her to sympathize with him.
Amelia grabbed her laptop, stuffed her phone in her back pocket. “Why are you being so insufferable? My God, didn’t you ever have to delegate back at the Orion? Let go of a little control?”
That was the wrong button to push.
And she should’ve known better.
Alex straightened. He couldn’t believe that he had to remind his sister that he’d lost his job—and been unable to find another one—because he’d loosed control.
All the pain at being betrayed by Elena, all the bitterness at being fired because of what she’d done, cascaded through him again as if it’d just happened yesterday.
“Yeah. I did delegate.” Somehow, the words clawed their way out of a throat as dry as sawdust. “Put my trust in others. And look what happened. Someone I trusted stole from the hotel. From me. She abused that trust. Elena could’ve asked me for help. I would’ve found a better solution.”
Amelia shifted her laptop awkwardly. Shifted her feet, too. Basically, her entire demeanor turned awkward and stiff, proof she knew she’d gone too far. “You don’t know that, Alex. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. If Elena had told you she needed to run away from an abusive situation, what would you have done?”
Oh, he had the answer. He’d thought about it day and night for weeks once she left. “Given her my own money, for starters. Steered her to the safe houses already set up to protect abused women. One of which was three blocks behind the Orion. She could’ve walked there.”
A silence fell between them, as palpable as a curtain dissecting the room.
Finally, Amelia pressed her lips together into a single, pale line. “Well, we’re not going to steal from you, Alex. You have to trust us.”
“I trust you won’t steal. But after this stunt you pulled today that will unquestionably cost all of us? Money, time, and stress? I’m not feeling replete with trust in your judgment.”
It was harsh.
It was true.
She opened, then closed her mouth. Marched to the door. Hand on the knob, she turned back around. “Teague’s right. You do need to get laid. You’re a wound-up grump. This booking? It’s a good thing. I’m going to go celebrate it with everyone else. Oh, and you are not invited.”
Fine.
Alex had his own party to go to.
A pity party. For one.
Chapter Fifteen
Was it automatically a date if you’d shaved and lotioned everything?
Even when your fake fiancé clearly had not shaved in two days? Nor seemed anywhere close to being in a ‘date’ frame of mind?
Sydney wasn’t sure.
They’d canceled their standing, official, let the town see the lovebirds in action date on account of snow. No point going out if everyone else was staying in.
Marylanders were terrified of snow. They were happy for about the first twenty flakes, and then acted like everything falling from the sky was laced with radiation. Or would immediately smother them.
Sydney had trekked through feet of snow in the Himalayas. Schussed through it in Switzerland. Learned to drive in it. She wasn’t scared of the forecast.
Neither, it seemed, was Alex. Because after they canceled going out, the little dots in her texting screen kept going. A single line. Can I come over anyway?
She’d agreed—after giving a time window that allowed her to buff and polish and primp long enough that you could de-wrinkle linen from all the steam in the bathroom.
To be fair, Alex hadn’t said he wanted to come over for a date. He’d come in, sat on the embarrassing futon that her sister refused to upgrade, and stared moodily across the room.
It could be the elephants.
Kim had an obsession with them. It probably inspired her desire to sign up for the Peace Corps in Africa. Yay for selfless volunteerism! Unfortunately, it translated into a less than adult decorating scheme. The living room alone had a stuffed elephant footstool, shellacked and framed elephant puzzle, and numerous throw pillows that followed the theme.
It was like living in a zoo gift store.
Maybe Alex needed to be distracted from them?
“I got a job offer,” Sydney blurted out.
Probably not the best icebreaker, but it had been the only thing on her mind for days. She knelt to rummage through the antique ice chest that held all of Kim’s liquor.
“Are you looking for a job? Or is this an annoying headhunter thing?” Alex shook his head. “I just realized we’ve never talked about your job since that night on the porch. Well, your job before you started at the Mercantile.”
Her head twisted around faster than that possessed