feelings all damn day. I have a feeling staying here might turn out to be more dangerous than the icy roads.
Yet I’m not running.
Not because there’s nowhere to go, but because I want to stay with Lars.
I’m finally ready to be brave and embrace whatever this night holds.
The Love Nest
You have got to be kidding me.
I shake my head.
It’s like the fates are against us.
Or maybe they’re actually for us, and that’s why they’re pushing us together.
Why else would the only motel in this godforsaken part of the state be called The Love Nest?
Heaven help us.
I notice Becca is trying not to laugh.
Clearly, she feels pretty much the same way I do.
How could she not?
If the name alone isn’t a strong indicator that this is a hookup motel, the bubblegum-pink wooden trim on the low red brick building is a dead giveaway that this place is all about “love.”
“Well, at least it seems they keep the place up,” Becca states encouragingly, nodding as she glances around. “That’s a good sign, right?”
“Yeah,” I agree. “It’s clearly not a fleabag motel.”
It’s not.
It’s just a little heavy on the pink.
As we pull into a parking spot in front of the motel office on the far end of the building, I point to several cut-out foil hearts adorning the window and murmur, “I can’t wait to see what it looks like inside.”
“Right? This should be an interesting experience.”
I remind Becca, “You know, it could be worse.”
Peering over at me curiously, she asks, “How do you mean?”
Tapping the steering wheel absently, I reply, “Well, it’s not the motel in the movie Psycho. You’ve seen that, right? Good ole Norman Bates.”
“Eek.” Becca shudders. “Yes, I’ve seen the movie. And it would definitely be awful if this place turned out to be anything like that.”
Nodding to the hearts on the window again, I say, “Nah, I think we’re safe.”
With a final thank-God-for-that look from Becca, we hop out of the Nav.
Even though the sidewalk appears to have been heavily salted, I hold Becca’s arm as we head into the motel office, which ends up looking a lot like Cupid’s den of love.
Letting go of her arm, I take in everything, as does she.
How could you not?
The office is quite the sight.
The wallpaper is a display of pink, red, and purple hearts, arrows, and various depictions of Cupid himself. The carpeting is a deep red, and there’s a big pink wicker basket containing candy hearts over on the counter.
“It’s kind of funny how we just can’t get away from Valentine’s Day,” Becca remarks as she steps over to the counter and grabs a handful of hearts.
She gives me one, which I place in my jacket pocket.
“Yeah,” I reply, chuckling. “Clearly, we can’t.”
I’m beginning to wonder if it’s such a bad thing to be reminded of Valentine’s Day. Becca and I never talk about that night, not anymore. We don’t ever even make reference to it.
I guess it’s just safer that way.
Still, there’s no denying The Love Nest is triggering memories.
I know for her too, seeing as she’s eyeing me curiously.
When I raise a brow, she quickly looks away.
“Uh,” Becca mumbles, “do you want more candy hearts?”
Nice change of subject.
Smiling at her, I reply, “No thanks.”
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll hold onto the rest for now. They could be our only provisions for the night.”
Hmm, she does have a point.
Based on how the icy rain is making a noisy clatter as it hits the roof, those candy hearts may truly be our only source of sustenance for the immediate future.
“Good thing we ate a big lunch,” I say.
“Right?”
No one is at the front desk, or coming to it, so I tap the little silver bell on the counter.
“My goodness, sounds like I have a customer,” a voice groggily proclaims from the back room, as if the person has just woken up.
Within seconds, a little white-haired lady emerges from the back, patting her bun and stifling a yawn.
I can’t blame her for napping. It’s not exactly like business is booming in the icy rain.
“I didn’t realize someone had come in,” she says apologetically. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. It’s just that we don’t get much business this time of year. Now on Valentine’s Day…” She grins. “It’s a whole different story.”
“I bet,” Becca murmurs.
Thumbing toward the door, I say, “It’s a little rough out there with the ice, so we decided to stop and get a room for the night.”
The motel lady nods. “That’s a very wise choice, sir. You