"Right, right," Brock said, his voice dripping with teasing sarcasm, "just friends."
“Uncle B, come on." Duncan was blushing furiously, giving his uncle a don't do this to me glare. "For real. We're just friends."
"OH LOOK," I said too loudly, "RAQUEL AND HAMISH HAVE A CAB."
I scuttled away, hauling my hard-sided roller suitcase behind me, my carry-on duffel smacking the small of my back, while my purse flounced at my hip; I'm not running, you're running.
Duncan and Brock did the manly handshake-and-hug thing, and then Duncan slung a sleek black leather duffel bag over one shoulder and followed after me. He caught up as I was heaving my bags into the trunk of the taxi van.
"Sorry about Uncle Brock being nosy," he murmured to me. "My family has no sense of personal boundaries."
"It's all good," I said. "No worries. I've got nosy family too."
He caught my hand after I closed the hatch. “Hey. About us being just friends…I hope you understand I only meant—"
"Duncan," I said, cutting in over him. "It's the truth. We're just friends. We may have, um…messed around a bit," I leaned closer to him, "and probably will some more before the weekend is over, but we both know this is…" I trailed off with a shrug.
"It has a built-in expiration date," Duncan answered, although he didn't sound entirely thrilled.
"Exactly." I took one of his hands. "Look, Duncan. I…I do like you. A lot. I just…I've been away from LA for more than two months. After finding out about Hayes, I sort of left town and never went back. But I…my family is there. My condo is there. My life is there. I have to go home."
He sighed heavily, nodding. "I know. I get it. And it's cool. I mean, a part of me does wish we could spend more than just this weekend together, but you have to go home. And I need to focus on running the Kitty. Dad and Delia took a risk trusting me as the GM, and I'm not about to let them down, especially not because I'm getting distracted." His eyes widened. "Not that you're a distraction, I just meant—"
I laughed, putting a hand over his mouth. "Relax, I know what you meant, Duncan. It's okay. We both know this is what it is, and we both have lives to get back to. In the meantime, we can have fun with each other and know that when it's time to go our separate ways, it's with mutual respect and understanding. Yeah?"
He grinned. “Yeah. Exactly."
Raquel leaned out of the open sliding door. "Hey, you two. C'mon. We need to check in and then go meet the manager of the venue."
The hotel was either newly built or freshly remodeled—there was a strong smell of fresh paint in the lobby, and men in construction gear wandered around in pairs and groups. Raquel and Hamish were already at the check-in desk, conversing with the receptionist.
"Our manager heard about the reason you guys are here," the receptionist said—she was a young woman, possibly Inuit or the like, based on her skin, hair, and facial tattoos. "He has upgraded your reservation to the penthouse suite, on us."
Raquel seemed like she was about to start crying. "Oh my god, that's so kind of you. Thank you so much!”
A few minutes later, a bellhop or whatever they're called these days was escorting the couple up to their room, and Duncan and I took our place at the desk.
"What's the name the reservation is under?" she asked, addressing us both.
"Oh, um, it should be two separate ones," Duncan answered. "One under Badd, B-A-D-D, and the other under Rigby." He glanced at me. "Right? R-I-G-B-Y?"
I nodded. “Right. I made my reservation the same day as they did," I said, indicating Raquel and Hamish where they waited at a bank of elevators.
"I made mine the day after," Duncan said. "If it matters."
There was a long moment of silence punctuated only by sporadic typing, and then the receptionist frowned at us. "Um, hmm. I see your reservations here, but there's been a bit of an issue."
Duncan sighed. "I see. And what is the issue?"
She waved at the construction workers swarming the lobby. "We're finishing some renovations, as you see, and with the rest of the wedding party all making reservations at the same time…" she typed some more. "We've oversold, unfortunately. A whole floor is under construction at the moment—it was supposed to be done by now, but there's been some delays."
"So…what?" I asked. "You're saying there's not enough rooms?"
She gave a simpering, apologetic smile. "Unfortunately, yes. We only have one room available."
Duncan and I exchanged glances.
"So…" Duncan raked a hand through his hair. "There's no other solution? You've only got one room left in the whole hotel? When I called, no one said anything about renovations. I was told there would be plenty of rooms."
