Matter of Choice Read online

  She turned to Triston. “I don’t know. I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said as she stood. “I should go.”

  His face elongated, his jaw dropped without opening, eyebrows shot upward. He stood and gently grabbed her forearm. “Don’t, Shy. There’s no reason to feel self-conscious, or embarrassed. We’re having dinner. That’s all. And after all that man put you through, what’s the harm in dinner?”

  She stepped closer, her voice hushed. “It doesn’t matter what he’s done. It matters what I’m doing. And I don’t want to do something that will be … misconstrued … as indecent. I’m trying to be right, Triston. And not the kind of right that, you know, he’s wrong, and I’m right; but the kind of right that I didn’t do anything out of line regardless of what he’s done.” She sighed as his lips tightened into a tender smile. “That doesn’t make sense?”

  “Shannon, it makes all the sense in the world. And, I’ve got to say, you have got to be the most patient, incredible, self-sacrificing woman I have ever met.” He dropped his hand and tucked it in a pocket. “If you want, I’ll take you back to the hotel. No hard feelings. But, if you stay, I promise not to give anyone a reason to think anything of you, or of us. We’ll eat. We’ll enjoy the views.” He shrugged. “And maybe even each other’s company.”

  She smiled a soft line and shook her head in tremors. “Of course we’ll enjoy each other’s company. That was never the problem.” She glanced down at the floor. A couple walked by, Shannon lifted her gaze, cognizant they were oblivious of her standing next to Triston. Of course they would be. She and Greg were well-known in certain circles, but hardly famous. Why would anyone think twice of her being with Triston? Conscience pricked her, self-importance raining guilt over her. You’re being silly. She nodded once. “Okay. You’re right. Dinner doesn’t matter. Especially not now.” Sadness threatened to engulf her, tears glistening at the edge of their abyss. Why she should even care anymore was beyond her, her husband didn’t.

  Triston reached out and patted her knee. “That-a girl.”

  “Triston Keyes. Your table is ready,” the college-aged man at the concierge desk announced.

  Triston stood and nodded, and Shannon scrutinized him as he spoke to the attendant. So different from the boy she knew. He wasn’t from money, that she knew. His family was blue-collar, working class, real people. No showmanship. No airs. Just down to earth, and sometimes rough around the edges. She loved his family when she was younger, she remembered, and raised an eyebrow. Perhaps she would now, too.

  But all that taken into consideration, she saw something in Triston she hadn’t before. He was still … Triston … but the air about him, the confidence. And something else. He fit in the strangest sort of way. Not high power, not rich money, but the command he took. She glanced at the attendant and realized she wasn’t the only one noticing his presence. The boy wasn’t studying him, and would have if he sensed Triston didn’t fit in. That’s how it was among the wealthy and those who waited on them, Shannon had been in upper-crust level long enough to recognize it. It was one of those things people liked so well about the Grande Marquis: no preconceived notions, everyone treated generally the same.

  She tilted her head to the side, more curious than before. And wondered why this was the first time she noticed the difference.

  “You ready?” he asked, breaking through her thoughts, his hand outstretched.

  She nodded, smiled and stood up with her fingers resting in his grasp. The moment her skin touched his, an electrifying smile lit up his face, the heat flushing Shannon’s cheeks. It shouldn’t feel this nice.

  Her throat constricted as they walked hand in hand down the ramp towards the back of the restaurant, following the attendant past the main dining area, bar and kitchen. Her brows furrowed and she looked to Triston’s carefully stoic expression. With an arm wrapped around his elbow, she began to whisper the question as the attendant stopped outside one of the private rooms. Shannon raised an eyebrow and looked to the man at her side, surely there was some mistake.

  “Your private room as requested, Mr. Keyes.” The attendant held out an opened palm towards the intimate space Shannon knew was expensive to reserve. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily. In the meantime, is there anything I can get for you?”

  Triston retrieved his wallet from the inside of his suit coat and peeled a fifty dollar bill from the fold, handed it to the attendant. “No, but I thank you for your assistance with this special reservation.”

  He took the bill without hesitation, wished them both a nice evening and retreated up the ramp.

  Shannon stared hard at Triston. “I don’t understand, I thought we had an agreement. Why all of this?”

  One hand nestled in the small of her back as the other gestured to the private two top table. Shannon’s eyes dropped forward, fighting against bubbling joy, and slowly took a step forward. With his hand never straying from its perch on her back, he sidled forward and pulled out a lattice arm chair. She folded her hand, gaze lifting to meet his.

  “Please.”

  She considered for a moment and settled in the cherry oak, laying an eggshell linen napkin across the contrasting black of her dress as Triston eased the chair forward. Her eyes followed him as he rounded the table and sat down, then resting both elbows on the table. “Our agreement still stands intact. But the way I see it, the one thing you need is to be treated like a lady again.”

  “But, Triston, this is expensive to do, I know. You didn’t …”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand. “Nothing is too expensive for you. So no more protests, okay? Just enjoy.”

