CHAPTER 21
NOW
DAPHNE
I sit perched on one of the barstools at my kitchen island when the sound of the doorbell echoes into the apartment.
“Luc!” I call out as I continue to roughly sketch ideas for the remodel Shannon wants me to do in the bedrooms. “Door!”
“Can you get it, sweet cheeks?! I’ve got one more set left! Can’t break up my flow!”
Slamming my pencil down, I roll my eyes as I hop from the stool and pad across the room. I don’t know why he bothers to lift weights. The man hasn’t done an ounce of anything resembling manual labor a day in his life.
I reach the door just as the bell sounds out once more, followed by what sounds to be several kicks.
“I’m coming!” I grind out just as I tug at the handle.
The door swings inward, bringing me face to face with a billowy cushion of white. I blink several times, stepping back to take in the sight of the expansive fluff when I realize it’s actually a large arrangement of bright white dahlias.
A throat clears behind the large mass, bringing me out of my stupor and prompting me to step aside. “Sorry. Come in.”
“Thank you.” The arrangement shifts to the side, allowing an older gentleman’s face to peek through. “The vase and the water make it all just a bit heavy for these old arms.” He smiles.
“Looks like you’re managing just fine, sir.” I chuckle. “But yeah, those look heavy as hell. You can place it down right over here.” Gesturing toward the kitchen, I lead him to the island, where he places them carefully atop the marble. “Sorry you had to lug ‘em all the way up here.”
“Aw, that’s okay, ma’am.” He reaches into his back pocket, withdrawing something resembling a smartphone. After swiping at the screen several times, he holds it out for me to sign. “Somebody’s gotta bring flowers to all the pretty girls of Queen City.”
“Seems like you’re just the man for the job.” I smile brightly at him.
“That I am, ma’am.” Looking to the flowers, he reaches over and plucks the small white envelope from within the blooms, handing it over to me. “Someone’s clearly very smitten with you.”
Lifting the flap, I slide out the plain piece of pale cardstock to reveal two simple words followed by a single letter.
I overstepped.
-N
“I don’t know about all that,” I murmur as my fingers run atop the indents made by the pressure of his pen. Images of last weekend swirl in my mind, and even in the presence of my still-lingering shame, I tremble at the memory of his body pressed against my own.
What we did was wrong. My head knows that. I just wish my heart would catch up.
Glancing up, I find the delivery man eyeing me curiously. I school my features, allowing an easy smile to slip back into place.
“Darlin’,” he begins, shifting his hands to his pockets, “if there’s two things I’m an expert on, it’s flowers and being a man. I’m telling you. Whoever sent those has very strong romantic intentions toward you.”
“Using a flower that symbolizes a fresh start? I don’t know, sir. I’m thinking he more than likely is just trying to apologize for being an ass.”
“Perhaps.” He nods, looking to me thoughtfully. “Can I ask how long you’ve known the gentleman in question?”
That elicits a laugh from me for some reason. “Oh, God. Too freaking long. Um… let’s see, now. Seventeen years?”
“Hmmm.” A knowing smile overtakes his features. “You know, ma’am, in the Victorian era, dahlias had a different meaning. Back then, they were used as a sign of devotion or a way to signify an everlasting bond between two people.”
“While that’s very romantic, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence in this case.”
“Again… perhaps. However, my wife and I own the flower shop these came from. Took the order myself from the young man when he came in. And I just find it incredibly interesting that the specific number of flowers he requested correlates exactly to the number of years you’ve been in one another’s lives.”
“What?” My face falls, mouth slightly agape.
The man’s smile only grows wider. “You have a lovely day now, sweetheart.”
He lets himself out, the door snicking shut behind him while I stand stunned in the lingering silence.
No. It couldn’t be. Rushing to the bouquet, I quickly begin counting the oversized full blooms. “…14, 15, 16…17.”
I repeat the process two more times, but the number never changes.
