Honeymoon Hitch hikers – Chapter 4

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When we pull up to the majestic resort, I can’t even appreciate it, because I’ve finally realized that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Why do I always let my ideals and whims get the best of me? Why didn’t I just explain to Lily that I have a very specific plan for how his trip is supposed to go, and thank you, but no thank you, I’ll take the bus like I’m supposed to?

I wouldn’t be having inappropriate thoughts about kissing and weddings and another man’s wife if I were sitting on a bus full of tired, itchy strangers. There wouldn’t be an unfairly beautiful interloper getting into philosophical conversations about kissing while looking at my mouth and curling her bare toes and licking her lips. She doesn’t even seem aware that she’s doing it, which is the most unfair part of all.

This poor, innocent woman. She’s been through the worst kind of bad day and just needs some support to prop her up for a moment. She doesn’t deserve to have me thinking…thoughts…about her. She deserves to be treated with kid gloves, and comforted. Not ogled. I’ve been doing my best to pull myself together and not let the disturbing direction of my thoughts show, but I’m floored by how much effort this takes.

My feelings were perfectly platonic before that strangely infuriating conversation about kissing. She was just another person who needed a little help. But now my hands keep remembering the deep curve of her waist as I held her by the river. My eyes remember breeze that lifted a strand of her rich, mocha hair from her face. My nose remembers the sweet smell of fruit drifting on the stormy breeze. Pears.

I’ve been told I’m a bad kisser.

The sheer impossibility of that has me wanting to prove her and those jerks wrong in all the ways I know how.

But I can’t be thinking about pears, or strawberry lips, or caramel skin. I need to think about the reason that I’m here, in front of a palatial hotel in the picturesque Rockies, staring at a trunk full of luggage with a barefoot bride who tried to jump off a bridge.

“He didn’t even bother to get his luggage.” She runs her sculpted hand over a dark red suitcase as the rain pounds the covered drop-off lane. For some reason, the suitcases seem to really bother her. Her face is pinched, like she’s both disgusted and trying not to cry.

I try to see things from her point of view and figure out why she’s this upset, but I’m at a loss. “That’s really awful,” is all I can say.

She shakes her head, a loose tendril of hair floating in front of her face. Without meaning to,  I push it behind her ear. And she smiles at me.

My fingers tingle with the softness of her hair, but I hastily shove my hand in my pockets. Just another person, just another person…

An attendant dressed in red-and-black plaid comes out of the revolving doors. He’s got a small smile and a dolly, and doesn’t even comment on Lily’s lack of footwear, or the sheer volume of luggage in the trunk.  I shouldn’t be surprised that rich people would bring so much stuff on what is supposed to be a vacation. Still, I wonder what exactly they could possibly have in there. Lily has one large suitcase, a small one, and a tote bag, all in ivory with burgundy threading. The guy – groom – Aero? – has two medium suitcases and three stuffed garment bags. I help the attendant wrestle everything into an organized stack, while Lily hands the keys to the valet.

Then we enter, and suddenly, I’m paying attention to the present moment.

This place is incredible. The photos from the magazines and websites don’t do it justice. When Lily mentioned swinging by her hotel, I didn’t realize it would be one like this High ceilings and trendy décor. The soft grey colour palette sets off the splashes of colour from wooden art pieces. Outside, even though the storm continues, I can see the mountains and other buildings in the village. It’s quiet and peaceful in here, insulated from the sound of the relentless rain. We’re in a beautiful cocoon.

I could spend a day exploring here. I could dream that I am a guest here, on some business trip or vacation, strolling the grounds like I have the right. One day, if all of my dreams could somehow come true.

“Good afternoon…ma’am,” the receptionist says, giving us a once over. She raises an eyebrow at Lily, and gives me a less-than-flattering once over. My fantasy of belonging here one day evaporates.

I smile at her pleasantly as I fully realize how the two of us must look. “I’ll wait in the car while you get changed,” I murmur to Lily. The last thing I want is to embarrass her further.

She twists her lip as she glances at the dolly, then at me with uncertainty. “Would it be too much to ask you to help?”

