11. Freya
— ? —
Freya
Rex walked into the Ridgecrest lobby behind a bouquet so big the parents stopped talking to stare.
It had been a week since he’d ambushed me with his niece and his declarations of love.
A week of replaying his words in my head, lying awake at night wondering if I’d made the right choice, and touching my still-flat stomach and trying to figure out how I was supposed to raise a baby alone when I still wasn’t sure I could take care of myself.
I’d almost convinced myself he’d given up. That the Rex Waller I knew, the one who avoided confrontation with his family, who let his mother run roughshod over everything, who stayed silent when speaking up might have cost him something, would have accepted my rejection and moved on.
I should have known better.
The bouquet was roses. Hundreds of them, arranged in an intricate crystal vase.
Roses.
The flower I’d told him about on our anniversary, the one he’d brought up himself.
Emilia doesn’t know you hate roses because your aunt sent them after your mother’s funeral.
He’d said it like it proved something. Like knowing the small, sad pieces of me made him different from every other man who’d only ever seen an Evans daughter with a price tag.
And here he was, carrying three hundred of them through the lobby like a trophy.
Dana appeared at my elbow, her eyes wide. “Oh my God. Is that your husband?”
“Soon to be ex.”
“He doesn’t look like an ex. He looks like a man who’s about to propose. Or apologize. Or both.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. You should forgive him immediately.”
“You don’t know what he did.”
“I don’t care what he did. Look at those flowers. That’s at least three hundred roses, Freya. Maybe four hundred. Do you know how much four hundred roses cost?”
“He’s got money, Dana. Four hundred roses is pocket change.”
“Still romantic.”
I left her swooning and walked over to intercept Rex before he could make an even bigger scene.
The other parents were already whispering, phones coming out to snap pictures.
By tomorrow, someone would recognize him and this would probably be all over social media.
Billionaire Rancher Makes Romantic Gesture. I could already see the headlines.
“What are you doing?” I kept my voice low, hoping the smile plastered on my face looked more genuine than it felt. “This is my workplace. You can’t just show up with this.”
“I’m showing you I care.”
“By embarrassing me in front of my coworkers?”
“By demonstrating that I’m willing to make a fool of myself for you.” He lifted the flowers and held them to me. “These are for you.”
I didn’t take them. “Who ordered these, Rex?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Did you call the florist, or did Emilia?”
The pause told me everything. I watched him work it out, watched the exact moment he remembered his own words at the lake, and something behind his eyes went gray.
“Freya. I didn’t…”
“You told me you pay attention.” My voice cracked, and I hated it. “You knew why I can’t stand roses. Now you’re standing in my lobby holding hundreds of them.”
“I contacted a nearby florist. I forgot to tell them no roses. I had them delivered before I walked in. I’ll throw them out if you want.”
“That’s not the point even if you got the right flower.
” I grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the corner, away from the crowd.
The flowers bumped against my hip as he followed.
“You want to know what I want? I didn’t need flowers when your mother tried to pay me off.
What I needed was for you to say something, to stand up for me, to tell her she was out of line, to make it clear that I was your wife and you wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating me like I didn’t matter. ”
Rex’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t need flowers when you called me silly.
I needed you to listen, and to take my concerns seriously instead of dismissing them like I was a child having a tantrum.
” By now I was shaking, months of suppressed hurt finally finding an outlet.
“And I didn’t need flowers at your aunt’s dinner.
What I needed was for you to speak up when your family was humiliating me.
And I needed you to be on my team instead of sitting there staring at your plate. ”
“I know I failed you.”
“You did. And showing up here with expensive flowers doesn’t undo any of that. It just proves that you still don’t understand what I actually needed from you.”
He took every word without arguing. He didn’t defend himself, didn’t make excuses, didn’t tell me I was overreacting. He stood there and absorbed the impact of everything I was throwing at him.
It was disarming. I’d expected him to fight back, to explain, to rationalize. I’d prepared myself for a battle.
I hadn’t prepared for surrender.
“You’re right,” he said finally. “The flowers were stupid. I got it wrong.”
I stared at him, thrown off balance. “That’s it? You’re just going to agree with me?”
“You’re not wrong. I don’t know how to do this, Freya.
I don’t know how to fix what I broke. Maybe if I showed you I cared, I figured, if I proved I was willing to try, you’d give me another chance.
” He shook his head, looking almost vulnerable.
“But you’re telling me that’s not what you need, and I’m listening this time. I’m actually listening.”
My anger deflated slightly, which made me angry all over again. I didn’t want to soften toward him. I didn’t want to see him trying and feel my resolve weaken. And I needed to stay strong, to remember why I’d left, to protect myself from getting hurt all over again.
“I have to go,” I said. “I have a class starting in ten minutes.”
“I’ll leave.” He set the bouquet on the nearest chair, like he couldn’t decide whether taking it with him would be worse. “I’m sorry. About all of it.”
I turned and walked away before he could see my face.
Behind me, I heard the lobby doors open and close as Rex left.
Dana materialized at my side before I made it three steps, staring at the abandoned crystal vase. “Are you just going to leave those there?”
I looked back at the roses. Those flowers that had done nothing wrong except get chosen by the wrong person for the wrong reasons.
“No,” I sighed. “Put them in water. They didn’t do anything wrong.”
The lesson went fine. The kids were great. I focused on their form, their confidence, their growing love for the horses, and I managed to push Rex out of my mind for almost an entire hour.
Then I walked back into the lobby and saw the delivery truck through the window.
It was parked right outside the entrance, hazard lights flashing. Two men were unloading something from the back. Something big, something shiny, something with a giant red bow on the hood.
An SUV. Brand new, top of the line, gleaming silver in the afternoon sun.
“Oh my God.” Dana had appeared beside me again, her mouth hanging open. “Is that for you? Did he buy you a car?”
I was already pushing through the doors.
“Sign here, ma’am.” One of the delivery guys held out a clipboard. “Rex Waller paid for everything, including the insurance. It’s all yours.”
I stared at the SUV. At the red bow. At the key fob dangling from the man’s other hand.
Then I pulled out my phone and called Rex.
He answered on the first ring. “Did you get it?”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“I wanted you to have something safe to drive. That Honda has two or three hundred thousand miles on it, Freya. The airbags are probably shot.”
“I don’t want your car.”
“It’s not my car. It’s yours. The title is in your name.”
“I don’t care whose name is on the title.” I was aware of the delivery guys exchanging glances, of Dana watching from the lobby door, of everyone in the parking lot staring at the crazy woman yelling at her phone. “You can’t just buy me things and expect it to fix everything.”
“I’m not expecting it to fix anything. I just want you to be safe.”
“Then leave me alone. That would make me feel safe.”
I hung up before he could respond and handed the clipboard back to the delivery guy.
“Take it back,” I said.
“Ma’am, I can’t…”
“I don’t care. Return it. Donate it. Drive it into a lake. I don’t want it.”
I walked back inside without looking at the SUV again. Dana was staring at me like I’d lost my mind.
“You just turned down a hundred-thousand-dollar car.”
“I don’t want his money.”
“But it’s a really nice car.”
“I don’t care.” I pushed past her into the break room, where the roses sat in their crystal vase, mocking me. “He doesn’t get to buy his way out of this. He doesn’t get to throw money at me until I forgive him.”
Dana was quiet for a moment. “What would make you forgive him?”
I sank into one of the plastic chairs and put my head in my hands.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know.”