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Drew Harper.
A man who remembers your favorite flowers from a one-time date; not even with him. And then sends them to you on the one-year anniversary of the day you turned him down.
“Remind me why we don’t like Iris man?” Halliday asks. “Was he ugly?”
I pause, before raking my fingers through my hair some more. “No. Why?”
“Did he smell bad?”
“No.”
“Wear leather pants?”
“No.” I laugh. “You know all this already.”
She knows how Drew asked me on a date that night when I was in London four years ago. He turned up in Bath the following Thursday, just like he said he would. He walked right into my office and declared to the reception team he was there to take me to dinner. Cocky bastard. If he’d listened to me in the first place, he could have saved himself the journey. I was leaving work in a rush for the airport that night. I almost felt bad for him, all dressed up, his broad chest snug inside a crisp, white shirt. But I’d warned him. I wasn’t looking for anything.
Halliday crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m just recapping.”
I chuckle. “Right.”
She likes to ‘recap’ this story frequently, convinced I missed some giant cosmic alignment by failing to accept the invitation of a date from a man I barely knew. She said she consulted her card decks about us and that apparently we pulled some interesting results. And although I’m happy for her that she’s found her calling and that it brings her joy, I have no interest in learning about my cosmic vibrations.
Or Drew Harper’s.
When I moved to London last year, she was convinced the universe was at work, bringing Drew and I closer together again. The promotion and hefty pay rise I got from being offered a job as a senior prosecutor with the Crown Prosecution Service were minor details in her mind.
“It’s a shame he stopped sending them. Irises are so beautiful.” She flicks her eyes back to the roses and glares at them.
“Will you stop?” I laugh. “They’re not going to magically transform if you send enough hate their way.”
She sighs, her shoulders dropping as she looks at me. “I want you to be happy.”
“I am.”
“With Henry?” She snorts as I place my phone into my clutch.
“I told you. Things with Henry are—”
“Boring. Yeah, I know. I’m just saying, I bet Iris man’s vibration is insane.”
“Well then, why don’tyougo on a date with him? Then you can question him and tap into him or however you do it.”
“Do you still have his number?” She perks up, her eyes eager and alert.
I know that face. It’s the one she gets every time she makes a new love match at work. Like the universe has just handed her another magic cookie on a gold platter.
“No,” I say firmly before her idea can sprout and grow faster than Jack’s beanstalk. “I deleted it ages ago. After I threatened him with a restraining order.”
“Huge mistake,” she grumbles as I pick up my keys.
She’s never forgiven me for it. I didn’t mean it exactly. It was more a friendly joke when Drew kept being persistent about taking me out. I was working on a huge case and had a shit day. So when he texted me again, I told him I might be forcedto file for one if he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I wouldn’t have done it. I still remember his response.
Make sure whoever he is treats you like his queen. Be happy, Sophie Havers.
And that was the last time I ever saw or spoke to Drew Harper. He’d have forgotten about me a long time ago. Men like Drew Harper don’t waste time. I could have found a way to contact him if I’d wanted to. Especially after discovering my sister, Holly’s, best friend, Rachel, is married to Tanner Grayson—the man who runs the company Drew works at. Another twist of fate that Halliday clutched on to, like it all meant something.
I open the front door and turn to her. “You’ve willed my flowers dead and questioned my life choices. Are you happy now? Can we go?” I ask with a smile.
