5. Jovie
JOVIE
Oh my god.
That was too close.
I press a hand against my wild beating heart when his car drives away. He was so nice, nicer than I’m being to him which only has me feeling worse about sending him flowers. No one sends a man like him anything—especially flowers.
Luca and I never talked about how much money he or his family had, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know they are extremely wealthy. Between the gifts Luca liked to get me and how he and his father dress, conversation isn’t needed when it’s obvious.
I never felt out of place financially with Luca.
Even though I’m not a millionaire, the flower shop does very well.
I live a comfortable life and all I can think about right now is what happens when Santino figures out the truth.
Will he try to take away my business? How will he retaliate?
The best-case scenario is that he never talks to me again and I don’t even want to think about the worst case.
The way his dark green eyes held mine is the only image in my head.
I wouldn’t care if I got in trouble by him and it was that intense gaze staring me down.
I’ve never seen a color like his eyes before.
They are a dark green with black rings around the iris and the color itself reminds me of a forest at night. Lush green leaves hidden in the dark.
When Santino made that off comment about his looks, I couldn’t help myself. I had to tell him in some way that he was very good looking.
I could be wrong, but I’m positive, we were flirting which only makes me feel worse about sending him flowers. It was a joke at first and now the anger has passed. It isn’t funny anymore. It’s hurtful. Santino doesn’t deserve this.
“Get ahold of yourself, Jovie. You and him will never happen. Get that fantasy out of your head.” I move like a robot to snag the next order receipt and read what it says to try to get my mind off Santino.
“Tulips and daisies. A lot of them. I fucked up. Please make this bouquet amazing.”
I snicker at the note left on the printed receipt.
I must get a handful of these per day. Significant others always rush to place an order when they fight with their partners.
A lot of the times, they need something quick for an apology, but flowers don’t fix everything.
Flowers shouldn’t be used to sway someone’s anger.
The gift itself is a temporary fix. If someone’s partner only gets them flowers when they argue, where is the love there?
Every day there is supposed to be a show of love, and it doesn’t need to be expensive flowers.
It can be a cute note. A cup of coffee. Playing a game together.
That’s where the love is.
Flowers, eventually die, just like apologies when promises aren’t kept.
Don’t get me wrong, I will always appreciate and admire a beautiful bouquet but that doesn’t change or fix the root of the problem.
Just like Luca tried to buy my love and loyalty with gifts, it didn’t fix the underlying problem of him cheating or wanting more.
Gathering the different colored tulips and bright white daisies with perfect yellow centers, I begin to place them in the tulip vase he added to his order.
I love the flower shaped vases. They are more expensive and are from a lovely older gentleman who owns the pottery store down the road.
I buy a few vases from him every week. They sell out more than the regular glass vases.
My phone dings with a message and I’m tempted to ignore it. I have an entire stack of orders to get through today. If I’m distracted, I’ll get behind and be unable to have these delivered on time.
Another ding has me sighing with impatience. I’m nearly done with the order. All I have to do is wrap a pretty ribbon around the vase and print the card with a special note on it for the customer.
The snap of scissors is music to my ears when I cut the sheer pink sparkly ribbon and tie it into a big bow. I step back, tilt my head, and grin when I realize it’s absolutely perfect. Picking it up, I set it down on the desk with the other finished orders.
Turning the button on my phone, the screen lights up, and my eyes round when I see a message from an unknown number.
My hands tremble when I pick up the phone, my face becoming hot with deceit.
Unknown Number: “Who is this?”
Unknown Number: “I have received two bouquet deliveries with this number on the card, and I need to know who you are. This is Santino Salvati. I don’t play nice with others if this is meant to be a threat.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. Oh god.” I press my hand against my forehead and look around the room for someone, something to save me from this.
“I should have never sent those flowers. My bluff has been called. What do I do?” I begin to spiral, spinning in a circle hysterically to try to find a way to answer his message.
What have I done?
“Deep breath, Jovie. You got yourself into this. Now, it’s time for you to get yourself out.”
I stare at his messages, tapping my fingers on the desk. A million thoughts are running through my mind. There are only a few ways to go about this. I follow along with my original plan, talk to him, flirt a little, maybe it goes somewhere or maybe it doesn’t. Or I tell him the truth right now.
That’s the smart move. I’ll text him to tell him what my plan was and beg for forgiveness.
My fingers hover over the keyboard and I chew nervously on my bottom lip. Bubbles on his end pop up and I hold my breath.
Santino: “If you don’t answer, I will ignore any and all deliveries you send. You want my attention. You have it. Who are you?”
