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An hour later, while I'm seeing if there's anything I can do to get that account back, Kendall asks, “Want anything from the café? I’m about to…” She looks past me toward the elevator, eyes widening. “Hold thatthought.”
I follow her gaze to see a huge spray of flowers walk in the door. Or technically it’s being carried by a delivery man. I go to meet him, taking in the overwhelming riot of lush, bright pinkflowers.
“Gerbera daisies,” I murmur, instructing him to set them on the glass table in our foyer. The delivery barely fits on thetabletop.
“Eight dozen,” heconfirms.
Serena and Kendall come up behind me. “What’s goingon?”
I open the card and huff out abreath.
"‘You're my something good. Ben,’" Kendall reads over myshoulder.
Oh boy. It’s sweet andromantic.
And eight dozen - that can’t be for the eight years we’ve been friends, can it? It’s almost obscenely thoughtful, and not at all likeBen.
The outrageous display and the message should have me rolling my eyes, but I don’t hateit.
Not even alittle.
“What is that?” Rena points into the middle of thearrangement.
I peer into the flower stems toward the spot she’s indicating. Jet’s attached to one of the stems in the middle of the arrangement with a piece of ribbon that matches the daisies, along with anote.
Meet the car downstairs.
Ishould ignore it,but I’m wondering where it all leads. I’m curious what Ben’s idea of an apology is, and what he thinks he’s apologizingfor.
Since I have a couple of hours free, I grab my bag and headdownstairs.
The towncar is empty when I shift into the backseat, the driver navigating to a destination he refuses to divulge until we’rethere.
I step out at the curb, casting my eyes up at the fanciest spa on the Upper EastSide.
“Daisy,” the smiling, slender woman at the desk greets me. “We’re all ready for you. You have half an hour to relax before yourtreatments.”
I follow her to a private steam room with a huge bathtub. Floating on top of the water in the tub is a blow-up doll with a picture of Henry Cavill’s face taped to its head. Its hand rests on a bottle of tequila occupying the marble shelf behind thetub.
The feeling starts low in my stomach, bubbles up to mychest.
It’s a tingling, tickling warmth, and despite the fancy surroundings I can hold in the burst of laughter that ringsout.
It’s easy to forget on the worst day that we can still find humor inthings.
When I’m holding my stomach, my muscles already sore from laughing, I pull out my phone and hit acontact.
“You shouldn’t have. Really.” I poke the plastic doll’sface.
“It’s supposed to be the best bathing experience in New York,” Ben responds warmly. “You likeit?”
“It’s astart.”
“Tell me what you want and it’s yours. Though if it involves daisies, I might need twenty-four hours—I bought out everything in Midtown.” He exhales heavily. “I wanted to do something for you. You did something for me by going to see my mom, and I didn’t acknowledgethat.”
I shake my head. “Ben, it’s not about wanting your thanks in exchange for the visit. It’s not about the transaction. I don’t do business that way, and I sure as hell don’t do relationships thatway.”
He hesitates before responding. “I don’t do relationships anyway.”
