As soon as the front door closed behind me, I kicked off my uncomfortable shoes. "Those suck," I scowled down at the offending red shoes.
"They're not even high heels," Pete laughed.
It was nice to be home again. "I'm going to change my clothes," I announced. Without waiting for a reply, I skipped away to my room.
Getting new clothes was necessary but I was glad it was over. Now I could concentrate on more important things.
Throwing my bag on the bed, I moved across the room to the hourglass. I flicked the cool glass with one finger. "Stupid fucking thing."
My phone dinged suddenly. It was a message from Pete. Looking at the screen, I realized there were several messages and missed calls from earlier. They all just wanted to know where I was. Scrolling down to the bottom, I read the one he had just sent.
Pete: I went shopping with your cousin. She's weird.
Me: I know.
Pete: But she's alright.
Pete: Where are you right now? Are you ok?
"Sorry Petey." I put my phone into a drawer by my bed. "I can't tell you that."
Pete was in the kitchen when I went back out. We had just eaten, why was he cooking again? "What are you doing?" I asked, sliding onto one of the bar stools.
"I put a roast on this morning," he nodded with his chin towards a crock pot. "I'm adding vegetables to it." He cut a raw potato into small cubes and put it in the pot.
"I didn't know you could cook; Nick never told me."
"I'm not surprised," he flashed a grin. "Nick is never home."
"Does that piss you off?" Pete always played it cool before and said it didn't matter to him what I did; now was the perfect time to see if that was really the truth.
Pete shrugged his impressive shoulders. "Not really."
"But a little?" I pressed, eager to hear him admit the truth. He hated when I hooked up with different women. His jealousy was a little bit flattering.
He paused mid slice through a carrot. "Honestly?"
I nodded.
"I'm more mad that he doesn't have any confidence in himself."
What? People normally thought I had too much confidence. What was he talking about?
"Think about it." He opened the fridge and took out some more shit to cut up. "He goes from woman to woman before they have a chance to see who he really is."
"I think you're probably reading too much into it," I scowled. "He probably just likes sex." I pushed strands of hair away from my forehead. "That's why this hotel is a perfect place for him."
"Right." Pete's smile dripped with sarcasm. "Perfect place?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" It was rare for me to be so irritated with Pete; he always did everything for me so why would I have any reason to be? "The hotel is the family business."
"Nick never even wanted to go into the hotel business."
"Of course he did."
"It was forced on him by his family – no offense, but he hates it here. He always has." Pete leaned across the counter, his eyebrows still knitted closely together. "Nick likes art."
"Art?" I scoffed loudly. "Art is a hobby; it's not a job."
"You sound just like your grandfather." Pete didn't look angry, but I didn't like the way he was looking at me. "There are things he could have done if he was given the chance. He could have opened a gallery or..."
"What did you want to do?" I cut him off. If the hotel was forced on me, I had dragged him into it too.
The Macey Kay hotel chain; named after a grandmother that I never got to meet. When I turned twenty-five, grandpa gave me the same deal as he did for every male in my family. Take a floundering hotel and make it work again. Three years was the deadline – sink or swim. If I succeeded, I got the hotel and whatever else I wanted in the business; if I failed, I worked for the old man. Honestly, it wasn't a good deal – the risk was too high – but I knew it was coming. And I knew I didn't have a choice.
"What did I want to do?" Pete echoed my question back to me. "I wanted to make money." His eyelid sank down into a lazy wink.
~
I sucked in a deep breath and let it back out as I paced the short distance across my bedroom floor. It was late enough that I definitely should be sleeping, but my eyes refused to close. At first I thought it was because of that glowing hourglass that sat on my desk, then my thoughts circled back to the conversation with Pete.
I didn't like how he was talking about Nick – about me.
He said I didn't take things seriously.
I walked forward three steps.
He said I played too much.
I took another few steps.
My cell phone buzzed against the stand. Plucking it out of the drawer, I saw that Pete had sent a text just now.
Pete: Are you still awake?
I took a deep breath and typed out a one word reply. "Yeah."