I go against my instincts because there is still a pilot light inside me that burns with need to have Santino be mine and have Luca be furious that I had the audacity to go after his father.
Me: “I can’t tell you that. All I know is that I want to get to know you better. Did you like the flowers?”
Santino: “If I don’t know who you are, then how do I know if I can trust you?”
Santino: “Men don’t typically get flowers.”
I bend down and press my elbows against the desk, grinning with my newfound confidence.
Me: “I promise you can trust me. I know that means nothing right now but as you continue to talk to me, you’ll find out on your own. And that’s not what I asked. I asked if you liked the flowers.”
Santino: “I don’t usually talk to people I don’t know. This is unusual. I’m not a very trusting person. I could track this number and find out who you are in minutes.”
“Oh, fuck. I didn’t think of that.” I bang my forehead on the edge of the counter, groaning from such a rookie mistake. Of course, he can track it. “You idiot.” This is a bad plan. If he were to call me and it went to voicemail, he’d hear my personalized voice message.
I didn’t think this through enough.
Santino: “Watch the attitude, even if I like it, but yes, I like the flowers. It’s a gesture I’m not used to.”
“Be calm. You can do this, Jovie.” I hype myself up, hoping it won’t blow up in my face.
Me: “I’m glad. I’ll send more, then, to remind you you’re on my mind.”
“Oh, that’s good. High-five, Jovie,” I say to no one but myself.
Me: “Why haven’t you tracked me, then? If you can, why don’t you?”
Him: “I’ll be looking forward to it. And I don’t know, I think I’m curious about you more than anything and I like the uncertainty and not knowing. I’m not sure how long I’ll like it for, but for now, I’m enjoying it.”
Me: “I don’t plan to remain a secret forever. I’m hoping to talk to you, to get to know you, and then reveal myself.”
Santino: “So you’re trying to seduce me? Is that it?”
Me: “Maybe.”
Santino: “Hmm, maybe? I like conviction, Ms. Smith.”
Me: “Well, Mr. Smith, then the answer is yes, but first, I want you us to get to know each other first. I’m not the kind of girl to fall into bed with someone on the first night.”
I like the nicknames. It shows that he is interested.
He is flirting, letting down his guard. I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m not.
The only lie here is why this plan started and why I’m not revealing identity.
Other than that, whatever him and I talk about will be genuine.
Hopefully, when all this is said and done, he will forgive me easily.
Santino: “What kind of woman are you?”
Me: “I’m not hard to please. I’m not high maintenance. I enjoy the little things the most. I’m a hard worker. I love beautiful sunny days, but when it rains, I love to cuddle on the couch with a big blanket and put on a comfort show. What kind a man are you?”
Santino: “I’m not sure how honest you want me to be. I’m a dangerous man, protective, intense. I don’t take nonsense very well. What is mine, is mine. I’ll do whatever I need to do to own, to claim, and to conquer. I’m intense. I wouldn’t consider myself the cuddling type.”
“Wow,” I breathe, fanning myself with my hand.
Is it possible for a heart to flutter? Who am I kidding, every place on my body that has a pulse is fluttering as if I have wings.
Me: “Not the cuddling type? That could be a problem. I love a broad chest to lie my head down on.”
Santino: “I didn’t say I wouldn’t try it if it were with the right person. I’ve been alone for a long time. Being in someone else’s presence that requires me to be… soft, has been very limited over the years.”
Me: “Is it too soon to ask why?”
Santino: “It is.”
Santino: “For now. I don’t open up to anyone. I don’t know you or know who you are or what you will do with any information I give you. I can’t trust you.”
Santino: “Yet.”
Me: “Sounds promising. Sounds like maybe you’d like to keep talking to me?”
Santino: “You’ve piqued my interest. No one has ever gone to such lengths to talk to me before. If you have ill intentions, I will find out, and I promise, it won’t be good for you.”
I gulp, wondering how far the definition of ‘ill intentions’ goes.
Me: “I’m far from a threat. I only want to get to know you.
I haven’t told you my identity because I’m not ready to let you know.
That has more to do with me needing the safety to hide behind the flowers and not giving my name.
One day, I will. When you find out, you can do whatever you want with the information, even if it means you never want to talk to me again, but I do not want to hurt you or anyone else. ”
Santino: “As time goes on, we will see, won’t we?”
He’s a hard man to convince but I refuse to give up. It’s more than revenge now.
I have a crush on my ex’s father, and I want him to want me in return.
Maybe it’s time for another round of flowers.