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“Darlin’,” he begins, shifting his hands to his pockets, “if there’s two things I’m an expert on, it’s flowers and being a man. I’m telling you. Whoever sent those has very strong romantic intentions toward you.”
“Using a flower that symbolizes a fresh start? I don’t know, sir. I’m thinking he more than likely is just trying to apologize for being an ass.”
“Perhaps.” He nods, looking to me thoughtfully. “Can I ask how long you’ve known the gentleman in question?”
That elicits a laugh from me for some reason. “Oh, God. Too freaking long. Um… let’s see, now. Seventeen years?”
“Hmmm.” A knowing smile overtakes his features. “You know, ma’am, in the Victorian era, dahlias had a different meaning. Back then, they were used as a sign of devotion or a way to signify an everlasting bond between two people.”
“While that’s very romantic, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence in this case.”
“Again… perhaps. However, my wife and I own the flower shop these came from. Took the order myself from the young man when he came in. And I just find it incredibly interesting that the specific number of flowers he requested correlates exactly to the number of years you’ve been in one another’s lives.”
“What?” My face falls, mouth slightly agape.
The man’s smile only grows wider. “You have a lovely day now, sweetheart.”
He lets himself out, the door snicking shut behind him while I stand stunned in the lingering silence.
No. It couldn’t be. Rushing to the bouquet, I quickly begin counting the oversized full blooms. “…14, 15, 16…17.”
I repeat the process two more times, but the number never changes.
Seventeen. There are seventeen dahlias scattered amongst the assortment of baby’s breath and leafy greens contained within the crystal vase.
I’m still trying to make sense of it all when the sound of another door closing echoes down the hall, and I turn to see Luc entering the living room.
“Hey, babe.”Using the towel slung over his shoulders, he wipes the sweat from his face. “Whatcha got there?”
“Uhh…” I stand at a loss for words, still struggling to catch my bearings.
Of course, Luc chooses today to suddenly become perceptive. Eyes narrowing, he stalks toward me, his gazes zeroing in on the small rectangle still in my grasp. Ripping the card from me, he quickly scans the message, and the way his jaw tightens tells me he has no misconceptions about who “N” is.
“You wanna explain this?” He holds up the note before enveloping it within his fist.
I blink at his choice of tone, breaking free of the momentary fog I’d previously succumb to. Oh, no he didn’t.
I gape at him in disbelief, wondering where the hell he found the audacity to come at me over a flower arrangement when he hasn’t so much as attempted to explain his little disappearing act last weekend.
When Luc got back from Long Island late that afternoon, for a brief moment I thought he was gonna address it. That maybe, for once, we’d have an honest conversation and be forced to confront everything that is so very broken with us. But when I never brought it up, his tension eased, and he seemed content letting sleeping dogs lie.
But now he wants to climb on his high horse and toss an accusatory tone at me?
I don’t think so, buddy. You want to sling shit over my indiscretions? That’s fine. But you crawl down into the fucking gutter beside me where you belong while you do it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I arch a brow. “Sure, Luc. I’ll explain this as soon as you admit what you were doing on Saturday when you were supposed to be registering for our wedding with me.”
“Oh, don’t give me this shit again, Daphne,” he bites out. “I told you I was working.”
“Fine.” I shrug. “Then that—” I gesture to the crumpled piece of cardstock in his hold. “—is nothing.”
I spin to take my leave, only to halt when his palm encircles my bicep.
“Why is Nick Conners sending you flowers, Daphne?” His grip on me tightens, the pressure causing me to wince in response.
“Ow, Luc!” I hiss. He glances down to his hold, allowing me to pull my arm free. “Jesus. I bumped into Nicky in the store when you didn’t show. He walked around with me for a little bit.” Not a total lie.
“You’re telling me Nicky was just strolling around a home goods store the same day we were scheduled to be registering for our wedding? That doesn’t seem the slightest bit odd to you?”
