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... mmed downward. I stared at the numbers. She stared at her shoes. Damn. I wish I had taken the stairs or something. I didn’t know things would be this weird between Minne and I.
As the elevator dinged open, we stepped into the hotel lobby. The receptionist behind the front desk gave me a polite nod and a smile.
"Mr. Marlowe," she called out. "Heading outside?"
"Yep."
"I’ll let them know to get your car ready," she said. "If you’d like, you may sit. Shall I bring yo ...
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