It sounded sweet.
Under normal circumstances, I would have kissed him.
Instead, I said, “Okay.”
The moment he left, I went downstairs.
Karen was behind the desk.
When she saw me, her expression became guarded.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“When was my husband here?”
She went still.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t discuss a guest’s stays.”
“He’s my husband.”
“I understand.”
“Was he here with someone?”
She looked uncomfortable.
“I really can’t discuss it.”
“You said he usually requests the same room.”
“I shouldn’t have said that.”
“How many times?”
She lowered her voice. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“I can’t give you information about another guest’s booking history.”
“Another guest? He’s my husband.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Was he here with a woman?”
She didn’t answer.
That felt like an answer.
I leaned closer.
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me.”
She glanced toward the elevators.
