Chapter 48: The (Not-So-Romantic) Hotel Disaster
The Manhattan Regal lood over the bustling New York streets, its gleaming glass facade shimring like a beacon of unattainable luxury. It was the kind of place Ava usually avoided—intimidatingly pristine and unnervingly expensive. Clutching her suitcase and her last shred of patience, she stepped out of the taxi and craned her neck to take in the sheer height of the building.
Ryan stepped up beside her, letting out a low whistle as he adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. "Fancy. Do you think they charge extra for breathing the lobby air?"
"Focus," Ava muttered, shifting her grip on the suitcase. "We need to check in and make sure i didn’t—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her heart sinking as she spotted i and Harold comfortably settled in the lobby. Their floral-print suitcases were stacked neatly beside them, and i waved enthusiastically, her face radiating innocent mischief.
"Oh no," Ava groaned, her eye twitching.
"Oh yes," Ryan countered, smirking.
i’s voice rang out across the lobby as she beckoned them over. "Co along, team! The adventure begins now!"
Ava exchanged a wary glance with Ryan. "Why do I feel like that’s not a good thing?"
"Because it’s not," Ryan said, hoisting his duffel bag onto his shoulder. "Let’s get this over with."
---
It took approximately five minutes for the first disaster to strike.
The elevator doors had barely opened when i took charge, breezing toward their designated suite like a woman on a mission. Ava and Ryan followed reluctantly, both harboring a growing sense of dread.
i stopped in front of a door and swept the keycard over the lock with dramatic flair. "Welco to your ho away from ho!" she announced, throwing the door open.
The "suite" was... underwhelming, to say the least. A single king-sized bed dominated the small room, accompanied by a tiny foldout couch that looked like it had been transported directly from the 1980s. There was also a kitchenette tucked awkwardly into one corner, complete with a coffee maker that buzzed ominously when Ava tested the switch.
"Oh, you’ve got to be kidding ," Ava muttered, stepping inside and glancing around in dismay.
"Where are the other rooms?" Ryan asked, frowning at the distinct lack of doors.
i clapped her hands together, her smile impossibly wide. "There aren’t any! Isn’t it cozy?"
"Cozy?" Ava repeated, her voice climbing an octave. "There’s one bed!"
"And a foldout couch," i pointed out, gesturing grandly. "Plenty of space for team bonding!"
"Team bonding," Ryan echoed, deadpan. "Right. So who’s getting the bed?"
"Oh, that’s already settled," i chirped, tossing her suitcase onto the king-sized mattress. Harold followed her lead, plopping down beside her and adjusting his suspenders. "This’ll do nicely."
Ava stared at them, her eye twitching. "You booked one room for four people?"
"Budgeting is an important skill," i said, completely unbothered.
"We’re at a matchmaking convention sponsored by billionaires!" Ava snapped. "What budget are you talking about?"
i waved a dismissive hand. "Details, dear. Now, why don’t you two sort out the couch situation while Harold and I get settled?"
Ava turned to Ryan, who was already eyeing the foldout couch like it might spontaneously combust.
"This is going to be fun," he said dryly, earning a glare from Ava.
As it turned out, "fun" was an optimistic description.
The foldout couch was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. After an awkward few minutes of testing the space and bickering about logistics, Ava and Ryan ended up sitting on opposite ends, glaring at each other like rivals in a hostage negotiation.
"This isn’t going to work," Ava said finally, crossing her arms.
"Agreed," Ryan replied, leaning back against the lumpy cushions. "I’ll take the floor."
"You’re not sleeping on the floor," Ava snapped.
"Why not?" Ryan asked, smirking. "Afraid I’ll be too uncomfortable to save the day tomorrow?"
"No, I’m afraid you’ll complain about it for the next decade," Ava shot back.
Ryan grinned. "Fair."
After so more bickering—and a brief, ridiculous argunt over who got the blanket—they finally settled on a compromise: Ava would take the couch, and Ryan would sleep in the armchair with his feet propped up on the coffee table.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing.
Or so they thought.
---
At exactly 2:17 a.m., Ava shot upright, her eyes wild. "What is that noise?" she hissed, clutching the blanket like it was a lifeline.
Ryan groaned from the armchair, his blanket half-draped over his head like a defeated ghost. "It’s Harold."