  Sliding the hand back, she ignored the pang of hurt in his eyes which faded nearly as quickly as it appeared. She pulled her lips over her teeth and looked over the room. White walls were trimmed in cherry oaks, floors darker than those in the main part of the building. Twin floor-to-ceiling slate water fountains decorated in copper stretched against the wall behind Triston, the trickle nearly silent except for the occasional gurgle as the water edged gently over the backdrop. Windows stretched the length of wall to Shannon’s right with an unsurpassable vista of the valley and river, a glass door led to a private patio. Music played low in the background, the light dim enough to be romantic accompanied by candles flickering with invitation.

  She squirmed a little, glancing across the table into the enticing green of his eyes. It’s dinner, Shannon, just dinner. A cozy, romantic, private dinner. With Triston. It couldn’t be more wrong. Her breath caught as she realized, it couldn’t feel more right.

  She smiled. “This is beautiful, Triston. I don’t why you did this, or how,” she giggled. “But it couldn’t be any more wonderful. I think this is what I needed. Away from Greg, away from the hotel, away from everything. Thank you.”

  “Any time, sweetie. I think that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

  The corners of her mouth pinched tightly into a smile. “So, aside from dating anyone whose head you could turn, what have you been doing since we were together?”

  He sighed and sat back. “What have I been doing? Back to the small talk, huh?”

  She giggled. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean, what’s been going on? It’s been so long.”

  Arms folded against his chest, a thumb pressed against his lips, Triston smiled. “Now that I can agree with you on.” With a hard blink and heavy sigh, he appeared to contemplate subjects. “Well, I own my own business.”

  “You do?” She failed to inhibit the widening eyes or inflection in her voice from pitching higher.

  He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised.”

  “Well, no, I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  He reached across the table again, patting her hand. “Of course you didn’t. And it’s nothing as glamorous as running the Grande, I can assure you. It’s an employee management company. I do well, turned over a six digit profit last year for the first time.”


  Her lips curled softly upwards, That explains the difference in him. Shannon never imagined him owning a white-collar business. He had more interest in shop and sports than marketing and books in high school. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. It’s been a tough road, building it, getting the name out there, but you know, the blood, sweat and tears are rewarding.” He winked. “Almost as much as the money. But then, I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”

  She toyed with the glass of water before her. “It was different for me, I guess. Easier, maybe. You know, Greg’s family had all this money backing them, the Grande was really their investment, and his present to me. Because of that, I didn’t have the struggles most businesses have at start up. Things just fell into place, guests came. The Winters’ name was attached to it,” she shrugged. “They trusted that without question right out of the starting gate. I know what you fought your way through must have been much tougher than what I did.”

  Triston raised an eyebrow. “You sell yourself short. You’ve built more than just a business or hotel. Those guests love you, outside of the Winters’ name. They respect you.”

  She chuckled, but the scorn was unmistakable. “They won’t if Greg continues to make scenes like he has been. He doesn’t understand how that hurts not just me, but the hotel.”

  He shook his head. “That man understands more than you think he does. You make it too easy. But no, he’s not hurting the hotel. The guests aren’t as oblivious as they act, and they feel badly for you.”

  “Pity.” A groan slipped past her lips. “That’s not good either.”

  “You’ve got to open your eyes. You’re not seeing the forest, you know that?”

  “I guess I’m seeing a few more of the trees right now though.”

  The waitress came in, dressed in a black suit and white apron, hair tied back into a ponytail, face a young twenty-something brilliance. She took their orders for appetizers and main entrées, announced the meal would be served in approximately thirty minutes. Taking the menus, she invited them to step out onto the terrace before exiting the room and closing the doors behind her.

  Triston regarded Shannon, an eyebrow raised. “So what do you think? Would you like to step outside, or would you prefer to stay here and talk?”

  Shannon took a second, thoughts and considerations bombarding her mind from every angle. But in the end, there was no reason not to, and glancing back at Triston, his eyes bright with hope and a sliver of expectation, the words came easy. “We can go outside if you’d like.”

  He nodded, pushed the chair back quietly and stood, making his way to slide her chair backwards. “Shall we?”

  Outside, with the sun beginning to settle behind the furthest horizon, the faintest glimmer of stars breeching the fading light, the atmosphere dripped in romanticism. Shannon leaned against the railing, keeping her attention distantly removed from the man next to her. His very presence unnerved and draped her in comfort at the same time, and she couldn’t reconcile the emotions.

  Triston settled his back against the white wooden barrier, arms crossed against his chest, studying her.

  She tilted her head, redirected her attention away from the scenery to meet him. “You’re staring at me.”

  “Admiring you.”

  Her eyebrows knitted together. “How do you do that? How do you always know the most flattering thing to say? Like you’re trying to speak directly to my heart?”

  He smirked. “Is it working?”

  She sighed heavy, her face hardened. “Triston, you can’t …”

  He turned to take her hand. “Why not, Shy? Why can’t I tell you how wonderful you are? I can’t understand what Greg is thinking, how he could play the games he’s playing. I don’t care what his excuse is. I don’t care how sick he is or what happened to him. No man … wait, any man would look at you, standing next to them, standing firm, and see what a miracle it is for you to even be there. All the excuses in the world don’t dismiss his behavior.”

