17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter seventeen
I t’s been ten days since the coffeehouse incident, and Cai has managed to wiggle his way into my thoughts every single day. First flowers and a card, then chocolates, then a book a day for four days, a fruit basket, a mug filled with more chocolate, an amethyst pendant, Chinese food, a porcelain cat—because why not—and now a dozen yellow tulips, my favorite. I gently place them in a vase filled with water while Deni tsk-tsks me.
“You don’t understand, Deni. I can’t break his heart. He’s too precious for some woman to come in like a wrecking ball, use him up, and throw him out. I can’t be sure I’m not using him to heal my mess, and my feelings for him are superficial, friendly, you know?” I sit across from her at my kitchen table.
She sips her coffee and rolls her eyes at the same time. Her dark curls are on point today, making me feel like a slob. It’s a work from home day, which I discovered will be a frequent perk of working for Christian Price.
She scoffs. “If you think for one second that I believe you’d throw him out you’re crazier than I thought. And trust me when I tell you, I already think you’re crazy for ignoring him.”
“How do I know I’m not using him as a distraction? That these feelings won’t fade after a few weeks, and I will have ruined our friendship?”
She daintily bites into a cookie, chews, wipes her mouth, and stares at me. “Honey, is there any way that anyone can know anything about how a relationship will go? I despised your brother the first six months I knew him, and now there’s no person I love more. You have to stop putting so much pressure on yourself to be perfect all the time.”
“I don’t put pressure on myself to be perfect.” Oof, even I don’t buy that line.
“Lies. All lies, and you know it. You’ve been a perfectionist since the day I met you.”
I scowl back at her. “Fine, but there isn’t anything wrong with wanting to do your best. Surgery was my life, and I was good at it.”
“So what?” Deni leans back in her seat, taunting me.
“It always felt like a gift from God, and now, not so much.”
“What I’m hearing is you’re either angry with God for letting your gift of healing be taken away, or you’re impatient with Him while waiting to see what good He brings from it.” She leans forward and gives it to me straight, just like she always does. “Yeah, you and every other person who’s had a rough day. Try having a rough day that lasts years. The more you run from the opportunities God presents to you, the harder your life will be and the more bitter you’ll become. Stop trying to figure it out for yourself. Get out of God’s way.”
“I’m not bitter, Deni. I’m sad.” I control the things I want to say because yelling at my sister-in-law for being right is a poor decision, something I seem to be making a lot lately.
“Maybe you don’t want to be, but you need to confront the real issue. It’s not Cai you’re worried about hurting, but yourself.” She stands and gathers her things. “I need to get back to the office, but think about it, okay? Call the man. He’s worth the effort, and you’d be a fool to walk away from him without at least talking this out with him first.”
I walk Deni to the door and hug her goodbye. “I’ll think about what you said, I promise.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Call me if you need to, okay?”
I nod and move to close the door behind her, but another delivery man approaches. Deni merely laughs on her way to her car while I wait for whatever comes next. I can’t imagine what else he might have sent me, but I sign on the dotted line and accept the package. In the comfort of my living room, I pull the tape off and open the box. Inside is a fluffy blanket, but once I pull it out, it reveals a multitude of other goodies. Candy, chocolate, romantic comedy novels, a coffee sampler, a tea sampler…even three different kinds of honey. Fuzzy socks, pajamas, and a booklight round out the care package.
Taped to the blanket is a handwritten note.
Whits,
When I bullied my way back into your life weeks ago, it was because Jax and I were worried about you. It turns out, maybe we should have let you have the space you needed to grieve. Please accept this box as a token of my understanding. Read, relax, recuperate, and have an amazing week.
Love, Cai
Thinking back over the past week, I realize it’s been pretty good. Working at the marketing firm has been a huge learning curve, as I anticipated, but everyone has been so kind. The first meeting with the new client went smashingly, and I’m well on my way to figuring this thing out with copious help from the employees. It turns out that my lack of marketing know-how is well balanced by the rest of the team’s complete lack of understanding where the inner workings of medical facilities are concerned. As a team, we work, which I suppose is the whole point.
There have been plenty of times when I didn’t even think about my hand. Over the past weeks, I’ve managed to make adjustments, just as my physical therapist had promised I would.
I even bought new plants and my reading stack has shrunk significantly.
The only thing missing, the only thing that would bring my happiness right now full circle, is the one person I’m afraid to call. How can I be sure Deni is right? I thought my ex and I were on the path to marriage, and he broke my heart over the phone right before the most devastating moment of my life took my career. What if I really, truly am wrong about my feelings for Cai?
Worse, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if I’m reading too much into his kind gestures?
I bring the blanket to my face and breathe it in, hoping it smells like Cai. It does. This isn’t some gift box you can go online and order, but something he lovingly and carefully put together for me.
“I owe you an explanation,” I say to myself. I sigh and hide my face in the blanket, breathing him in once more.
I pick up my phone, but every time I try to make the call, something holds me back. Pride, maybe, but I think it’s something more. Closing my eyes, I head to my bedroom with the package. I’ll change, lounge around and read, try to process what I’d even say to him, and hopefully by the time I figure it out, the nagging feeling that I’ll hurt him will have passed.