Who We Could Be - Chelsea M. Cameron Page 0,27
mean, we’ve shared a bed how many times before?”
“Good point,” she said, and then she flopped down on her back on the bed.
“Do you need anything?” I found some bottles of water in the fridge and handed her one. The room was beautiful, and even had a little balcony I could see us having breakfast on in the mornings in fluffy robes like fancy people. Hopefully I could make room for that in her itinerary. I really needed to get my hands on her phone so I could find it and see what I was in for.
“A new life?” she said, shutting her eyes and throwing her arm over her face.
“Sorry, I’m fresh out, but how about a snack?” I found the room service menu but was interrupted by a knock on the door. A waiter had a try with an ice bucket and two glasses, as well as a tray of chocolate strawberries. As if the hotel had read my mind.
“Wow, thank you so much,” I said, and gave the guy a generous tip.
“Compliments of the front desk,” he said with an awkward little bow.
I wheeled the cart into the room.
“Come have a glass of bubbly with me,” I said, and Monty sat up. I opened the bottle and poured her a glass. I set the tray of strawberries on the bed and plunked down next to her.
“To the bestfriendimoon,” I said, holding my glass out. She clinked hers against mine and then downed the whole thing in one go.
This was going to be an interesting week.
I CHECKED IN WITH MY parents, and after gulping two glasses of champagne and munching a few strawberries, Monty crashed out on the bed. I was relieved, so I stepped out on the balcony to enjoy the view and not disturb her nap.
I hung up after giving them the rundown of the flight and the hotel and how Monty was doing (I glossed over a lot and said she was doing fine), I sat on the chair and sipped the rest of the bottle of water. Not too shabby. I knew that this trip was making a rainbow from the absolute shittiest storm possible, but I had one goal for this trip: to force Monty to have some damn fun. I didn’t care what I had to do to make that happen.
She might have made plans, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve too, and she wasn’t going to know what hit her.
IT WAS NEARLY TIME for dinner when Monty woke up. Her eyes were puffy, but she looked a little less grim than she had when we’d first arrived.
“Good evening, sunshine. How was your nap?”
She looked around the room and had such a confused expression on her face that I couldn’t handle it.
“What time is it?” she croaked, running a hand through her hair. She’d slept with it down, so it was just all over the place. Monty normally braided her hair at night since it was so long and got so chaotic if she didn’t.
“Almost six-thirty. Are you hungry?”
She sat up and leaned against the pillows.
“Just give me a few minutes to get my bearings. I think I might want a shower first, even if we don’t go anywhere.”
I turned on the TV and flipped around while she hopped in the shower and changed her clothes. When she came back into the room, she looked a lot fresher, and I could tell her mood was better.
“We could go down to the restaurant here, if you didn’t want to venture anywhere else.” I’d already changed from the clothes I’d had on earlier, so I was good to go.
“Sounds good.” I watched as she braided her damp hair without thought and spun it into a perfect loose bun on the back of her head. Her dress fluttered in the air conditioning as she slipped her sandals on.
“It’s the first dinner of bestfriendimoon. Let’s do this,” I said, linking her arm with mine.
“You’re going to make bestfriendimoon into a whole big thing, aren’t you?” she said, giving me side-eye as we walked down the hallway toward the elevator.
“There might be t-shirts and other memorabilia,” I said, and her eyes went wide.
“Please don’t say that Donny made shirts.” My brother Donny was an incredible artist and enjoyed designing t-shirts and other promotional items as a hobby. He’d done the sign for the antique store, and every year for Pride he made new shirts for the whole family that we wore at the parade.
“I