee cup and take a deep pull.
I need to focus. I need Reed Madigan gone.
But now he’s propping up his own laptop on the deep windowsill. Then he pulls out his phone and makes a call.
I eavesdrop. Not like he’s making it difficult.
“Good morning, Sheila,” he says in a warm voice.
And all the air is sucked right out of my body again. Who’s Sheila?
“Before you bombard me with the day’s updates, I need to tell you we’ve had a sudden change of plans.”
I hear a high-pitched reaction coming from his phone, but I can’t make out the words.
“Now, hang on,” he says. “Shouldn’t you wait for details before you threaten me with bodily harm? Have you ever been to Colorado? I could use your help here. So unless you hate the idea of fresh air and mountain views, please book yourself a flight to Denver. And I have an assignment for you while you’re on the plane.”
That’s when I remember to breathe. Sheila must be his assistant. Thank God, because if Reed’s girlfriend or fiancée turned up this evening, I think my head would pop right off. The only thing worse than trying to forget all the times your ex made you the center of his world is remembering them while he’s holding hands with some other woman.
I’m sure Reed’s girlfriend exists. I just don’t want to meet her.
“And while you’re airborne,” he says, “I need you to pull any numbers you can find on the recent sale of ski resorts. There won’t be many. After that, look for sales of resort hotels in ski locations, sorted by the size of the property. Room count or bed count—whatever metric hotels use. Note the proximity to a ski lift. And then check LinkedIn to see if I know anybody who buys and sells hotels.”
Sheila speaks rapidly for a moment, and then Reed responds, “Yeah, just a spreadsheet. It doesn’t have to look pretty. Landing at four thirty? Awesome. Grab that seat before it’s gone. I’ll send you the name of a taxi company who can pick you up at the airport. Put all your travel on my personal card, by the way. And we have to find you a room. I hear it’s tight. I can go and beg the front desk, but—”
Oh no. If his assistant is looking at the resort website right now, I’m so screwed.
“Really,” he says slowly. “You found a room right on Madigan Mountain? You don’t say.” His eyes cut over to me, and his gaze is accusatory.
Shit!
“Awesome, Sheila. Go ahead and book it through the weekend if you want. I heard it’s going to snow. Do you ski? Cool. Hey—while you’re in there, book a room for me. Do you see any suites?”
Oh God. I want to die. Immediately.
“The newly renovated Vista Suite? Sounds magical. Yeah, give me that one.” He gives me another sideways glance.
And I give up on even pretending to work. This is a disaster. I just drink my coffee and openly listen to his conversation. I hope he won’t tattle on me to his father. This is going to be so embarrassing.
“Okay, good. Now hit me with your nagging. Who’s on my call sheet today?” He pulls a pen and a tidy little Moleskine notebook out of his messenger bag and starts scribbling. “Right. Yup. Uh… no, I actually forgot to call Harper. There’s a lot going on here…” He suddenly holds the phone away from his ear, and I hear the tinny sound of a woman yelling at him. “Christ,” he murmurs. When the shouting quiets down, he puts the phone against his ear again. “Okay, I know. I’m an asshole. I will call her right after I hang up with you.” He actually drops his pen and puts his hand against his heart. “I solemnly swear.”
Or you could just go home! I mentally scream. This is the second worst week of my life, and it’s only Wednesday.
As he ends the call, I make myself look busy by opening up my email. There’s a flurry of new messages in my inbox. Today is going to last a million years. I already know it.
“Ava, good news,” Reed says, breaking off a piece of his muffin. “I’m moving out of room twenty-five. You must’ve had some cancellations, because there’s a lovely suite available, plus a room for my assistant.”
“What a fabulous development,” I mutter as I burn up with shame.
But Reed only chuckles. He isn’t even looking at me. He’s poking at his phone. I hear the ringtone of the next number he’s dialed.
“Wait,” I say quickly. I refuse to be the petty one, so I have to get this off my chest. “I’m sorry about the rooms. That was, um, inexcusable.”
He ends the call before the recipient picks up, and lifts his chin to look at me.
It kills me to apologize to the man who broke me, but it’s better than getting fired. I take a deep breath and push on. “I had a little freakout when you walked in yesterday. It won’t happen again. Let me comp those rooms your assistant booked. I’ll do it now.” I grab my laptop and flip over to the reservations system.
