“It’s definitely an apology,” I say, embarrassment quieting my voice. Astrid’s smile fades slightly, and she leans in closer.
“Then I have the perfect thing,” she whispers, and starts walking in the direction I’ve just come from.
I follow her, doubting I’ll send Ryan any gift I pick up. But since my mother’s death I haven’t had another woman to talk to. Maybe for a moment I can pretend that I do. I blink quickly to avoid the onset of tears, sniffing them away before Astrid stops in front of the decorative jars and chocolate boxes.
“He’s not really the vanilla-candle sort of guy,” I say, glancing sideways. Astrid reaches past me to grab a white box of chocolates from the shelf and then holds it out. I take the box hesitantly but shake my head. “Ryan won’t eat these,” I tell her. “He’s super anal about his diet. High protein. Low carb. No sugar.” I put the box back on the shelf and am surprised to find Astrid smiling at me.
“They’re not for him,” she says, grabbing the box again and heading toward the register with it. “They’re for you.”
“Me?”
Astrid slides behind the counter and pulls out a paper bag with “The Hotel Ruby” written across it in red. She slips the chocolates inside and then rings them up. I stare at her like she’s crazy. When I don’t take out money to pay her, she leans against the register.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she says, in way of explanation. “Just let it go, hon.”
“Not to sound rude,” I begin, “but I actually do owe him a lot. A hell of a lot more than a box of chocolates.”
“That may be,” she says, her expression growing serious. “But life has a way of balancing things out. Is he here with you?”
“No. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”
Astrid reaches to put her hand over mine. “See?” She turns back to the register like she’s just made a powerful statement, but I’m a little confused. Forcing a bonding moment with a random cashier probably wasn’t an inspired idea.
Well, at least she grabbed the salted caramel flavor chocolates. They’re my favorite. I glance around the counter one last time and notice the postcards. One catches my attention, and I pluck it off the plastic rack. It’s a painted portrait of the Hotel Ruby, the massive front doors and leaded windows. The golden lights shining on the trees, setting off the entire scene in magic. “Stay Tonight. Stay Forever” is typed in black on the side.
“Astrid,” I say, sliding the postcard across the counter. “Can you add this in?”
She flicks her eyes to the picture and then to me, seeming slightly annoyed that I’m not taking her advice to “let it go.” She rings up the card and shoves it into the bag with the chocolates, telling me the total. I hand over a few bills, and while waiting for the change, I see the other employee has finished stocking the shelves. There’s an empty cart sitting there, but he’s gone.
“Here you go,” Astrid says, holding up the bag. I thank her as I take my items, then start for the door, already thinking about what I’ll write to Ryan on the postcard. “And hon,” the cashier calls. I turn back to look at her, and she smiles. “Welcome to the Ruby.”
Upstairs I shower and put on makeup. As I get ready, I open the box of chocolates and pop a piece into my mouth. The first bite is sweet and rich, but as I continue to chew, there’s an aftertaste that reminds me of turned milk.
“Bleh,” I say, opening my mouth to let the chocolate fall into the trash can with a thunk. I rinse out my mouth and then inspect the box, trying to see if there’s an expiration date. When I find nothing strange, I close up the box and dump the entire thing in the garbage. “That was a waste,” I say, clicking off the bathroom light and heading back into my room.
I sit on my bed and bring the room service menu onto my lap. The postcard lies next to me on the comforter. I grab the pen from the nightstand and blow out a steadying breath. Leaning back against the pillows, I move the postcard onto the menu so I can write.
But after close to twenty minutes the words won’t come. They’re too big, too broad, to fit in the stroke of a pen. Maybe Astrid was right—I should let it go. Every minute I sit here, I regret more, and the guilt is threatening to eat me up. In an attempt to cut off the pain, I quickly scratch a message on the postcard and sign it.
I’m sorry for everything.
—Audrey
When I’m done, I hop up from the bed, tucking the postcard into my back pocket, and slip on my sandals. I’ll take this down to the front desk and have them mail it. And then I’ll be done. It’ll be over. I’ll let it be over.
Afterwards I’ll keep my eyes out for Elias, the gorgeous distraction. I have no plans of pulling a Daniel and hooking up with a stranger, but I definitely liked the guy in the suit. I think he sort of liked me, too. It’s nice to feel attracted to somebody again.