Chapter FourteenSlate
The suite is dark, quiet, and cold when I arrive around ten thirty.
I flip on the lights and call out. “Keaton?”
No answer. Hoping she just fell asleep, I walk through the suite to look for her. The bottle of champagne I had the bellhop leave on the table is half-empty. The perfume of bubble bath still hangs in the air.
She was here, all right . . . but not anymore.
My stomach sinks.
I check my phone and growl to myself at the multiple missed calls. It only gets worse when I read all her texts, which go from confused to clipped to seriously upset.
“f**k,” I mutter. She got sick of waiting for me and went home, and I really can’t blame her. She must think I’m a complete asshole.
I have to call Keaton right now. I don’t know what to say yet, but I have to apolog
