When Molly said “bunking together,” I assumed she meant bunk beds and not this. It wasn’t even a normal hotel room–the kind with two queen beds and a single chair because only one occupant could sit at a time–this was a freaking apartment.
Our bags were waiting for us in the small dinette area with a table and chairs next to a minifridge and microwave. Down a step was a lower level with two small sofas and plush beige carpet. Two doors were on either side of the living room where the floor to ceiling windows overlooked the snow peaked mountains under the silver moon in the distance.
I stood there staring in a delirious haze while Stef rushed forward. She rubbed her hand over one of the sofas, marking her territory, and poked her head into both rooms.
“This one is mine,” she declared, st
