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all day. My heart freezes, but my eyes drift to the long legs they’re attached to.
    Oh, God.
    There’s a woman in perfectly hip-hugging pants, insanely impractical heels, and a shirt that is a blessing to her already gorgeous body—and those breasts have never had a baby nursing on them. They are perfect, and they are in Grayson’s hotel room.
    I’m going to puke.
    “Hey, down there—you okay?” she asks with a phone pressed to her ear. She lifts a finger, wordlessly asking me to give her a minute.
    I jump up, fumbling, spin to the door, check that it’s the right number—it is—and turn back on shaking legs.
    She’s pretty. Kind of gorgeous. But she isn’t talking to anyone. The one-minute finger points to her cell and she mouths voicemail . Then she says, “Hey, I’m here to surprise you! See ya. Love ya. Bye.” She expels an exasperated breath, spins around in an outfit I can only describe as date-worthy, and smiles. “Come in, please—”
    “I’m sorry, I have the wrong room.” I back up until I stumble against the wall then numbly reach for the door as though exiting this nightmare might help.
    “Nope, right room. I’m the one that keeps calling housekeeping.” Her accent screams Southern belle, and she tosses her hand as if she’s throwing out casual information. She smiles perfectly glossy lips. “I called before, but nothing changed, so I had to call again.”
    “What…?” Me, housekeeping? I have no idea what’s going on. But I glance at my waitressing clothes, and they could totally be taken for a housekeeping uniform.
    “The air conditioner stinks like sulfur or something, and trust me, that’s a smell Grayson can’t handle. Plus, I don’t think I could sleep with it.” She leans forward as if she’s telling a secret. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”
    I’m dizzy. My words won’t come. She knows things I don’t know. She leaves messages I’m too timid to leave. I love you.
    “Can’t you smell it? It might just be near the bed.” She walks away from me.
    Unsteadily and stupidly, I take a step forward toward a king-sized bed. A military green duffel bag and a small pink suitcase sit by the bathroom door. “You can’t…”
    “He has a condition. Sulfur really doesn’t help. The bed doesn’t even look slept in. I don’t think he even stayed here last night.”
    My stomach lurches. “How do you know him?”
    “What?” Her eyebrows pinch. “He’s my fiancé.”
    “Oh, God.” Why did I assume all this time had passed, and he hadn’t been in a relationship? Even if I’d thought of that, it never would have occurred to me he’d still be in one.
    “I’m sorry.” Her face tightens, confused. “Are you okay?”
    Behind me there’s a click-click of the door unlocking. My legs are stuck like columns of cement. I can’t bend my knees, can’t run away. Somehow I pivot. Grayson’s face is dark and brooding, and his eyes aren’t on me. They go straight to her. My mouth goes dry, and my hands tremble.
    “Gray!” she squeals.
    Gray? My dream of the future shatters a million times over.
    She throws her arms out. “Surprise!”
    “Shit, Mazie,” he growls.
    Confirmation. He knows her. That’s all I need. My legs come back, and even if my mind’s reeling, I can run. I push pass Grayson, sprinting down the hall, skipping down the stairs.
    “Emma! Wait!”
    But I don’t. I can hear Grayson continue to call after me.
    At the base of the stairs, Jessie giggles, only increasing my shame. “Have a good night, Emma.”
    Devastated tears streak down my cheeks, and I’m thankful I didn’t park at the hotel. I skip behind the building so no one can find me then weave to my car, which is parked on the street.
    Finally, I reach the safety of my Jeep and climb into the driver’s seat. Tears blur my vision, and I reach to the center console for tissues. Coming up without, I do find a drawing Cally made last week. The scribbles and scrawl are supposed to be our new house