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He grinned and pressed a kiss to my lips again, pulling me close against him. “Good.”
“You just want help solving the hunt,” I teased.
Without missing a beat, he responded. “I don’t care about the hunt anymore. I have an ulterior motive. I just want you to stay.”
I knew more about ulterior motives than I could ever admit to Archie.
That night, I returned to my room and called my parents, letting them know I’d be staying a bit longer so they wouldn’t miss me at Sunday dinner. Archie had asked if I wanted to stay with him, but for this last night at least, I wanted to finish up the conference agenda with Christine and handle my parents without him potentially hearing anything.
“How is everything going?” Mom asked, and I could hear the real question behind her words.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m just trying to soak up as much writing goodness as I can.” Mom and Dad didn’t know about the treasure hunt, and giving them any information about the time I’d spent with Archie would only inspire more questions, so I didn’t volunteer anything else.
“Okay honey. We can’t wait to hear about it when you get back,” Mom said. “And um . . . have you . . . did you happen to . . .?”
“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home,” I said, cutting off the questions that I knew led to the Kaspers.
“Love you, Em.”
“Love you, Mom.” I hung up, a whole different brand of guilt evolving inside me. Who knew there were so many flavors of such a distasteful emotion?
“Did you tell him?” Christine asked, standing in the door to the bathroom of our room. There was resigned judgement in her voice and posture. She already knew the answer.
“Not yet.”
She nodded, probably reading the guilt in my face. “Okay.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to worry about you,” she told me as she prepared for bed. “You’re digging a pretty deep hole here.”
“Yeah. But I will tell him. I just have to find the right time.” And my window to do it had just extended a bit.
She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me but didn’t argue.
“Um, also,” I said, earning another stern look, this one with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not leaving tomorrow. Archie invited me to stay to try to finish the hunt.”
Now both eyebrows went up, and Christine blew out a breath and then dropped her face into her hands. “Em...”
“I know.” I did know. I knew it was a terrible idea. I knew I should just leave, put all of this behind me. Or tell him everything. What I didn’t know was what I was actually going to do.
“You’re going to give me an ulcer,” Christine moaned, shuffling toward her bed.
The next morning, we went together to the farewell events for the conference, and before it seemed possible, I was on the curb waving goodbye to my friend. The bulk of attendees left in a harried wave of shuttles and cars just after noon, and by early evening, the resort felt like a completely different place.
Quiet. Sleepy. Like a place hiding more secrets than the one I carried.
Chapter Twenty
The Future Looms
GHOST
The conference departures lasted for hours, with crowds of people catching shuttles at various times. The front turnabout at the resort was mobbed and I felt like a maniac, guiding vehicles here and there, lifting luggage for writers, and helping people check flights at the front desk. Luckily, the storm had cleared out, and Denver was pretty quick about digging out after snow. Most flights were showing on-time departures or short delays not related to weather, and by six o’clock, the hotel seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the familiar calm settled over the property.
The place wasn’t empty—a few writers had stayed longer for retreats or vacations, and we had a few other guests, but the weekend ahead looked relatively light, and on the heels of that, we’d have some Thanksgiving vacationers staying.
Antonio had promised to handle the details of arranging a traditional feast for those who would be joining us, butotherwise, we’d be returning to business as usual. Except for the small issue of a wedding, if my sister still wanted to do it, now that Finn was here.
