Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“I can’t wait,” I say, squeezing her tight. I hold on to her a little longer. I’ve been so lucky seeing her grow up, hanging out with her multiple times a week and watching her turn from a baby, to a little girl, and now as she transitions into a bigger girl with opinions about everything and a genuine warmth that she gets from her mummy.
I just thought I’d have a chance to get off the sidelines and be a parent to a daughter or a son. I’m important to Daphne and William, I know I am. But quite rightly, I’m just never going to be the most important person to them.
I swallow, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat.
Daphne releases me and she slides down to the ground. Her hand finds mine and she yanks me into her bedroom, and my phone slips from my hand onto the floor.
I turn, and as Darcy bends to pick it up, it starts to ring.
“Oh, it’s a US number,” Darcy says with a frown. “But no name.” Both Scarlett and Ryder have US mobile numbers, as that’s where they’re based, but obviously I have their names in my phone.
“It’s about a job,” I explain. I’ve taken to ignoring the calls I’ve been getting from Hotel on Ninth Street. It’s flattering how much they’ve been calling, but I’ve realized that when I pick up, they see that as a sign I’d be interested in working for them, even though I’ve told them I’m not.
“A job?”
Daphne tugs at my hand and I tumble after her. Darcy follows us both.
“Come and see what I’ve done to my Troll house,” Daphne says. She’s currently Troll crazy. Next week she might be back on the Labubu train. There’s always an obsession, but they’re switched out pretty easily.
“What kind of job?” Darcy asks, as we both sit in the beanbags in Daphne’s room and she shows us how she’s transformed her dolls’ house into a Trolls’ house. I’m here for it.
“At a hotel. Hotel on Ninth Street. I’d never heard of it, but why would I? It’s not like I’ve ever been to New York.”
“So, they’re head hunting you?” she asks.
I hadn’t thought of it like that. “I guess. The owners both stayed at The Rookery for a wedding for one of their friends. I only vaguely remember meeting them.” I’ve worked at The Rookery for as long as I can remember. It started off as a weekend job, and then when I left for university, I would spend the summers there. I’d waitress or join housekeeping—whatever they needed. The hotel is close to my parents’ place, so it was convenient.
It was supposed to be temporary.
Over the years, I’ve been promoted. I’m now director of rooms. So basically I’m responsible for everything that’s not food and beverage, spa or activities. I’ve been told that I’m on track to be hotel manager.
I never thought things would work out this way. I never expected to go back to The Rookery after I graduated from university. A lot of people went to London after graduation. I had a couple of interviews. But I’d just come home after being away for three years. I’d missed Chilternshire and Woolton. I wasn’t ready to leave again.
“Wow, that’s flattering,” she says.
“I suppose it is.”
“So they’re opening a hotel in the UK?”
“No, they want me to go to New York.”
Darcy’s jaw drops—and then she bursts into laughter.
Something about her reaction irritates me. Not because she thinks they’re joking; she knows they’re not.
“They don’t know you very well if they think you’d ever move to New York,” she says.
I suppose Darcy’s right.
Other than university, I’ve never lived outside the village where I was born. Why on earth would anyone think I’d move to New York—a city thousands of miles away, that I’ve never even visited?
Apparently, the owners of Hotel on Ninth Street do.
TWO
Aurora
Despite it being the hottest May on record in this part of the country, my one-bedroom cottage is freezing. Scientists should study this place, because no matter how long or high I have on the central heating, no matter the time of year, I always have to wear socks and two jumpers. It doesn’t make any logical sense.
At least I slept in. Darcy and Logan were out late. I woke up in front of Bridgerton with them hammering on the door because they’d forgotten their keys. They always say I can stay, but I always opt to come home. I feel like I spend enough time with them anyway. I have space in my life, but I worry, if it’s all filled with Darcy and Logan, William and Daphne, and Ryder and Scarlett and their two children, there wouldn’t be room for anyone else if my Prince Charming did come along.
So I try to create a world for myself, however small.