Falling into Forever (Falling into You) - By Lauren Abrams Page 0,46
of coffee and seemingly mundane task has turned into a hidden minefield of memories. It’s exacerbated by the fact that my ridiculous photographic memory makes it possible to examine my mind for little details that I thought I had forgotten long ago. I’m considering a lobotomy. An exorcism. Something.
“She’s not going to be there, is she?”
There’s uncharacteristic panic in Marcus’s tone, and I know that he isn’t thinking about Hallie. That makes one of us.
“Considering that Eva is Hallie’s agent, I think it’s probably a pretty good bet that she will be there.”
“Don’t mention that spider’s name in my presence again. She probably cast some kind of spell on it. She’s just waiting with her little poisoned apple. I need a food tester. Isn’t that what the kings of England have?” Marcus accompanies his words with an exaggerated shudder and wink, which brings some much needed comic relief.
I manage a small grin in response, but my fingers fiddle nervously with my phone. I’ve been nervous for a week, and I’m never nervous.
The car stops abruptly.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Jensen. Is there anything else you’ll require today?”
The driver is peering at me expectantly through the rearview window. There are plenty of things that I’ll require today, but I’m pretty sure the man in the front seat isn’t going to be able to provide any of them.
“No, we’re all set. One of us will call if we need a ride.”
“Very good, sir.”
He comes around to open the door. After thanking him, Marcus and I step under the awning and into the hotel.
“I’ll check us in. You just try to stand over there and look inconspicuous. If anyone recognizes you, just play dumb. Maybe Chris Jensen has a twin somewhere. Go with that. You know, if you had just listened to me about the security team, we wouldn’t have to worry about staying incognito this weekend. But no. No security. Dumbass.”
“It will be fine. Just check us in and spare me the lecture, okay?”
He rolls his eyes before making his way over to the check-in area. I pull the knit cap over my eyes as I look for a good spot to hide out. I’ve been to this hotel before, years ago, when my mother had dragged Diana and me on one of her little shopping expeditions. It seems like nothing has changed. Well-dressed women pass me with bulging bags holding the spoils of a few hours of shopping on the Magnificent Mile, just as my mother did, so many years before. I ignore them and make a beeline for the darkest corner of the lobby instead.
I scope out an empty couch but before I can reach it, I hear two very familiar voices. I duck for cover.
“That jackass.”
“He’s not a jackass, Eva.”
Shit. I’m not ready. I need a minute to prepare to see her, but I have to know who isn’t a jackass? Me? That might be too much to hope for.
I can’t see the pair of them, but the voices are tantalizingly close. They must be somewhere behind me.
“Oh, fuck yes, he is a jackass.”
“Eva, come on. There are kids around here.”
“Well, their fucking mothers should know better than to bring their grubby children, no offense, to a fucking grown-up hotel where grown people have too many fucking martinis at lunch.”
Hallie laughs, and it’s not the clipped laugh of the woman I saw in New York, the Hallie-but-not-Hallie. Instead, it’s filled with mischief and happiness and teasing. It takes every scrap of will in my body not to spin around and yank her into my arms. I murmur what I hope is a silent thank you and strain to listen to her words.
“You are so drunk right now. I never pinned you as a girl who couldn’t hold her liquor.”
“Oh, so now you want to be spunky again? All of this teasing is starting to freak me out. I forgot that you even knew how to make a joke, and here you are, coming back with zingers left and right. I miss the old Hallie. Put on the mopey face. For old times’ sake.”
“You are not even about to turn this around to make it about me. Not this time, drunkface. I cannot believe you didn’t tell me that you had history with Marcus. I also can’t believe that it took a three-martini lunch to pry that out of you. You were the one harping on me for neglecting to mention certain historical events.”