Page 47 of Lonely Heart
Jules finished making Marco’s breakfast, both of us putting some money down on the counter for her—she refused to take any money from the family—before we said goodbye. The reliefI’d felt having cleared the air with my sister was short-lived, because as Marco and I walked away, my nerves built.
Whether he sensed it or not, I didn’t know, but Marco was the first to speak. “Look, Ivy, I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since you shared what you did the other day, and?—”
“Marco!”
At the sound of his name being called, Marco spun around. I did the same, and our eyes landed on my dad, who was moving swiftly in our direction. We waited as he closed the distance, and when he came to a stop in front of us, he said, “I’m so glad I caught you. Where are you two headed?”
“I came to get breakfast from Jules, and Ivy happened to be here,” Marco shared. “Ivy’s heading back to the hotel to work, and I’m going that way to get to work on the villas.”
“Perfect. I’ll join you. I’ve been wanting to check them out.”
Marco gave him a nod and a smile. “Sure.” His sorrowful eyes landed on mine for a brief moment, and the three of us fell into step again.
My dad filled the silence, asking me about how things were going at the hotel and the events I had coming up in the next few weeks. He also spoke with Marco about the specific progress he was making on the villas. Before I knew it, we’d arrived at the hotel, and all I could do was wave to them both as I returned to work.
Marco and I didn’t get a chance later that day to catch up again.
A few days later, nearly the same thing happened when I’d been standing at the front desk at the lobby when Marco walked in. It was so early in the morning, I was certain we would finally have the opportunity to have a discussion, but no sooner had he walked up to me and opened his mouth to speak, Wyatt walked through the front door, and I had to stop Marco before he even started.
My oldest brother had decided to stop over to see me before heading to his own office in the office building on the Westwood’s campus, because he wanted to discuss Rhea’s birthday gift with me.
Her birthday wasn’t until the end of March, so he had plenty of time, but apparently, he was insistent upon getting started early.
Marco excused himself to head out to work, and I spent the next hour talking to my brother about his plans for his wife’s birthday, plans he’d already done a great job of figuring out on his own.
Timing over the last couple of days just hadn’t worked out well for us, but I was hopeful this was our moment. Because I wasn’t quite sure how much more of this I could take.
It was just after lunch, and Marco had walked back into the hotel. I’d seen him when he left not quite an hour ago, but we’d been swamped at the front desk. I didn’t typically step in to help there unless it was bad, so when Marco looked in my direction and saw how crazy it was, he sent a frustrated but sympathetic look my way.
Things had gotten a bit better while he was gone, and I’d sent off different members of my front desk staff to take their breaks.
So, when Marco strolled back in following his break, I was helping the only guest left in the lobby. He noticed, decided this would be the perfect opportunity, and casually made his way to the far end of the front desk.
As quickly as I could, I got everything sorted for the guests’ reservation. But just as they turned to head toward the elevator—me taking a step in Marco’s direction—they turned around and the woman said, “I’m sorry. I have one more question about the tours.”
“Sure. What can I help you with?”
The guest went on to ask her question, and I quickly answered her. But by the time I sent her off again, I turned and looked to my right. I expected to see Marco standing there, waiting for me.
And while he was waiting there, he was no longer alone.
Tate had shown up and was talking with him.
If I didn’t think they’d both hear me and believe I’d lost my mind, I would have screamed. Why was it this difficult for Marco and me to get just a few minutes of uninterrupted time together? Why couldn’t we just have a single conversation without constant disruptions?
My head dropped back, I balled my hands into fists, and I clenched my jaw. I wasn’t even sure this was frustration at this point. It felt like some cruel, twisted joke. I let out another sigh, felt a headache coming on, and dropped my head forward.
Tate’s back was to me as he leaned an arm on the counter. Marco had been paying attention to Tate, but when I sent my stare in their direction, he noticed. And I could see the apology in his eyes.
My brother must have realized Marco was no longer paying attention to him, because he stopped speaking and turned around. Concern littered his features as I made my way over to them.
“Hey, is everything okay? You look upset or angry or something. What’s going on?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Something’s wrong.”
I couldn’t very well tell Tate precisely what my problem was—that I wanted just ten minutes to talk to Marco alone—so I had to come up with a lame excuse. “It’s just… it’s been a long couple of days, and today has been the worst of it.”