Even though the attendant is right there and I wonder why she doesn’t just let him do it, excitement leaps within me. She probably wants to get away from these people as much as I do. Could I actually get to see what a room here looks like?

I keep my voice neutral. “No, not at all.”

Smiling, she takes my hand and pulls me to the front desk. “We’re checking in,” she declares, her chin raised, her dark eyes steady. There’s a new regality to her posture that takes me off guard. She’s nothing like the distraught, disheveled woman I rescued. Outward appearance notwithstanding, she has the aura of a sophisticated socialite who’s used to getting what she wants. .

“Certainly,” the affronted receptionist manages.

“We just got married,” Lily informs her. “In the woods. Just in case you’re wondering.”

I try to keep my face from reacting as the woman forces a smile. “Congratulations. Just let me pull up your information.”

As Lily provides the necessary details in cool, clipped sentences, using Aero’s name, pretending I am him, I find myself inching closer to her.  I would laugh at the absurdity that I could possibly be lucky enough to be married to this exquisite woman, but if this is what she needs to tell the receptionist to avoid explaining our odd presence, I’m not about to contradict her.

Still, the impossibility of me ever fitting into a world like this is hard to deny. This place is big, and grand, and I’ve never felt more out of place. I’m aware of every stain on my clothes and just how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper shower and taken care of myself. I always do my best, but resources are limited at times, and there’s usually others who are more in need than me. But I wish I could have been selfish for once, because I feel like I’m desecrating the place with my presence. Desecrating her.

The thought still has me frowning as we head up to the room. Then all thoughts evaporate when she scans the keycard and pushes open the door.

The bright, airy space has my jaw dropping. It’s not a room. It’s a suite. A wing. It has two floors. Two. The main has a small table with two chairs, a bathroom with a gold-trimmed shower stall, a living area with a sprawling leather sectional and mahogany coffee table. Stepping in further, I gaze up to the loft, which has a low wall. There’s tasteful art on the walls, but nothing can compare to the view provided by the two-storey chalet windows framing a hulking mountain. Even through the dimness and streaks of rain, it’s incredible.

“Not bad,” Lily comments as she steps up beside me. “Aero didn’t think we’d need all this space just for the two of us, but I’m glad I convinced him.”

“It’s…magnificent,” I breathe.

Her smile is indulgent. “Help me get those bags upstairs, and then you can take it all in while I change. I’m dying to get out of this dress already.”

And I’m back to thinking about her body.

Carefully avoiding looking at her, I begin the task. The staircase is too narrow to carry more than a few things at a time, so we have to make three trips. Taking up most of the loft space is a king-sized bed between two bedside tables. An ensuite hosts a full jacuzzi bathtub that I instantly wish I could claim for myself. When is the last time I took a long, luxuriant bath? Probably close to ten years. But it was my favorite ritual in my early twenties, when I had college stress to unwind from and Sage would take the babies on a long, evening walk.

A deep longing for those simpler days pulls at me. I’d thought life was so stressful back then.  I was blissfully ignorant of all that was around the corner for me.

Lily groans as she tosses the final bag into the closet, then stretches one arm while putting her other hand over her mouth. “Crap. I think I forgot my phone in the centre console. I was going to check when the weather is supposed to let up.”

“I’ve got it.” I fish my well-loved, glitchy phone out of a cargo pocket, quelling the urge to take a photo of Lily. After the exertion, she’s even more dishevelled and adorable. “Looks like it should clear up in the next hour in Banff. But it’s going to rain here for the quite a while yet.”

“Okay. Well, by the time I’m ready and we get there, we should be good.” She nudges my elbow. “We’ll have to get something to eat while we’re there. I’m missing my reception dinner right now.”

Lunch does sound spectacular, but I focus my wayward mind on her. “Are you okay?”

She sighs. “I’m trying not to think about it. I’m just going to stay in my bubble.” Her laugh is a little manic. “What’s the worst that can happen, right? Someone makes an embarrassing speech about us while we’re not even there to cringe?”

I rest a comforting hand on the back of her shoulder. “You just feel whatever you need to feel about it, okay? Nothing good comes from hiding from your emotions.”

