Page 95 of Manhattan Bossholes

“No, Vincent, I can’t. I’m working. Just say what you need to say and go.”

“Please.”

There was desperation in the single syllable.

I sighed. “Fine. But you only get three minutes,” I grumbled as I jogged back to grab my keys so I could lock up behind me.

“Let’s take the stairs,” I said. “It’s only four floors.”

It was four long flights of stairs, but I wasn’t about to get trapped in the elevator with Vincent. Even just a hint of his cologne would remind me of pressing my nose against his neck and breathing him in, and that was a level of emotional self-sabotage I couldn’t handle. I had to stay as far away from him as possible, because my body could betray me if he got too close. I practically sprinted down the stairs to keep a buffer between us.

Dignity mattered, but not as much as self-preservation.

“Hold on,” Vincent called after me as I started to push against the door to the street. “Don’t go out yet.”

I harumphed as I turned around to face him. “What is your deal? You were the one begging me to come out just a minute ago!” I huffed, annoyance bubbling up again.

“Just wait a sec,” he puffed as he caught up to me. “Piper, before you go out, I want you to know that this is all for you.”

He pushed open the door, and my jaw dropped when I looked outside.

The entire block around our office had been transformed into a wonderland of blooms. Everywhere I looked, from the mailboxes to the light poles to the construction signs, was draped in lilacs. The lush purple and white blooms were threaded around every surface.

“What?” I asked in a whisper, utterly dumbfounded.

“I did it for you,” Vincent replied.

I walked out in a trance. How in the world had he gotten the lilac garland up the side of my building? Why was a trashcan transformed into a lush arrangement of deep purple blooms and spiraled greenery? Every direction I turned, lilacs. There were so many that the street was perfumed with them.

“I collected all seventy-five different shades,” Vincent explained as he gestured toward the over-the-top display. “They’re all here, every one.”

He pointed, and I was shocked to discover the explosion of blossoms continued down the block. My mouth went dry, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know what to say.

It was too much, too beautiful, too…Vincent. A grand, sweeping gesture that made it all but impossible to breathe, let alone think straight. But amid the overwhelming beauty of it all, one thought lodged itself stubbornly in my brain: What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

“But…why?” I asked.

He blinked at me as confusion settled in his expression. “You said lilacs were your favorite flowers. At the farmers’ market.”

“I mean, yeah, they are.” I gestured around. “But why this?”

A group of teenage girls passing by asked me to take a photo of them posed next to a wreath of flowers in the shape of a heart, which gave me a few seconds to think about something other than what he’d done.

For me, apparently.

Vincent was staring at me when I handed the phone back to the girls. “Do you like it?”

“The lilacs are stunning.”

His face brightened. “I’m glad. I thought you deserved something special after…everything that happened.”

My heart did a three second polka, but I forced myself to calm down. It was a lovely gesture, but not the response I needed after what he’d done to my heart. And worse, he’d just distanced himself by saying “everything that happened” and not “what I did.”

“I appreciate that.”

The sidewalk was packed with gawkers, so Vincent motioned for me to follow him to a less crowded stretch of sidewalk, right next to a vacant storefront that had a giant silver bucket filled with blossoms blocking the doorway.

“I have a few things I’d like to say to you,” Vincent began haltingly.