  Tears threatened to well over as she lifted her gaze towards the sky, blind to the blushed horizon and glimmering speckles overhead, her effort to blink the emotion away failing. “I don’t know anymore, Triston. I’ve been, marriage vows are, they’re serious, you know. They’re supposed to be forever. I never imagined, in all of my worst nightmares, Greg and I would be here now. I wanted it to be forever. I wanted the dream to come true. I couldn’t turn my back on that.”

  “So when you found out it was your best friend he was sharing his time with, something changed?”

  She wiped away the lone tear that found its freedom with brushing fingertips. “The thing is, Triston, all those other women, they may have never known I even existed. Greg probably never even told them he was married. He doesn’t remember that he is. But Lauren, she knew. Of course she knew. She worked at the hotel as my head housekeeper, and even before that, she was my best friend. We’ve known each other for years, long before the accident even happened. How she could do this? And how she could allow him to do it?”

  Triston scoffed, “So it’s her fault?”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s her fault. And his too. It doesn’t matter, Triston. I can’t do this anymore. I’m, I’m worn out.”

  He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms tight as she pressed into his shoulder.

  “I’m here for you, Shy.” His lips moved against her hair, strands dancing around the inviting mouth. “And I’m not going to let this guy hurt you anymore. If I have to live here at the hotel until your divorce is final, I’ll do that.”

  She pushed away, the contradictions in her chest heavy and foreboding. “And then what, Triston? You have a business to run, you’re not moving here anymore than I’m moving away from this place. You’re talking about six months or longer. I don’t know what Greg is going to do, if he’ll fight this. You can’t put your life on hold for me.”

  “I think you’re underestimating my commitment here.”

  “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”

  “Am I?” He leaned forward, a knuckle cupping her chin as he edged it upwards and softly pressed his lips against her hesitant mouth. Every fiber wanted to resist, to push away, but the touch of skin pressed together felt too good, and she deliquesced into him.

  Slowly, they parted, her voice hoarse. “We shouldn’t …” She couldn’t bear to open her eyes. She didn’t want to see the expectations and hope she imagined to be shimmering in his gaze, or reveal the shame and uncertainty she knew was in hers.

  He pressed a finger against her lips, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, his breath intoxicatingly warm. “Don’t say ‘we shouldn’t’ anything. Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” He paused, and she could feel him back away. Setting her jaw firm, her lids eased open to stare into Triston’s gaze mere inches away. “It was one kiss, Shy. That’s all. And I won’t go further than that until you’re ready. But to make it clear, I love you. It might seem impossible, it’s been years and we haven’t spent much time together since I came to the Grande. But I realized this afternoon, when I took a jog down that path we walked … I loved you in high school. Honestly, truly loved you. I screwed it up. But the love never really went away.”

  “Triston.”

  “Please, let me say this. It has been years, and we need to relearn one another in a lot of ways, but we talk and it’s like all those years never happened. I want to explore that place again with you, as two mature adults who know what the terrain of love is truly about, in all of its dips and heights. And I will wait six months, a year, three years, if that’s what it takes. That’s all that kiss was about.” He reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay?”

  She nodded, hand resting against his chest, closing her eyes again. It was said eyes were the windows to the soul, and she knew, should he peer into them long enough, he would see how very much she wished she wasn’t married.

  Chapter Seventeen

/>   Thursday morning rose with a bright sun and flurry of activity at the Grande Marquis. In seven hours, forty-five attendees, each an important name when compared to the typical Joe, would be arriving, and Shannon’s hair felt like it was on end as she looked at the clock on the computer monitor. A housekeeping team without an immediate manager, a special events team short one due to a family death, a menu missing an appetizer after a delivery truck was stuck in Jersey somewhere due to a ten car pile up. Disaster after disaster, too many people to disappoint. An account too crucial to injure. The weight burdened her conscience, her gut aware the majority of the fault rested on her alone. A night out with Triston and a head not fully in the game was catching up.

  He clouded her thoughts as she fought to categorize a kiss and evening far more romantic than any in recent memory. Triston played the role of devoted, attentive companion perfectly. She had to admit, it turned her head. Shannon stiffened. Just a little. Not much.

  The phone rang and made Shannon jumped, shaking her head in disgust.

  She had to get it together.

  Relief washed over her when she picked up a line to the back up supplier confirming the rush of ingredients for soups and salads would arrive within the hour. One issue off the list.

  Another call and a secondary chef on his way in to assist the kitchen, a second solution.

  Only a half dozen left to work through.

  Shannon’s fingers glided across the keyboard, assigning rooms for housekeepers to clean, and two additional maids assigned to the banquet room to assist special events. A tap on the enter key and the printer came alive with schedules she could pass to the group of seven ladies.

  Running fingers through her hair, she leaned back in the chair and smiled. Back on track, she thought, and enough time for appearances to ensure no one knew there was ever a hiccup.