I’m not ready for the way she leans in and wraps her arms around my back. She sighs again with her whole body, melting into me. I’m helpless to do anything but cradle the back of her head with one hand and cover her back with the other.

“This has been such a weird day. I didn’t even know you existed a couple of hours ago. But I would be completely lost without you now.”

Her unexpected, candid vulnerability hits me in the heart. I’ve been useful to people in the past, certainly, but for the first time in a long time I feel necessary. As wild and implausible as this situation seems, it also feels right. I’m like a kid again, meeting someone at the playground and forming an instant bond that leads to sleepovers and sharing deep secrets all night long.

Well, I would feel like a kid again, if it weren’t for the not very innocent way my body is reacting to the press of her silk-clad front against mine. Even through all the layers of my clothes, I’m very aware that only a swath of fabric lays between me and the secret expanses of her creamy, soft skin.

“I’ll let you get to it,” I mumble as I pull away from her. She blinks her big, dark eyes at me, then yawns again.

“Right,” she says with false brightness. “This can’t be all about me. We’ve got to get you to Banff.”

“I’ll be on the couch,” I promise. “There’s no rush. Take your time, okay?”

I don’t miss the grateful drop of her shoulders. “Thank you.”

Downstairs, I spend a few minutes looking around at everything. This is the most opulent place I’ve ever been. The elegance of it makes me itch with unease. I don’t dare sit on the couch, or touch anything. I just feel so unclean in a way that has never bothered me before. I’m used to rough living. I’ve stopped wanting anything fancy in life, just a dry place to lay my head, a decent phone to create mini-movies for Sparrow, and enough construction jobs to slowly save up for the other things that a normal, functioning adult should have. I’ve never felt self-conscious or apologetic for the fact that I’m a far cry from a society man. I focus on being grateful that things weren’t worse when I let my life completely fall apart.

Now, though, I really want to know how that rain showerhead would feel. Those little bottles of shampoo and body wash look like they would be heaven. Nothing like the donated bargain products I get when I’m far enough ahead of the line.

“Hey, Lily,” I call.

Nothing.

“Lily!” Still nothing. Cautiously, I pad up the stairs, the carpet soft through my socks. “Hey, I don’t want to disturb you, but I was thinking I could run down and grab my backpack so I could change before we go. I realized I should probably freshen up a bit, too.”

I’ve been creeping slowly up the stairs, not wanting to startle or embarrass her. But when there’s still no answer, I dare to peek around the parapet.

And there she is, delicate and sprawled on the huge bed. Her wavy hair, loose now, spills over her back. She has a fist pressed against her luscious lips. Dead to the world, she breathes a deep and even rhythm.

Wistful, and more than a little guilty, I let my eyes drink their fill of her. Her curves are so delectable, and her hair is so rich. The hem of that silk dress has ridden up to her knees. Those calves would fit perfectly in my hands. I can imagine those toes curling again as I run my hands up her thighs, ever higher…

Turning away, I flee down the stairs as silently as I can. I barely get my boots back on before rushing out the door. When it shuts a little too hard, I cringe, but it can’t be helped. Riding down in the mirrored elevator, I avoid my reflection and focus on my breathing.

Downstairs, I realize I don’t actually have a way to get into the car. The valet took the keys. Uncertainly, I  approach the reception desk. “Excuse me.”

Her gaze is just as cool and offended as before. “Yes, sir?”

The “sir” part gives me some confidence. She would know what kind of room Lily – and supposedly I – had rented for the next few weeks. It can’t be cheap. I must be a very important man, even if I don’t look it.

“Could you please have someone bring the car around? I forgot something.” I bite my lip to hide my giddy smile. When would I ever get another chance to have someone “bring the car around?”

“You can give your ticket to the valet,” she says dismissively.

The brief surge of power leaves me. Right. I should have remembered from the movies I’ve seen. I have no idea where Lily put it, and I don’t want to disturb her. But I need my backpack. Not just to clean up, but because I have no idea how long she’s going to be asleep. She could be out for the night, for all I know, and there’s no way I’ll be separated from it for that long. Who knows what could happen out here in the middle of the woods? There could be bears.