He doesn’t say anything, and when I dare to glance at him, he’s actually smiling at me. No—it’s worse than that. His big brown eyes actually twinkle, and I see a flicker of the twenty-one-year-old boy I fell in love with. “Honestly, it was a good prank, Ava. I should have known you could still surprise me.”
My heart gives a lurch inside my chest. “Let’s not discuss it anymore,” I say quickly, retreating to my computer screen. I pull up the Vista Suite, with its brand-new reservation for one Reed Madigan. “That suite is available until…next Thursday night. You have to be out of there by then.”
Although sooner would be better.
“That is not a problem,” he says lightly. “I’m sorry to give you a freakout.”
I sigh. “This is your home. You shouldn’t have to apologize for showing up here.”
He shrugs, and a smile still plays on the same mouth that used to kiss me senseless.
I look away, putting the manager’s code onto his reservation and zeroing out his daily room charge. “Meals, minibar stuff, and parking will still hit your card. But if you email me those receipts, I’ll refund them.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “On the other hand, you might want to air out room twenty-five before the next guy moves in. I think I got high just from the residual pot smoke in the shower curtain.”
“Good tip,” I say, swallowing hard. I wish he’d stop being nice to me. It was easier yesterday, when he was baffled and grumpy.
“Ava, can I ask you just one question?
Oh boy. “What is it?”
He leans forward, forearms on his knees, his eyes searching me. He’s wearing casual clothes today, but he still looks like a visiting prince in expensive jeans and a thickly knit cashmere sweater. Back when we were a couple, I would sometimes stare at the handsome rich kid from Colorado and wonder how any boy could be so beautiful.
I had it so bad for him. Especially when he’d look at me the way he’s doing now—with warmth and affection. I would have done anything for him.
But he threw it all away.
Reed clears his throat. “I’m curious how you ended up in Penny Ridge in the first place. I’m just trying to understand.”
“Oh.” I don’t owe Reed much, but an explanation about that is only fair. “Well, after we lost…” My throat closes up suddenly. There are so many sad ways that sentence can end, it’s hard to pick one. “After we split up, I wasn’t doing so well. And I didn’t have plans for the next few months.”
February is a weird time to finish college, but Middlebury graduates a portion of its student body after the January term every year. Our plan had been that I’d take the MCATs that spring and then follow Reed out west after his graduation. I was going to put med school on hold until after I had the baby.
But then everything changed. I had no plans, and I panicked.
He’s waiting for me to explain, but I’m not sure it’s going to make any sense. “You, um, let me into your room so I could get my things,” I say slowly. “And you had this stack of ski passes on your desk. They’d been there forever. Whenever I’d ask why you rarely went home, you’d tell me it was just inconvenient. But I always thought that was odd. Everyone goes home for Christmas, Reed.”
“Yeah, except me.” He looks down at the floor. “My father’s old assistant always sent the passes. She was trying to nudge me into coming home more often and bringing friends. Henrietta was her name.”
“I love Henrietta,” I say brightly. “She retired, but I still get Christmas cards.”
He looks up, and there’s a sad smile on his lips. “It’s weird to think that we know all the same people now. So you just… decided to go skiing?”
“Yes,” I say, hoping to get to the end of this conversation. “I had no real plan, and no place I had to be. And when I was throwing my stuff into my bag, I saw some of the passes were due to expire in a month. So I just took them.” I was so angry that day, shoving things into my bag, wondering what had happened to my life. “And I thought maybe if I saw where you came from, I would understand…” I run out of breath again. I would understand why you couldn’t love me anymore.
He rubs his hands together absently. It’s a thing he does when he’s thinking, and the familiarity of the gesture is like a knife to the heart. “And did you?” he asks quietly. “Understand me better?”
“No.” I sigh. “Of course not. Even when I figured out who your dad was, he was just a stranger. But it was high season, and on my last day at the hotel, the front-desk clerk quit right in front of me. She had a meltdown at your father and left just like that.” I snap my fingers. “And I had no idea what I was doing with my life, and I was starting to panic. So I asked your father for a job.”
Reed takes this in with another smile. I guess I should be glad he finds this amusing instead of creepy.
“Your dad sent me to Henrietta for a job application, and I started working the very next day. They gave me room twenty-five, which is the, uh, worst one. We try not to put anyone in there if we can help it.”
He actually laughs, and I turn red again.
“After that, I kept getting promoted. So I never took the MCAT, and I just…never left.”
“Okay.” He sits back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome,” I mumble. “It was long overdue.”
He has the good grace not to agree with me.
And then the chef walks in to talk to me about tonight’s dinner.
