Chapter 52
Daniel
I woke up surprisingly early, despite the night out for my birthday.
While it wasn’t the normal party I partook of each year, we still had a risky combination of alcohol.
Champagne. Sake. Beer. It was a true boys’ night out and I was surprised and grateful that my brother and best friend actually listened.
I’m sure they were originally planning bottle service or a hotel suite, but the pool hall had been perfect.
We had stayed until closing, shooting pool and talking about my next move with Heart.
For all being bachelors, I realized we did have some romantic bones in our bodies.
They made me face the harsh reality that if I really wanted to be the man I said I wanted to be, which was a father and a husband, I needed to realize that money couldn’t buy that.
And if it could, then it wasn’t the right woman.
We came up with various scenarios where I could win her back. I’m sure if anyone were listening to our conversation it would be ridiculously humorous. Three guys at a pool hall with pints of beer and talking about romantic gestures.
“You could write her letters,” suggested Brody.
“Letters?” I asked, raising a questioning brow.
“Yeah. A letter every day—”
“You’ve been watching The Notebook too many times.”
“ You watch The Notebook?” interjected Freddy, casting Brody a surprised glance.
“The ladies love it,” said Brody, puffing his chest out.
“I think you love it.” Freddy laughed.
“Whatever. That romantic shit works.”
“Letters would make sense if we didn’t live in the same city…” I mused.
“Brooklyn and Manhattan are basically different cities,” said Freddy.
I rolled my eyes and took a long sip of beer before we started coming up with different alternatives.
Now that I was awake at six in the morning, all the alternatives seemed a little hazy now thanks to the pints of beer.
I do know they had just become more and more ridiculous as the night went on.
Talks of ginormous cakes and flying storks and hiring a band to play outside her window.
They were all laughable now. I lay in bed trying to remember them all, but gave up. None of them were right.
There was a part of me that wondered if I was stalling out of fear.
Fear of rejection. Fear of losing the little bit of a dream.
So much had already slipped through my fingers like sand.
I felt like I was desperately grappling to hold on to it, but more time was passing and I was losing the real possibility of being a part of Heart’s life. The baby’s life.
I sat up suddenly in bed and made the mental decision that today was the day. No letters. No grand gestures. No frills. I would simply show up as myself.
Quickly, I washed up in the bathroom and was about to get dressed when I realized it was barely past six in the morning. As much as I wanted to see Heart, I figured I should at least show up to her place at a more respectable hour.
I padded down the hall to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
As it brewed, I settled into a barstool at my kitchen island.
I unlocked my phone and began scrolling through the news as a way of distracting myself from the day ahead.
A day that could end in a true goodbye, or a day that a new life would start.
I read the latest business articles for tech and smiled to myself as I saw my company at the top of the morning’s headlines.
They were teasing what the new product might be.
They didn’t know what we were launching, but everyone had their guesses.
Some were right. Some were way off. Either way, it had everyone talking, which was increasing the company’s market value, which was where I browsed to next to see how my investments were doing.
As I browsed and scrolled, I realized it had been a few weeks since I had seen my face in the tabloids.
While I hadn’t gone looking, I would usually hear from my publicist if something was off color.
Kiera had been surprisingly quiet. She hadn’t released any more statements about upcoming nuptials or our time in Bora Bora.
Maybe she had really gotten the hint after all. She had to eventually. We were through.
Just out of curiosity, I clicked the tab for the gossip pages.
Most of the headlines were about a celebrity affair and a major divorce.
I kept scrolling and then I saw a picture of Kiera looking drunk off her ass, leaving a benefit event with a man twice her age.
The headline read: Do We Ship Shipley’s New Romance?
I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Some things never changed.
I was just glad I wasn’t any part of that anymore.
I walked over to pour myself a cup of coffee and went to the living room and looked out the large windows at the city below.
The steam from my coffee warmed my face as I watched the light change from purple to an orange glow as the sun began to rise.
It really felt like a new day.
I texted Brody, who I was certain was still asleep and probably hungover. I had gone home after the pool hall, but who knew what Freddy and him got up to afterward. They were in the mood to party more, but I had Armand drive me home, much to their disappointment.
Probably not coming in today. I’m about to go full Notebook.
I hit send and sat on the couch to drink my coffee. The minutes felt like they were dragging on. When it finally hit seven in the morning, I went to shower and change. I slid on a pair of dark denim jeans and a black crewneck before texting Armand to meet me in the parking garage.
