Page 21 of Meet Me Back Here

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“Well, ok then. I have a feeling I’m going to be learning a lot on this trip,” Forrest mutters, once again looking up at Camelback Mountain’s silhouette before his eyes drift to a row of aloe plants lining the sidewalk to the front door.

I wonder if he’s talking about this new place for him. Or me. Or my past. Or maybe all of it.

Hopefully all of it.

“Let me help,” I say before leading the way inside.

The Russian Revolution and World War I: How War Brought Down the Tsar

The Zimmermann Telegram Explained: Germany's Secret Offer to Mexico in World War I

Why the United States Entered World War I: From Neutrality to War in 1917

The Sinking of RMS Lusitania: The U-Boat Attack That Changed World War I

It’s an interesting change of pace for me to know more than Forrest. He’s always been a wealth of knowledge and was the first person I’d go to when I was having trouble in the classes we shared. I don’t remember him ever needing to ask me things like this before.

“I’m supposed to be here supporting you,” Forrest reminds me as he falls into step at my side.

“You’re my best friend. I think it’s ok if we lean on each other.” I quickly realize that’s the first time I’ve said his title out loud since he returned, and I worry I said something wrong when Forrest doesn’t answer. But when I glance at him, he’s looking at me with that half smile.

“I’d like that,” he agrees.

Ten minutes later, inside the spacious and stunning lobby, I fear our trip is about to take a turn for the worse.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’m still having some trouble finding the reservation. Can you spell your last name again?” For the first time since we arrived, the woman working the front desk—ironically named Hope as I’m losing any I had—looks worried.

“It’s V-i-o-t-t-o-l-o. I called to add my friend earlier this week. Maybe it’s somehow under his name now? Forrest Dane?” It’s late, I’m tired, and I know the hotel is sold out, but I do my best to keep my unease at bay. Everything was fine when I called a few days ago. They’ll find the reservation.

Hope stares so intently at her computer screen that I’m concerned for its wellbeing. Every click she makes without speaking feels like another stone dropping in my stomach.

Then her whole face brightens.

“Found you,” she exclaims. “I’m so sorry for the delay. It looks like you were upgraded to a suite earlier today—the Camelback Suite—so I was looking in the wrong place. It’s all set now.”

“Oh, wow! Thank you so much,” I say, twisting to throw an eager thumbs up to Forrest. Based on his drawn brow, I have a feeling he could hear our conversation from where he’s waiting with the bags.

“Two adults, three weeks, mountain view. Here are your keys and a map with a list of the resort amenities. Wi-Fi information is on a card beside the television in the room, but if you have any questions, feel free to call down to the front desk anytime,” Hope says, her perkiness back in full force now that our little crisis has been averted.

I thank my new hotel bestie again before collecting everything and heading to the elevators with Forrest.

“We got upgraded!” I whisper to him, a new pep in my step and eyes wide in spite of the late hour and the time change.

This kind of thing never happens to me. It feels like a good omen for this trip—and I choose to ignore the fact that I thought the kerfuffle at the front desk a moment ago was going to be a bad omen. Clearly, I was completely wrong then and am correct now.

When we get to our room, we’re greeted with champagne and fruit on the coffee table in the living room along with a notecard welcoming us. I scurry past the kitchenette and across the living room right to the balcony, pulling open the door and imagining how Camelback will look on the other side of the glistening blue pool come sunrise. The hotel’s guests seem to be sleeping based on how quiet the world feels, but there’s the soft sound of water flowing down a waterfall feature into the pool a couple stories below us. It’s perfect.