I wanted to press him.
A week later, the remote died in the middle of a show I was watching. I went to Troy’s desk to search for batteries.
I opened the drawer and found a neat stack of hotel receipts tucked under some old mail.
Now, Troy did travel to California sometimes, so I wasn’t concerned until I saw that the hotel was in Massachusetts.
Every receipt was for the same hotel, same room number… the dates went back months.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at them until my hands went numb.
Every receipt was for the same hotel.
I kept trying to think of logical reasons for him to be traveling to Massachusetts, and I kept coming up empty.
I counted them. Eleven receipts. Eleven trips he’d lied about.
My chest felt tight. My hands shook as I entered the hotel’s number into my phone.
“Good afternoon. How may I help you?”
“Hi,” I said, forcing my voice steady. I gave her Troy’s full name and explained that I was his new assistant. “I need to book his usual room.”
I entered the hotel’s number into my phone.
“Of course,” the concierge said without hesitation. “He’s a regular. That room is basically reserved for him. When would he like to check in?”
I couldn’t breathe.
“I… I’ll call back,” I managed, and hung up.
***
When Troy came home the next evening, I was waiting at the kitchen table with the receipts. He stopped short in the doorway, keys still in his hand.
“What is this?” I asked.
I was waiting at the kitchen table with the receipts.
He looked at the paper, then at me.
“It’s not what you think.”
Read more by clicking the (NEXT »») button below!
ADVERTISEMENT ADVERTISEMENT
