Page 18 of Bend
I close my eyes for a moment. Images I never saw but can’t erase run through my mind. I startle when the phone on the bed rings. It’s Anderson’s, and I never pick it up. I usually just look at it and then tell him who called so that he knows.
I reach out for it and sit up when I see the phone number. The Italian country code. My mind immediately thinks the hotel is calling because they found whatever gift Anderson sent me.
“Hello?”
“Ciao. This is the Mauro from Hotel Mulino di Firenze.”
“Hi, yes. What can I do for you?” I ask, toeing off my shoes as I wait for the response.
“You recently stayed with us in our presidential suite, si?”
“Yes but not in the—”
“We found a bracelet under the bed when the room was cleaned that we think belongs to you.”
“Bracelet?” Relief flows through me. I completely forgot about my bracelet, my mind so overwhelmed with processing the last seventy-two hours. But now that I’m reminded, I’m relieved they found it. Now I don’t have to worry about having to explain to Anderson that I lost it. “Thank you so much … but … uh … I was in room two hundred something, not in the Presidential suite?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have called the wrong number then. Let me—”
“I did lose a bracelet. Just, I didn’t have a suite,” I quickly correct him, thinking the language difference might be the problem in understanding, desperate to get my bracelet back.
“Scuzi … let me check.” The line is silent for a moment, filled only with the click of a keyboard. “No, I’m sorry. The bracelet was most definitely found in the suite and it does have this phone number as the occupant …”
My pulse begins to race as adrenaline starts to surge and awareness begins to break through the haze.
I hear more typing. “… ah yes, here it is. This is the correct number for Marco, si?”
“Yes,” I whisper into my husband’s telephone. Marco’s telephone. The hotel clerk’s voice now a distant sound in my ear.
My mind fires to process.
Understand the magnitude of what has happened.
Accept that fact that he’s already given me everything I just asked him for.
Already given me just what I needed.
I guess I received my anniversary gift from Anderson after all.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the corner that has you all fooled about the wild child inside of her—the one she lets out every time her fingertips touch the computer keyboard. She’s a wife, mom, child rustler, multi-tasker of all things domestic and otherwise. She likes her diet cokes with rum, her music loud, and her pantry stocked with a cache of chocolate.
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.
On a whim, K. decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Her debut novels, Driven, Fueled, and Crashed of The Driven Trilogy were well received and went on to become multi-platform bestsellers as well as landing on the New York Times and USA Today lists.
http://www.kbromberg.com
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@KBrombergDriven
COME
