And then I turn the card over.
When I read what’s written by hand on the back of the card, my whole body lights up. Heat prickles from my toes all the way up my spine. Parts of my body throb that should not be throbbing at this moment.
This can’t be real. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.
But what do I know? I don’t know this man. And…he did.
“Oh my god…” I breathe.
“What is it?” Addie replies from the sofa.
“Uhm, nothing… I just, um, nearly cut myself trying to trim these flowers, that’s all.”
But that was the wrong thing to say, as now Addie is rushing over to me. “I’ll help!”
I have to make this card disappear. I can’t let her see it. But damn these pajamas. No pockets, and I’m not wearing a bra. I don’t want to throw it away, even though I should. Without thinking, I surreptitiously stuff the card down the front my undies.
Addie sees nothing, but insists on taking over the trimming of the rose stems and arranging the bouquet in the vase for me.
We continue chattering about the silly drama on The Bachelor.
But all I can think about is the fact that something Mr. Rushmore touched—his card—is now resting against my skin, down inside my undies. And the fact that it’s so hot down there, it might spontaneously combust.
6
Rushmore
Feeling like a lovelorn teenager, I stare at my phone, waiting for her text. Major difference: I’m not in a school uniform and I’m not mooning over a girl from across the library.
Last night was closing night of the summer theater program and it’s now Sunday afternoon. Still no contact from Hunter.
I’m starting to feel pathetic.
And no Rushmore is ever made to feel pathetic.
What grown-ass 39-year-old man in a bespoke suit who runs the top hotel and resort company in the nation spends this much mental energy trying not to think about a woman? It should be easy to keep someone out of my thoughts.
I’m currently sitting in my family’s flagship hotel, in the top floor conference room, which overlooks the city. The board chairman called a special meeting of the directors—on a Sunday, no less—so he can make a pitch about why the company headquarters should be moved to New York City. It’s the same boring push every time I see his face. I’ve heard it all before, and it holds no interest for me.
He begins his speech theatrically, even bringing out charts and graphs. “I called us here today because a situation has come up. The Chinese investors who’ve approached me are ready to pour massive amounts of resources and virgin waterfront land into our company. We could build so many new properties from the ground up and do everything our own way, rather than mess around restoring old musty resorts on the decline.”
Enough members of the board understand my and my father’s commitment to this city and the people we employ.
“Mr. Rushmore’s family founded this company here, and it stays here. This company is practically the lifeblood of this town,” says one board member. I don’t register which one because I’m so preoccupied by my phone screen. My eyes keep cutting to it, waiting for a response.
Is it possible she didn’t see the card yet?
Maybe she saw it and was so scandalized, she tossed it in the trash? Burned it?
I thought I’d struck a balance between provocative yet earnest with what I had written on the card. Some might call it cute, even. But what do I know; I don’t do cute.
I need to calm down.
One thing is for sure, I’m out of practice. Ridley’s mother wasted no time before hopping back into the dating world. As much as we’ve grown to detest each other’s personality, I wish her the best. I wish I knew her secret to being so carefree and happy.
Maybe those monthly child support and alimony checks help with that, I think ruefully.
Hunter’s text lights up my phone and immediately whips me away from thoughts of where I went wrong with my life. I grab it up and have to twist my lips to keep my mouth from grinning broadly.