I asked the front desk for my car at ten past twelve.
Lena: The black one. My husband's account.
She typed for a while. Then she stopped typing.
"The cars are for hotel guests and account holders, Mrs. Ashby."
Lena: I'm on the account.
"You were." She turned the screen toward me like she wanted me to see it.
"Ms. Sloane updated the list this morning. I'm sorry."
Lena: Then call me a cab.
"Hotel cabs get billed to the room," she said. "Or the account."
My account. Which was his.
A man in a gray suit looked up from his phone and smiled at me. At me, not with me. Fuck him.
I got my own coat off the rack. It took three tries to get the hanger to let go.
So I sat down on the bench with the coat in my lap and stared at the wall.
The door opened. It was the man from the dinner. Charcoal suit, no tie.
Kellan: You didn't take the car.
Kellan: Only the interesting mornings get my attention. This one earned it.
Lena: You keep track of my mornings?
Kellan: Only the good ones. He sat down like the bench was a bar and he owned it.
Lena: This is a coat room.
Kellan: It's close enough.
Kellan: I heard something strange upstairs this morning.
Kellan: A woman told Grant Ashby she gets a boyfriend too. Out in the open. Same rules as his.
Lena: Who told you that?
Kellan: By noon, half the building had it. The other half is still on the phone about it.
Lena: Great. I'm a joke in two departments now.
Kellan: I'm Kellan. And I don't think you're funny.
Kellan: He told you to find one who'll have you. I heard that part too.
Lena: Then you heard the whole joke.
Kellan: You don't need one who'll have you. You need one he'll believe.
Kellan: I have a suit. I have a clean record. I don't like your husband.
Lena: You're offering.
Kellan: I'm offering.
I laughed. Not a polite one. A real one, straight out of my chest, loud enough that the coats moved.
Lena: You met me last night. Why?
Kellan: Because he fucked another woman in front of forty people and made you smile about it.
Kellan: I've watched men like that my whole life. I'm tired of it.
Lena: That's not a reason. That's a mood.
Kellan: Then ask me what I want later. Right now, ask yourself what he'd do if you walked out of here with me.
And there it was. A picture in my head. His face, the one he makes when something gets taken from him.
Lena: Look at me. You think he'd believe anyone wants this?
Kellan: I'm looking.
He looked at me like I was the point of the whole thing. Nobody had done that in years.
I leaned in and kissed him.
His mouth was warm, and he made a low sound like he'd been waiting all morning for it.
His hand found my jaw. Then my waist. He pulled me in until my knees hit his.
My coat hit the floor and I didn't care.
I pulled back first, because I was scared I'd forget we were on a bench in a coat room.
Kellan: So that's a yes.
Lena: That's a kiss. Don't push it.
Kellan: I'm writing it down as a yes anyway.
I walked out through the lobby with my coat over my arm. Kellan walked beside me like it was any normal Tuesday.
Grant was by the elevators. He looked up.
Grant: Lena.
His smile fell off his face. Just dropped, like someone had unplugged it.
Sloane's nails went white on his sleeve. Neither of them said another word.
That look was worth more than the car.
Kellan: Monday. I'll call you.
Lena: Ask me then what you want.
Kellan: I will. I just hope you don't like the answer too much.
I didn't say yes. I didn't say no either.