It’s been a while since my amateur acting days, but I try to go method and channel the rich dudes from my favorite movies. Eccentric billionaires who don’t care about societies standards, who of course would be seen in a luxury hotel wearing cargo pants, hiking boots, and a worn-out shell.

I straighten to my full height, which is something. Placing my hands deliberately on the desk, I lower my chin and lean in a little, trying to replicate the scene in my mind’s eye. “I forgot it upstairs, where my wife is sleeping. I’m not going to disturb her, so I’m going to need you to bring the green Audi RS5 around. She won’t be happy if I’m not ready for our dinner at the Lakeview with our investors before she wakes up. I’d be very grateful if you could help me out.”

She swallows, apparently taking down every line I’ve fed her. “Of course, sir.” She motions to the valet, and relays the instructions.

In less than two minutes, the car is there, sleek and glossy under the overhang.

“Thank you,” I say to the valet. Then I inwardly cringe all the way to my toes when I realize I can’t tip the man. That has to be expected, right? I hadn’t watched Lily closely enough to know for sure, and I don’t know what parts of the movies are real, especially in Canada. “Ummm…I’ll just park it myself. Thank you.” Despite the guilt and shame eating at me, I manage to make my tone authoritative. The valet doesn’t seem offended as he hands over the keys and heads back inside.

Not wanting to be caught ogling what’s supposed to be my own car, I open the door and get into the plush driver’s seat. It rumbles soothingly as I start it, and I pause. It feels wrong to drive this car, even a few dozen metres to the parking lot. But the all-black interior with chrome finish sends a chill down my spine, and I grip the leather of the steering wheel in my hands. What would it be like to go from zero to sixty in 3.5 seconds, flying down Highway 1 in a shade of green that rivals the trees?  

I forget that they might be wondering what I’m doing in here. I glance down to reassure myself that my backpack is tucked on the floor of the passenger’s seat. I try to hype myself up and start driving, but my eyes continue to stare.

I must get my backpack, park the car, and go back upstairs so I can be ready when Lily wakes up. If she’s still asleep by the time I’m done washing up, I’ll leave her a note to call me in the morning, then go find a nearby campground to crash for the night. There has to be one, right? Somewhere in this vast expanse of mountain wilderness, there must be people with campfires bright enough to scare away the bears.

But then I groan. Not only do I not have a valet ticket, I also don’t have a room key to get back in. What the hell am I going to do? I don’t relish the thought of delivering another performance to get a copy of the key.

Where is my head at?

I don’t have to look far to get the answer to that question. My mind balloons with fantasies as I caresses the armrest of the car. For a moment, the fact that I’m stranded out here feels more like a blessing than a curse.  

What would it be like to own a car like this? To actually be Aero and afford a car, a vacation, a life like this? To have piles of luggage instead of my entire life contained in one 50-litre backpack? How might things have been different if I’d been born into such a life, and could have avoided the bank foreclosure that had just been the tip of my financial woes? Lily and Aero probably rarely think about money, other than how to make more of it. They could drop several hundred thousand dollars on as many sport vehicles as they want without blinking.

What would it be like if Lily was actually my wife, waiting for me to get dressed for an investor dinner? If I could somehow wake her from her deathlike sleep by knocking at the door of our suite, she’d come down to let me in, amused at my thoughtlessness, but charmed all the same because I’d bring her the phone she’d forgotten in the center console. She’d kiss me without hesitation, and draw me in, then proceed to help me get ready in an expensive suit. We’d take way too long, of course, due to the endless tempting distractions we’d present to each other.

If I had stayed the course and become the big-time movie producer my boyhood self had dreamed of, maybe that could be my life right now. I would finally feel like I fit somewhere.

This train of thought gives me pause. Glancing down at my backpack again, I think about the picture in there. “I don’t mean that I regret you,” I amend as the implications of that thought crash into me. “I just wish I could have been better for you. God, how I wish…”

And suddenly, I’m sobbing all over this gem of a car. That’s why I don’t notice when someone comes up to the driver’s side door and yanks it open.

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