Free Cover Spell by T.A. Foster

me were flat. I sat up and cocked my ear toward the bathroom door, but only heard the sounds of maids shuffling carts outside in the hall, and rain starting to pelt the open pane of the window. A slow sick feeling churned in my stomach.
    I grabbed the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around my naked body, and padded off to find Finn in the bathroom. He was probably toweling off from the shower. I pushed the door open. The bathroom was empty and dark. I darted back to the end of the bed where his overnight bag had been. It was gone. I grabbed my stomach; I felt sick. All of a sudden, I realized something besides Finn was missing. I looked down at the sheet I had clutched around me so tightly. My right hand was bare. My ring was gone.
    Tears poured from my eyes, and I sank to the floor, wrapped in the white hotel sheet. Finn was gone. He was really gone. He had stolen my heart and my ring.
    In that moment, I didn’t think I wanted either back.

New Orleans, Present Day
     
    I SQUIRMED under the mound of covers encompassing my body like a cocoon. Morning had arrived too quickly. I slid my feet to the floor and made my way to the wall of curtain drapery. I pulled back the swirly floral blackout curtains. Raindrops streaked the outside of my New Orleans hotel window. Bright red, yellow, and an occasional black umbrella dotted the sidewalks below. Passersby dodged open puddles, and scurried into restaurants and shops to avoid the steady stream of rain. The sudden vibration of my phone startled me from my rainy daze. I walked over to retrieve it from its nightly docking station. I folded my legs under me as I retreated under the blankets and sighed.
     
    Meet me downstairs in fifteen. Lobby.
     
    I blinked at the screen. The text was from Finn. I thought about that kiss last night—his lips on mine, his irresistible hot hands, and the words that caught me off guard. He wants me back? What does that even mean? My body reacted on cue every time I was within five feet of him and made it impossible to think, much less talk to him about us.
    Finn fought off words with his charm and smile. My body usually absorbed each deflected attempt he bounced back to me, and it caved to his distractions. Why was he here now after all of this time? Little beads of anger and confusion bubbled through my veins. New Orleans was my time to refocus. It was my time to mend my broken heart and maybe even to have a little fun while I was here. It had worked once before, and I was counting on the city to heal me again. Ugh! I couldn’t let him derail this trip.
    With a new sense of purpose, I got dressed, grabbed my bag, and stormed off to the hotel lobby. It was time Finn heard what I had to say.
    The elevator doors retracted, and I stepped onto the freshly polished floors of the lobby in my peachy-pink chiffon shorts, shoulder cutout white shirt, and straw wedges. Immediately, the quick lightning-like strikes from nearby cameras bounced and splashed off the floors. I felt like I had stepped into the middle of a firing squad. Teetering on the back of my heels, I tried to catch my bearings amid the chaos.
    A makeshift podium sat in the center of the lobby, and a man dressed in a dark gray suit with a matching mustache was tapping the microphone while trying to keep it from dislodging from its cradle. A circle of reporters shoved each other as the journalists forced their way closer to the podium and aimed rapid-fire camera flashes in his direction.
    I sidestepped behind the flock of frenzied journalists and found an inconspicuous spot near one of the towering palm trees. The green fronds dropped slightly over my head, and I waited for what looked like a press conference to begin. On one side of the podium stood Finn and a few other officers. On the other side were the agitated director, Archie Preston, and a few of the movie’s producers. I looked around the room for Evan, but there were too many people and the palm was interfering with my visibility.
    The