Page 25 of Love Delayed
By the time I sat down at my desk to take the call that had been holding for me, the light was no longer blinking. A long-winded guest had held me up with their complaining about our breakfast staff needing to be re-trained on cooking over-easy eggs. I wanted to yell, “Just don’t eat the damn eggs,” but that would have been unprofessional. So, I let him continue to bore me with egg-cooking techniques to keep the yoke runny and warm. After I gave him and the wife free breakfast vouchers for the rest of their stay, the old man was satisfied enough to leave the front desk.
I was anxious to return to my office because I had gotten a glimpse of her name on the caller ID, but my heart dropped when I saw she had hung up. I went back to the front desk and snatched up the phone to check the caller ID. Instantly, I remembered the seven digits as I realized she still had a 312-area code. After telling my front desk manager not to disturb me unless the building was on fire, I returned to my office, shut my door, sat at my desk, and quickly dialed her number. The phone rang five times. I was afraid she wouldn’t answer, but then, I heard her voice.
“Hey, Marcus,” she said softly.
I could hear the sadness in her voice, but considering the recent events in her life, I wasn’t surprised.
“Hey, how are things? I’m sorry to keep you holding so long, but you must remember the stories I’ve told you about complaining-ass guests.”
She laughed lightly. “And I remember how we said we’d never be those guests.”
“Exactly. How are you holding up, babe?” I asked with genuine concern. “Mentally, physically…you can talk to me, Zee.”
“I’m just doing the best I can, Marc. I mean, I have moments when I can accept it because I know Abba is good and has His reasons. Then, there are times when I scream to the top of my lungs. It’s up and down, but at this very moment, I feel better.”
“I’m happy to hear that, Zee, and if you need anything––a getaway, spa day, or just need to pack a bag and come to the hotel for some time alone, I can arrange that.”
“I know, Marcus. That’s why I called you. After telling Evan about the miscarriage, he expressed wanting the house and wanting me out. I don’t give a damn about him wanting this house. It holds too many bad memories for me, and honestly, I want to leave as soon as I can. So, I was wondering if you could put me at one of your hotels for a discounted rate. It will only be for a couple of months until I can settle my divorce or find a rental. I’m willing to pay. I just need to get out of this place. I can’t stand to be here another night,” she cried.
“Zee, please don’t cry, and of course. Get dressed and meet me at Royalty. And if you need help packing and moving, I can get someone to help you with that. No worries, okay? Just come now, and we can talk in person. I’ll get you all squared away.”
“Thank you, Marc. I’ll be there in about three hours. I need to check on my business first, and then I’ll be on my way.”
“I’ll be here waiting for you,” I told her.
After we ended the call, I quickly sprang into action. I tracked down my two housekeeping managers and supervisors. Once I told them what I needed, they immediately got two of the housekeeping staff members and got busy preparing the penthouse for Zamora’s arrival. It only took them an hour and a half to clear the dust and freshen up the space that hadn’t been occupied in four years. It was where I had spent my childhood, and although my family had plans to put it back in the inventory to rent, we never did.
After thoroughly inspecting the penthouse, I headed back to my office and saw I had a message from Zamora. She would be arriving a little later because she had some things that needed to be taken care of at her place of business. I decided to text her from my cell phone, assuming the number she had called me from was her cell phone. When she replied, I knew I had assumed right.
I went back to manager mode, and before long, it was after five. I checked my phone–– nothing from Zamora. Just when I was about to dial her, I got a call on my radio.
“Boss, come to the desk. She’s here,” my front desk agent said, sounding annoyed.
“Copy. On my way,” I replied, wondering the reason for her tone.
As I approached the lobby, I noticed Eliana standing there, and my heart damn near stopped.She never stops by, so what inthe hell prompted this visit?I told myself to keep cool as I walked toward her.
“Hey, baby,” I said, pulling her in for a hug and quick peck, not wanting her lipstick on my lips.
“Hey, I know you’re working hard, so I decided to bring you some dinner,” she said, holding up a bag from a restaurant I had never heard of.
I was a Chicago native and knew all the bomb food spots, so I was sure I did not want what she had in that bag.
“Baby, you know we have a full kitchen, and I eat here,” I reminded her.
“I know, but can we talk in your office?” she asked while side-eyeing my three front desk agents.
They were nosey, for sure, so I agreed. When I closed the door, she continued.
“So here is what I’m thinking, babe. We should meal prep together on Sundays. I know you love your meats, and I’m down with the protein. But now that we are getting married, I think you should cut out starches. I mean, I can give you all the meat and veggies you want, but no more carbs and starches,” she announced cheerfully.
“Woman, are you crazy? Have you lost your mind? Since when do we suggest or even tell each other what to eat? I respect your clean eating, baby, but we are not doing this, okay? If I do what you say and stop eating the things my mother loves to cook for me, I’ll be a dead man anyway. So, no, there will be no changes to Marc’s diet.”
“Honey, don’t say that. I’m going to be your wife, and as your wife, I want you to live a long life,” she whined, pouting.
“Eli, I can’t with you right now, baby. I’m working and want to get out of here at a decent hour tonight, so take your meatless, carb-less, starchless food home and enjoy it, babe. I’m going to grab something here before the kitchen closes, and I’ll be by your place tonight,” I calmly said, but I was cussing her out in Spanish in my head.
Before she could grab the bag, my phone buzzed, and when I saw the text from Zamora saying she was pulling up, I tried hard not to panic. Not wanting them to see each other, I told Eliana to have a seat and wait for me to come back. At first, she protested, saying she was going to leave. But when I said I would try whatever was in the bag if she allowed me to take care of something out front, she agreed and sat down.