Chapter Thirty-Four Goldie
Chapter Thirty-Four
Goldie
“Call in.”
Noah’s voice is full of gravel, the way it always is in the morning when he first wakes up. And it’s seductive. I grin, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I put my boot on, picturing him rubbing his chest.
“I can’t. You know that. Plus, I don’t think you’re seeing this through the correct fiscal lenses.
For those of us who are still aspiring to greatness but living in ‘assistant to’ floral positions, it’s great.
Work helps with those little things like eating and buying new furniture for our new apartment. ”
He laughs. And I love the sound.
The thought makes me smile—even though these last two weeks have been hell.
We were almost killed. There were too many interviews with detectives that led to conversations about his legal name change to Noah Adler, which I supported.
But it was all stressful. He also got the job in LA, which meant we’d had to separate again.
But that bump in the road is only temporary because today is my last day at work, and then I’m boarding a plane and landing just in time to watch the sunrise with my man.
“Trust me,” I tease, “the wait will be worth it . . . I have see-through lingerie.”
He groans, and this time I laugh, which makes me drop my purse while trying to gather all my stuff like a hot mess hoarder.
I sit on a chair by my sister’s entryway as I plop everything in my hands onto my lap, then put on my jacket and gloves. It’s colder than usual for November. But really, I just want to soak him up a little bit longer.
“I miss you,” I breathe out.
He sighs, and I can almost feel it.
“Rexy, trust me. I miss you more.” A meow in the background makes a smile peek out as I pick at the broken polish on my nails. “And I’m not the only one,” he groans. “I’ve been waiting for her to shit in my shoe again, but I think she’s too sad for spite.”
Leave it to me to reconcile a broken home.
“Her love is justified. I feed her the good stuff. But I’m glad everyone’s sad because it’s me that can barely eat,” I tease. “I’m wasting away over here. That’s how much I miss the two of you. It’s honestly worrisome. I might have to call someone soon, like Domino’s.”
He chuckles. “Funny, because I haven’t slept in two weeks. I’ve been a zombie. Bloodshot eyes and all. I bet I get fired soon.”
I kick my feet out, crossing them at the ankle. I love this game.
“Well, at least you can sue for discrimination. Yesterday, I cried all day. The neighbors called the cops. Thought I was unwell, in need of—”
“Sweet lovin’?” he tosses out, cutting me off and making me smile.
“Mmm. Yeah, I think that was the professional diagnosis. One glass of wine and a hefty injection of—”
“Protein? I hear a balanced diet can really improve your mood.”
As his voice wafts through the phone again like pheromones, I giggle and hear him yawn, so I close my eyes, trying to picture exactly where he is in our new bedroom and what that looks like.
“All that’s sad for you. But honestly, I win because I’ve been contemplating entering one of those slapping contests . . . just so I can feel again.”
I laugh loudly. “You’re stupid.”
“I’m at rock bottom,” he whines in the most boyish way, and it melts me. “I’m two seconds away from calling your job and begging them to give me my baby.” He groans. “Call out . . . call out, call out. Quit and leave right now. I promise I’ll spend all night eating whipped cream off your body.”
I fake cry but mean it, stomping both feet on my hardwood floors.
“You’re the worst,” I gripe, gathering all my crap off my lap and fumbling before shoving it in my purse. With a smile, I add, “I thought you were a feminist. You’re a terrible boyfriend not to support my dreams of money and respect.”
He laughs like a villain while I head to my front door, then lock it behind me as I leave.
“Joke’s on you, Rexy. I am supporting your dreams. I’ll give you plenty to write about. Something I would’ve thought my writer girlfriend would appreciate. Then again, we’ve been apart for two weeks, and not even one poem for me?”
I laugh again. He’s ridiculous. “Are you accusing me of not being a romantic? How dare you, sir.”
I walk to my car through the slushy, half-melted snow before clicking it open and tossing my purse inside, then put my phone on speaker.
He’s still talking shit as I slide inside and start the car, pulling my glove off with my teeth and holding it there while I type.
If he could see me, the look on my face would give away what’s about to come.
The swishing sound of my message makes my brows rise in anticipation. He chuckles.
“Hold, please. I suddenly have a very important text to read.”
I see the bubbles populate on our text chain. Noah must put me on speaker because he recites it aloud.
“Roses are red. Violets are blue. Stop giving me shit, or I’ll get a pew-pew.”
The laughter from his end of the phone bursts through the speaker, making me do the same before I speak over it.
“Now, say goodbye to me,” I tell him. “And say that you’ll be miserable until tomorrow, when we worship each other on a blanket in front of the fireplace. I’m bringing snacks.”
I bite my lip. “You are the snack, but fine,” he says, giving in, and it’s way too attractive. “Goodbye . . .” He mumbles the rest like one big run-on sentence. “See you tomorrow, when we worship each other on a blanket in front of the ocean.”
“’Kay, bye.”
A long beat of silence hangs there, neither of us hanging up. The way I love him tugs at my whole body, trying to get out.
But then Noah says, “Bye, Rexy.”
I have to let out a long breath before checking myself in the mirror. This time tomorrow, your life starts all over again, I think to myself with a smile before I pull onto the street, working on autopilot.
The drive is fast, mostly because I’m still stuck in my thoughts, until I park and finally zap back into the present.
It’s bittersweet to say goodbye to work. I’m determined to write in Los Angeles, but I’ll miss this place and the people inside it.
