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Finally, Crystal is right about something. I should call Fynn. Tell him maybe Jessica isn’t the only reason he’s having so much trouble scoring a date. He could have at least written the damn note himself. It’s a handful of freaking words for Christ’s sake.
I glare at myself in the mirror, eyes narrowing at my reflection as I weigh my options. I can tell Fynn to take his beautiful flowers and half-assed apology and shove them up his well-toned butt. Forget this whole plan and stand my ground when my father and Warren find me.
And they will find me.
I wish I could believe I’d be capable of it. That I’m finally strong enough to hold my own against them. But it wouldn’t just be them I’d be taking on, and that’s what has me hesitating. Part of what has me hesitating.
I look back at the card in my hand, eyes narrowing at the half-assed apology.
No. Fuck him. I’m not letting Fynn force me to back down and give up the way I always have. If I’ve learned nothing else from my time with him, it’s that he needs me as much as I need him. And I’m going to make him see that.
I smile, feeling hopeful for the first time since Fynn walked away from me yesterday. Hopeful and a little excited. Fynn might think he’s told me goodbye, but he’s going to be seeing this face again. Soon.
Whether he likes it or not.
THE TINY SET of bells hanging on the glass door fills the shop with soft jingling as I step inside the small space situated in downtown Sweet Side. The chilly air of the interior smells green and fresh and is a welcome change from the muggy humidity outside.
“Can I help you?”
I lean to one side, trying to peek at the man behind the counter around the giant flowers I’m doing my best not to ruin. In spite of their irritating origins, they are beautiful and I would hate to see anything happen to them, which is why I carried them here instead of trying to cram them into my car—a decision I was regretting two blocks into the five-block journey.
A tall, thin-framed man with a tight fade, eyes the vase in my arms, one well-groomed brow lifting in question as our eyes meet.
“I hope so.” I step forward, taking a second to wrestle the flowers onto the counter between us. The damn things are heavy as hell and my arms are burning from exertion. I give him a sweet smile in spite of my sweaty, breathless state, hoping I can butter him up enough to get the information I’m pretty sure he’s not going to want to give me.
“I was wondering if the man who ordered these flowers for me actually came in here this morning.” I pull the card out and slide it toward the guy still watching me with a wary gaze. “Because, while the handwriting is beautiful, I don’t think it’s his, which means he couldn’t even take the time to write the damn card himself.”
The man’s dark eyes narrow. Then his face splits into a wide smile. “That’s a dick move, isn’t it?”
“Right?” I lean against the counter, feeling slightly less winded and a tiny bit more confident. “At first I was considering forgiving him because,” I motion to the flowers, “I mean, who wouldn’t with flowers like this? They’re stunning.” I let out a sigh. “But then I saw that card and it just pissed me off all over again.”
The man rests his elbows on the counter, propping his chin on one hand. “So what are you going to do?”
“Well,” I pause a second, nervous to make my move, “I was thinking I would take his flowers back to him and tell him he can shove them.” I hesitate again because the next bit is the tricky part. The part I need his help with. “But I don’t know where he lives.”
“That’s unfortunate, because it sounds like this guy really deserves a visit from you.” The man across the counter sighs. “I wish I could help you, but I can’t give out information like that.” He leans in. “It would be illegal.” Suddenly, he straightens, one hand pushing a spiral bound book across the counter toward me as he spins to look in the direction of the back room, yelling toward the open door. “What?”
He turns back my way. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back.” He winks before walking away, leaving me staring at the name on the book he put in front of me.
And the address that goes along with it.
Fynn Hadaway
14 Ocean Ave. #14
The air rushes from my lungs as I memorize the location. Thank God for all the fourteen’s and a simple street name, because I’m not sure my adrenaline-addled brain could handle anything more complicated.
I grab my flowers and start to leave. “Shit.” Angling back around, I shift the heavy arrangement to one arm so I can grab the card from the counter and tuck it back into the pocket of the wrap dress I tied on hoping to sweeten my proposed deal with some leg and cleavage. I hurry outside, teetering in my heels as I spin to get my bearings. Sliding my phone from my purse I swipe open the screen and carefully type the address into the maps app. Directions populate and I let out a groan when I see Fynn’s place is two blocks back the direction I just came. This better work, because hauling these flowers all over Sweet Side is turning out to be exhausting.
I wind through the people cluttering the street, dodging older women juggling shopping bags and men in suits with cell phones glued to their ears. My hair is sticking to my neck and my feet are starting to ache, but I don’t slow down. I’ve come so far and I can’t stop now. Not when I’m so close.
Hopefully so close.
Once I reach Ocean Avenue I hang a left, breathing out a sigh of relief when Fynn’s building comes into view. It’s not as tall as some of the buildings in Sweet Side, but that’s probably because it doesn’t have to be. There are only a couple smaller structures standing between it and the ocean, so anyone from the third floor up has sweeping views of the water. It’s only two blocks from Crystal’s apartment, but the two places seem worlds away at this point.
And I haven’t even gone in yet.
Taking a solidifying breath, I march toward the glass doors leading inside. I jostle the flowers to one side, hopefully for the last time, and open the door, coming face to face with a security guard. He’s the last hurdle I have in this journey, so I give him the same smile that’s gotten me this far. “Hello.”