It was still early, but I figured I could make a stop along the way and the traffic to Brooklyn would probably tack on another hour. I just knew I couldn’t be in my apartment anymore. I had to keep this momentum going before I lost my nerve.
“Where to, Mr. Jacobs?” asked Armand as he slid into the driver’s seat.
“Is there a nearby florist?”
“All the florists are closed at this hour.”
Disappointed, I chewed on my cheek as I thought of an alternative.
“But the flower market should be open. It’s where the florists get all of their supplies,” offered Armand with a smile.
I wondered if he knew what I was up to.
“Great. Take me there, please,” I said.
Twenty minutes later we pulled up to a long stretch of sidewalk that was lined on one side with black awnings hanging over fresh greenery and colorful flowers.
As I stepped out of the car, I was immediately hit with sweet and earthy smells.
I had never seen anything like it. I began walking up the sidewalk, feeling slightly overwhelmed.
I usually had a florist put something together.
I stopped and looked at the selection of roses, rubbing my chin with my fingers.
“May I make a suggestion?” I heard Armand say.
I turned around and saw him standing there hesitantly. I thought he had stayed in the car, but here he was trying to help me.
“Please do,” I said.
“Well, blue hyacinths are a representation of ‘making peace’ and they are slightly more unexpected than roses, although when mixed together can make a beautiful bouquet.”
I looked at him in surprise.
“I’ve had a few bicker matches with my wife.” He shrugged before giving me a smile.
He knew exactly what I was up to.
“How did you fix it?” I asked.
He sighed and looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Communication,” he said. “It seems so small. Such a small gesture. But talking to each other is what really works. What really matters.”
I nodded as I thought about his words. Everything I had done in the past had just been a Band-Aid.
A monetary quick fix. A large check and prettily wrapped boxes wouldn’t get us to the heart of the issue.
I realized I had relied on my money out of fear.
Fear that the words wouldn’t come out right or that they wouldn’t be enough.
I wondered when I had become that person.
“Flowers help, too,” said Armand with a wink.
For the next twenty minutes, I followed him through the flower market and he began explaining the different ones to me.
He told me the meaning behind each one, and I started to wonder if he was a florist in a previous life.
We began pulling various flowers from their fresh water containers.
With Armand’s help, we put together a bouquet of blue hyacinths, pale pink roses, and white orchids.
While each had their own meaning, they all had the same message of “I’m sorry. ” And I owed Heart a big one.
As I looked around the market at the bustling morning crowd, I wondered how many of these people were trying to make things right too. I knew flowers wouldn’t be nearly enough, but I hoped they would be a beautiful reminder of how I wanted to be in Heart’s life. And in our baby’s life.
As we walked back to the car, I put my hand on Armand’s back, making him turn to face me.
“Thank you, Armand. Really. I mean that,” I said gratefully.
“Of course, Mr. Jacobs.” He nodded.
He looked hesitant for a moment before speaking again. “If I’m not being too bold, Mr. Jacobs…”
“What is it?” I asked.
“That one was special. I have never seen you like that with any other woman.”
I gave him a soft smile, realizing we had never really ever talked about anything personal. In all the years he had worked for me, this was as deep as we had ever gotten. I guessed I never realized all the time we actually spent together. All the things he knew about me and had witnessed over time.
“She was special. Is special,” I corrected myself.
“Let’s go get her,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.
I laughed and got in the car. This man was getting a big bonus at the end of the year.
As we began our drive to Brooklyn, I suddenly thought of something as I realized where we were.
“Armand,” I said, leaning forward in my seat hurriedly.
“Yes, Mr. Jacobs?”
“One more stop, please.”
“Where to?”
“The coffee shop. The one with the tea. You know the one.”
He nodded and made the necessary turn before it was too late. I hopped out of the car and stood in the long line of morning commuters. I tapped my foot impatiently, feeling a mix of anxiousness and excitement bubbling in me.
When it was my turn to order, I ordered an herbal tea. The same tea I had taken to Brooklyn all those months ago when I would drive Heart into the city for work. It felt like a lifetime ago, if I were being honest. When things were better. When things were right.
I held the cup in my hands, its warmth seeping into my skin as we approached the Brooklyn Bridge. The tea brought me back to all those long car rides as we really got to know each other.
I solely concentrated on the heat on my hands and the smell of the flowers because it was all I could to not lose my nerve.
My phone buzzed. I slipped it out of my jacket pocket. It was a text from Brody: Go get her back, bro.
I smiled down at my phone before returning it to my pocket. I hoped more than anything that I could.