I stay inside my head the whole way in, over the gravel from my space in the back of the brick building to the moment I touch the brass door handle. I don’t even look up until it’s swinging open.
The smell almost knocks me off my feet first. “Fragrant” isn’t the correct word. This is an assault on my senses. Like when little kids get into their mom’s perfume and put every bottle on.
Every kind of arrangement, big and small, from roses to lilies, litters the floor and most of the counter space. The entire back stockroom is vases and boxes of chocolates with little stuffed animal bears adorned with sweaters that say I love you beary much.
“Oh my god,” I let out, shock hitting me hard as I lock eyes with Lee, who’s nodding in agreement with my shock.
I point to the contemporary Garden of Eden, rubbing my glossy lips together.
“Are all these deliveries for today? Were you guys trying to make it so I’d never want to come back?”
“Yep.” Lee laughs. “We don’t even have many flowers left. We’re down to only what’s left in the front room cases to sell.”
My eyes are bugging out. It’s way more than I anticipated delivering today. I really will be here until I leave for the airport.
“Wow. Okay,” I breathe out. “Let me put my purse and coat away, and I’ll start loading the van. Yay, love, I guess. It’s not even Valentine’s Day.”
He gives me a thumbs-up as he looks away. “The good thing is, they’re pretty much all going to the same place. You’re just going to have to do multiple runs there.”
I slide my purse under a counter, having to teeter over two dozen roses. “No way. All of these are for the same person?” I look around again. “That’s so romantic. God, can you imagine being that girl?”
Lee smirks. “Bet she’s really good with her hands.”
“Eww,” I counter, trading my coat for my work apron from the hooks on the back wall. “Don’t ruin it. It’s so romantic.”
“Or a good apology.”
“I said don’t ruin it.” I laugh.
I wrap the long strings around my waist before tying them in a bow, all while picturing some random woman’s joy.
“Lucky girl,” I say to myself.
But as I lean down to grab the first vaseful of gorgeous violets, Lee looks up from some daffodils he’s wrapping. “Hold up. Start with the ones in the front room.”
My head snaps up. “The front room? That’s full too. Stop it . . .”
I start walking that way, making my way through the floral maze. Out of habit, I put my hands in the front pocket of the apron before my shoulder connects with the swinging door. I say, “Jesus, what is this guy trying to prove?”
But the moment I’m through, I freeze. All the air in my body is sucked out. Because what . . . What is happening? Noah’s standing in the middle of the room, vases and vases of baby’s breath packed in around him.
My favorites.
He smiles at me. “I’d say he’s trying to prove he loves you.”
“What?” My fingers instantly cover my mouth as I stare back at him, still unable to speak. Because . . . oh my god. I can feel myself blink too many times. And my heart’s thumping at an irregular rate.
He lets out a nervous breath.
“Goldie, I’ve been looking for the right moment to do this again, and I swear, everything kept making it impossible. So I decided it couldn’t wait any longer.”
He starts walking toward me, and goose bumps explode over my arms.
I keep glancing at the bushel of wildflowers mixed with my favorites in his hand and back to his eyes as he speaks.
“I figured if all the orders were for you, they’d have to give you the day off.”
Genius. I shake my head as I bite my bottom lip, still feeling like I can’t process what’s happening. My head swings over my shoulder, then back to him, before I repeat what he’s just said.
“The ones in the back are for me too? Wait . . .” My voice is shaky. “You told me to call in . . . How are you here? What’s happening?”
He bought me all the flowers. All of them.
Noah grins, then stops in front of me and forces me to look up at his face.
“It’s called skillful distraction. Although I did get worried for a minute I was too convincing and would have to think of a plan B.”
The flowers in his hand make it into mine. Not that I realize it because I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. And none of the three million thoughts whirling around in my head seem to stay in one place long enough for me to grab hold.
But then he looks at me. Really looks at me. And instead of feeling like I’m floating, I feel tethered to him, like I always do.
“I don’t know if this is the perfect moment .
. .” Noah rubs the back of his neck, because that’s what he does when he’s nervous, and his eyes drop to my lips before locking on my eyes.
“But I hope so because you have my heart . . . You always have. I asked you to marry me in this city once. And I’m gonna do it again because I love you, Goldie Monroe. ”
Am I blinking? Am I breathing?
His knuckles brush my jaw. “Baby . . . did you hear me?”
My chest feels tight, and I know my hands are starting to shake. Butterflies cyclone in my stomach as I look up at him.
“I already said ‘deal’; what more do you want from me?” I whisper with a grin.
Noah bends down, our faces so close we’re sharing all the air as he grins back.
“Good, because everyone’s waiting at the courthouse—I’m asking you to marry me today.”
“Say it again,” I add as his fingers tickle along my jaw.
“Marry me today,” he breathes, our foreheads touching. “I am so fucking in love with you.”
Pure joy washes over me as I throw my arms around his neck and seal our lips, saying yes to him over and over between kisses.
“I love you too. I love you. Love you. Love you. Love you. Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Noah holds me tight, his arms wrapped around my rib cage as he lifts me off the ground. And we kiss for what feels like an eternity until I pull away, a hazy glimmer in my eyes like I’m coming out of the best dream.
And I am.
“Mr. and Mrs. Noah Adler,” he whispers.
“I like the way that sounds, me plus you, forever.”