Ava blinked. "What?"
"Harold," Ryan repeated, his voice muffled by exhaustion. "He snores. Loudly."
As if on cue, another thunderous snore ripped through the room, rattling the picture fras on the walls. Ava stared at Ryan, wide-eyed. "Are you kidding ? It sounds like a bear wrestling a chainsaw."
Ryan tossed the blanket aside, his hair sticking up in odd directions. "Trust , it’s an art form. He does this everywhere—planes, trains, even the tea shop couch once."
"Charm?" Ava buried her face in her hands. "I can’t do this. I’m one snore away from losing my mind."
Ryan gestured toward the door, his tone deadpan. "Rooftop?"
"What?"
"Rooftop," he repeated. "Unless you want to suffocate him with a pillow, which, for the record, I’d totally support."
Ava sighed, grabbing her sweater. "Fine. But if i asks, you ca up with the murder plan."
---
The hotel’s rooftop was surprisingly quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos below. String lights crisscrossed the space, casting a warm glow over the small seating area and offering a stunning view of the New York skyline. The Empire State Building glimred in the distance, its reflection bouncing off glassy skyscrapers like scattered stars.
Ava leaned against the railing, taking a deep breath as the cool night air hit her face. "This is nice," she admitted, the tension in her shoulders finally easing.
"See? I have good ideas sotis," Ryan said, stepping up beside her, his hands resting on the railing.
"Sotis," Ava repeated, smirking.
They stood in silence for a mont, the distant hum of the city filling the space between them. Car horns honked faintly below, and sowhere in the distance, laughter echoed from a late-night rooftop party. Ava’s gaze drifted to the skyline, her thoughts churning as the glittering lights reminded her how massive this city—and this challenge—truly was.
"I don’t know if I’m ready for this," she said quietly, her voice almost lost to the night.
Ryan glanced at her, his easy confidence softening into sothing more serious. "For what? The convention?"
"All of it," Ava said, gesturing vaguely with her hand. "The competition. The billionaires. The psychics. This whole ’changing the future of matchmaking’ thing. It’s... a lot."
Ryan leaned against the railing beside her, tilting his head to et her gaze. His expression was calm, reassuring. "You’ve handled worse."
"Have I?" Ava asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ryan smirked. "Rember the scavenger hunt with the water balloons? Or the karaoke machine death tal duet? Or better yet, i locking us in the storage closet?"
Ava snorted, despite herself. "Okay, fair point."
"You’ve got this, Matchmaker," Ryan said, his tone soft but certain. "And if you don’t, well... I’m here to pick up the slack. Like always."
Ava turned to him, her heart doing that now-familiar flip-flop she’d stopped fighting against. He always knew exactly what to say when she was spiraling. "Thanks, Ryan," she said, her voice sincere.
"Anyti," he replied, flashing her a grin that was equal parts confidence and mischief.
For a mont, they stayed like that, the space between them charged with sothing unspoken but undeniable. The city lights cast a warm glow over Ryan’s face, softening his sharp features and making Ava’s chest tighten with emotions she didn’t quite know how to articulate.
Then—
The fire alarm blared, shattering the peace like a cymbal crash in a quiet symphony.
Ava jumped, clutching the railing as her eyes widened. "What now?"
Ryan sighed, already straightening. "My money’s on i."
Sure enough, when they returned to the suite, the scene was pure chaos. i stood in the kitchenette, entirely unbothered as smoke billowed from the microwave. Harold, still half-asleep, was fumbling with a fire extinguisher like he was trying to defuse a bomb.
"What did you do?" Ava asked, her voice high-pitched with disbelief.
"I was making popcorn," i said innocently, holding up a slightly charred bag.
"At two in the morning?" Ryan asked, coughing as he waved the smoke away with one hand.
"Midnight snacks are important," i replied, popping a burnt kernel into her mouth. "I’m keeping my energy up for tomorrow’s keynote."
Ava groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "I hate this trip already."
Ryan sat beside her, patting her shoulder in mock sympathy. "Welco to New York, Matchmaker. It only gets worse from here."
Despite herself, Ava laughed, the sound bubbling up against her will.
Because deep down, she knew he was probably right. And, strangely enough, she was kind of looking forward to it.
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