on her chest. “Oh my God, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
Tabitha seemed to be mulling it over, her mouth practically inverted with the way she was chewing her lip.
“I promise it wasn’t anything untoward. I did in fact resign before anything could happen. Dauphine didn’t get—” Shit. I’d been about to say Dauphine didn’t get hurt by it. But she’d been freaking kidnapped while her father and I had been hours away having a sexy escape. My stomach flipped over into utter nausea. God. My gaze dropped to my drink.
“I need the restroom,” Tabitha said, her voice subdued and disappointed. She hopped off the stool.
“Yikes,” I said. “I feel like shit.” I was going to have to give Tabs way more than the brief outline I’d just given her. And many, many apologies.
“There’s never an easy path to true love,” Meredith said sagely. “I’ll go check she’s okay.” She slipped off her stool and followed.
“Is she okay?” Barb asked.
“It’s—it’s too much to go into right now.” I sighed heavily. So much for a healing girls’ night and getting advice on talking to Xavier. “But, hey, guess who called me on my way in?”
“Tate?” Barbara guessed.
“Wait. How did you know?”
“That’s what I needed to tell you. So, you saw the signs were down? Well, apparently the developer sold his entire position to a new guy. And the new guy hates the plans Jason had approved. And even though they warned him it will slow the project down another twelve months at least, he wants different plans. Doesn’t care he has to hold it longer. Clearly the guy is rich as Croesus. And apparently Donovan showed him your plans. He loves them. He especially loves the little footnotes you had about why you made certain choices and the history of the land and what not. He wants an archeological dig first, and then wants to build in a display room to outline the history of the land on which the hotel is built.”
I blinked, moved. And a little astounded that the new developer wanted all the same things I did. “That’s …”
“I know! Amazing, right?”
“That explains why Tate was begging to have me back then. I’m probably the only person who’s been championing the historical element. But they have my plans, why don’t they just use them?”
“Because Mr. Pascale,” she dropped her voice, “that’s the new owner who bought the project, told them if they can’t get the original person who designed those plans back on board then he’s going with a different architectural firm.”
My drink was suspended two inches off the table where I’d been frozen in mid-flight when she mentioned Mr. Pascale, and now it slipped back to the table with a loud crack.
The sound jerked me to attention, and liquid sloshed down the sides onto my hand.
“Oh, dear! Here,” Barb said and pressed her napkin onto the spill. She fussed and mopped and blotted.
“What did we miss?” Meredith sang as she sat back down. Tabs trailed in behind her.
My mouth opened then closed.
“Oh,” Barb said. “I just told Josie she was offered her job back because the new guy—”
I stood abruptly. “I’m sorry. I, uh, have to go. Thanks, Barb. Sorry I have to run.”
Meredith tilted her head.
“Mer, fill Barb in on Xavier Pascale?” I turned to Barb. “Fill Tabs and Mer in on what you just told me?”
Barb nodded. “Sure. Wait. Xavier … Pascale?”
“Yeah,” I said. I tipped back my gin drink and almost choked.
“Go get him!” Meredith clapped.
Tabs stared at me, a mix of emotions in her eyes. And Barb, piecing everything together, just whispered. “Go get your man.”
Seconds later, I was running out the door.
I was already so late.
Chapter Fifty-Three
I flew through the door of the Planters’ Inn and came to an abrupt stop on the walnut stained wide plank floor. Shit. Had I left the card with his room number at home when I went to shower before work? I opened my purse and half-heartedly checked the inner pockets even while I remembered laying the card down on my bedside table thinking I’d get it when I popped home to refresh my outfit and make up after girl’s night. Should I go home and get it or have a drink in the Peninsula Grill, the hotel restaurant, and call him?
“May I help you, miss?”
A uniformed bellhop or footman or whatever they called them here, appeared at my elbow.
My shoulders sagged. “No. I’m good. Thanks. I forgot my friend’s room number. I