“Oh my God, I almost forgot to tell you what happened last night.” She sits up straighter. “This woman in her forties, totally put together, Chanel bag, perfect hair, comes to the front desk, asking for her husband’s room key. Says she’s surprising him for their anniversary.”
I wince. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Evelyn nods. “So protocol says I need to call the room, but she begged me not to spoil the surprise. She was so sweet about it that—”
“You didn’t.”
“I did! I gave her the key,” she groans, covering her face with her hands. “Twenty-five minutes later, security calls down because there’s a disturbance on the sixth floor.”
“Let me guess, no anniversary surprise?” I ask, pretending to be shocked.
“Not unless you count the surprise of finding your husband with his twenty-something assistant,” Evelyn says. “By the time I got up there, she’d already thrown the ice bucket and all his clothes off the balcony, and was in the process of destroying his laptop with the hotel phone.”
I burst out laughing. “No way.”
“The poor security was standing there, lost for words. The husband was trying to cover himself with a pillow while the assistant was hiding in the bathroom.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do? I just stood there, saying, Ma’am, please put the phone down, while secretly thinking,Get him, girl.”
I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts. “Did you get in trouble?”
“Yeah, the manager wrote me up for not following protocol, but then the wife comes over, totally calm now, hands me a hundred-dollar tip and says, ‘Thank you for the anniversary gift of freedom.”
“Wow, that’s insane,” I say, shaking my head.
“On the bright side, the woman broke a piece of art from the hotel, and I offered to replace it with one of mine,” she says with a wink. “Free marketing.”
I tap the side of my head. “Smart thinking. We poor folks have to get creative.”
My phone chimes and Evelyn leans over. “Is that him?”
I shrug, but my pulse rises at the possibility. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I see his name. “Yes. He’s asking for a picture of the house.”
She smirks, pointing. “Send him one of the room. Really sell the ‘mess’ you’re making.”
I nod, loving her idea, snapping a photo and sending it without a caption.
He replies immediately.
Oliver:Never pictured you to be a liar.
Me:You really wouldn’t care if I trashed your house?
Oliver:Of course I’d care, but I know you wouldn’t do it. Plus, I'd be offended if you partied without me.
Me:I forgot that you are a party guy.
Oliver:Was! I’m a married man now.
I feel a twinge of satisfaction at his response.
Me:Good to know. How’s the trip going?
Oliver:It’s actually great. I’m spending time with my dad, brothers, and friends. We haven’t done anything like this since we were kids.
Me:Then I won’t keep you. Have fun.
