Page 60 of Love Marks

“I’m so glad I caught you. I keep getting your voicemail. I take it you’ve gotten my messages?”

“Maybe. One or two.”

“Great, so you’re aware that today I’m officially turning your bills over to a collections agency,” she says the words with no emotions, like they aren’t going to tear my life apart.

“Yeah. I think I heard that part,” I grumble.

“And you’re aware that failure to pay within the next six months could result in a potential lien on your assets and properties?”

Joke’s on you, Perky! It’s a renter’s economy. I don’t own anything.

“Yes.” I’m hissing the word out now.

“I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. You’ll be hearing from the agency. Best of luck.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

I’m standing outside the hotel when I hang up my phone and stuff it into my back pocket, furious. I toss my head back, look up at the sky, and sigh, blinking back tears. I must be PMSing the way I feel like crying at every little thing lately.

What’s next, universe?

“Hey.”

I’d recognize his deep, soothing voice anywhere, but we’re right outside the hotel, so it’s no surprise when I turn and see Wesley standing in front of me.

I blink, making sure there’s no tears left in my eyes. “Morning. You heading in or out?” I gesture towards the revolving doors.

“Out, actually. I have a meeting downtown,” he furrows his brow, staring down at me.

“Cool. See you later.” I start moving away from him towards the building.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, then turns and reaches out to stop me. “Wait. Did you say goodbye to Sheila?”

My stomach flutters at the physical contact of his hand on my arm, steadying me.

“Yeah. I did.” I shrug him off and force a wry smile. “It sucked.”

He frowns. “Do you want to talk about it? I can cancel my meeting.”

“No, no. Don’t do that. It’s fine.”

He nods, still frowning, but I don’t stick around for the rest of his reaction. “I’ll see you later.”

I rush inside to find Marguerite and apologize for missing so many days. When I finally do, she’s not pissed at all, but I have to go see Sharon, too. I spend most of the morning making up fake excuses about my illness until I’m finally upstairs gathering Wesley’s laundry.

I print out this week’s menu and leave it on Wesley’s desk while I wait for the dryer cycle to finish. After that, I scrub down the tub and the bathroom, and clean the kitchen. By the time I finish all that, the laundry is done, so I replace all the bedding and put all the clothes away.

I’m just about to get started on vacuuming when Wesley gets back. He slings his briefcase onto the kitchen counter and pours himself a glass of water.

“Hey,” I say to his back. I’m holding the vacuum awkwardly beside me because I don’t really want to start it while he’s in the room. “How was your meeting?”

He turns and meets my gaze and that feeling bubbles up inside me again. My eyes flicker down to his lips.

“It was good, actually. Thanks for asking.” He sets the glass down in front of him. He looks like he’s about to speak again when my phone buzzes loudly from the counter. I go over and see Pierre’s name flashing on the screen and I quickly silence it.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Wesley asks. He’s staring down at my phone.

“No.”