Leah
As soon as Matthew opened the door, I collapsed into his arms, finally releasing the hot tears I'd been holding back the entire drive to his apartment.
I couldn't think straight. Hadn't been able to since Drew told me Matthew had been suspended because of me.
"Hey, hey, hey... what's wrong?" Matthew asked, his voice so gentle it made everything worse.
He still cared about me. Even after my stupid, reckless actions cost him his job.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" I sobbed against his chest, holding him tight.
"Leah..." He wrapped his arms around me, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back. "It's not your fault. You did what you thought was right."
"Matt," I pulled back to look at him, and my voice caught in my throat.
His eyes were filled with concern. No anger nor resentment. Just pure, undeserved worry for me.
It made me feel a thousand times worse.
"You have a little daughter, Matt. You can't afford to not have a job!" My voice broke on the last word.
He reached up and cupped my face, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. "I'm a handyman, remember?" He gave me a small smile. "I can make ends meet."
There he went again. Always trying to make me feel better when I should be the one comforting him.
"No, no, no! It's not nearly enough, Matt. The hotel pays you well." I stepped back, shaking my head. "You should hate me."
I turned to leave, unable to bear his kindness another second, but he caught my wrist and pulled me back.
"I could never hate you, Leah. Never." He reached up and caressed my cheek again. "You've come to mean so much to Chloe and me. My daughter wouldn't have climbed out of her shell if you hadn't come into our lives. I could never hate you."
I stared up at him, stunned.
This man had every reason to despise me. I should be on my hands and knees begging for his forgiveness. Instead, he was consoling me.
"Matt, I can't live with this. I have to go back to the hotel. I have to talk to Mr. T, even if it means losing my job."
"I can't let you do that." He pulled me closer. "Leah, I haven't been fired, just suspended until they finish their investigation. One of the bellboys saw me attack the guest and reported it."
"Why wasn't I suspended too? I attacked him first!"
"No one saw you do it," Matthew said. "It was just you and him in that room."
Mr. T most likely had let it go. He could have reported me, gotten me fired, maybe even had me arrested. But he hadn't.
"Matt, I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Leah..." His voice dropped lower, something shifting in his expression. His eyes clouded over with an emotion I couldn't quite read. "I can't bear to see you cry. It hurts me."
"Matt..."
He slowly wiped my cheeks, his gaze intense as it danced from my eyes to my lips.
"Leah, I..."
"Dad?" A tiny, sleepy voice interrupted from the hallway.
We both turned.
Chloe, Matthew's four-year-old daughter, shuffled into the small living room in her pajamas, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Then she looked up and saw me.
"Leah!" Her face lit up like sunshine, and she came running, her little feet making soft pattering sounds against the floor.
My heart clenched as she wrapped her tiny arms around my leg and squeezed tight.
I looked up at Matthew. He was staring down at his daughter with a smile, but beneath it, I could sense worry. Tension. Something unspoken hanging in the air between us.
Here's to another sleepless night, I thought. Yet another thing my stupid decisions have caused.
Just as I'd expected, sleep never came. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the night's events over and over. Matthew's face, his words, the way he'd looked at me.
How long would I keep reinforcing my resolve to talk to Mr. T, only to have everything explode in my face?
I tried Grandma's special broth, the one that usually knocked me out within an hour. But that night, even that failed.
I blinked, and suddenly it was morning.
I went through my entire day at school like a zombie, huge dark circles shadowing my eyes.
"Mum, you look terrible," Jason had told me over breakfast, his little face scrunched with worry.
The memory made me smile faintly as I walked into the hotel for another shift.
"Excuse me."
I was violently shoved aside, my shoulder slamming into the wall.
What the hell?
I caught myself from tripping and swung around, anger flaring hot in my chest.
Again, what the hell?
This was a staff area. What were guests doing back here? And why was I shoved like some obstacle in their way.
Two women swept past me without a backward glance. One was clearly in charge, older, elegant, dripping in wealth. The other trailed behind her clutching an iPad.
The older woman wore a cream designer suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Oversized black sunglasses perched on her nose despite being indoors. She was wealthy alright.
Her assistant was younger, dressed in a sharp black pencil skirt and blouse, her hair pulled back so tightly it looked painful.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I called out, stepping forward.
They ignored me completely.
"Ma'am..." I started again, then stopped myself.
I was already in trouble with one guest. Did I really need more problems?
Just then, I noticed something flutter to the ground. It was silk scarf in deep burgundy.
"Ma'am! You dropped your scarf," I called out, bending down to pick it up.
It was like I'd said a magic word.
The elegant woman stopped abruptly and turned. She pulled her sunglasses down slightly to get a better look at me.
When she saw me holding up the scarf, something flashed across her. She took several quick, graceful steps toward me, and when she reached me, her expression transformed into the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
"Thank you, child," she said warmly, taking the scarf from my hands.
Then her smile shifted into something sadder. "This was the last gift my late husband gave me before he passed," she said slowly.
Guilt pierced through my earlier annoyance. "Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am."
She nodded, then reached out and gently caressed my cheek, an oddly intimate gesture from a stranger. "I apologize for my assistant's behavior."
So they had heard me calling out.
"No problem, ma'am." I cleared my throat. "But this area is strictly for staff. Guests aren't allowed back here."
"She's the owner of this hotel," the assistant snapped,
The older woman held up a hand. "Fiona, behave." She turned back to me with that same warm smile. "It's quite all right, dear. Thank you for looking out for the place. It's staff like you we need around here."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said with a small smile.
She gave me one last smile, then turned and walked away, her assistant trailing behind.
I stood there for a moment, processing the strange encounter.
Was she really the owner?
But the question left my mind as quickly as it had formed, because the moment I turned toward the hallway leading into the main hotel, I saw him.
My nightmare.
Mr. T.
Standing at the end of the corridor, staring straight at me.