Seventeen. There are seventeen dahlias scattered amongst the assortment of baby’s breath and leafy greens contained within the crystal vase.
I’m still trying to make sense of it all when the sound of another door closing echoes down the hall, and I turn to see Luc entering the living room.
“Hey, babe.”Using the towel slung over his shoulders, he wipes the sweat from his face. “Whatcha got there?”
“Uhh…” I stand at a loss for words, still struggling to catch my bearings.
Of course, Luc chooses today to suddenly become perceptive. Eyes narrowing, he stalks toward me, his gazes zeroing in on the small rectangle still in my grasp. Ripping the card from me, he quickly scans the message, and the way his jaw tightens tells me he has no misconceptions about who “N” is.
“You wanna explain this?” He holds up the note before enveloping it within his fist.
I blink at his choice of tone, breaking free of the momentary fog I’d previously succumb to. Oh, no he didn’t.
I gape at him in disbelief, wondering where the hell he found the audacity to come at me over a flower arrangement when he hasn’t so much as attempted to explain his little disappearing act last weekend.
When Luc got back from Long Island late that afternoon, for a brief moment I thought he was gonna address it. That maybe, for once, we’d have an honest conversation and be forced to confront everything that is so very broken with us. But when I never brought it up, his tension eased, and he seemed content letting sleeping dogs lie.
But now he wants to climb on his high horse and toss an accusatory tone at me?
I don’t think so, buddy. You want to sling shit over my indiscretions? That’s fine. But you crawl down into the fucking gutter beside me where you belong while you do it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I arch a brow. “Sure, Luc. I’ll explain this as soon as you admit what you were doing on Saturday when you were supposed to be registering for our wedding with me.”
“Oh, don’t give me this shit again, Daphne,” he bites out. “I told you I was working.”
“Fine.” I shrug. “Then that—” I gesture to the crumpled piece of cardstock in his hold. “—is nothing.”
I spin to take my leave, only to halt when his palm encircles my bicep.
“Why is Nick Conners sending you flowers, Daphne?” His grip on me tightens, the pressure causing me to wince in response.
“Ow, Luc!” I hiss. He glances down to his hold, allowing me to pull my arm free. “Jesus. I bumped into Nicky in the store when you didn’t show. He walked around with me for a little bit.” Not a total lie.
“You’re telling me Nicky was just strolling around a home goods store the same day we were scheduled to be registering for our wedding? That doesn’t seem the slightest bit odd to you?”
“Nicky’s actions don’t concern me, Lucian. I don’t give them enough thought to decipher their intent.”
“And why is he apologizing? How did he overstep?”
“When doesn’t he overstep?” I wave him off. “Seriously, he and I have been at each other’s throats for years. Just another round in our never-ending sparring match.”
“You’re a real piece of work.” He scoffs, dragging his hand through his jet-black hair.
“Excuse me?!” I rear back.
“You heard me. You think I don’t know there’s something between you two? You and your little bullshit banter?” He turns, leaning back against the counter while pointing to the offending flowers. “This stops now, Daphne. You understand me?”
“And am I to believe this means you will be ceasing any and all extracurricular activities as well?”
“Stop acting like you’re innocent in all this. You think I don’t know you were fucking him when we got together? I was willing to look the other way when we were just dating, but you wear my ring now, Daphne. And I will not have my wife carrying on like a goddamn whore! Especially not for some lowlife piece-of-shit criminal like Nicky C.”
Even in the presence of everything else he just said, it’s the last part that strikes a nerve. Unable to bite my tongue, I rush to his defense.
“That lowlife piece of shit has one of the most brilliant minds you’ll ever have the honor of being in the presence of, and a greater sense of loyalty than you could ever fathom.”
Lucian’s nostrils flare, his jaw clenching tight. The tension mounts between us, stifling the air around us, until he finally snaps. His hand shoots out to grip hold of the vase. With little regard for where I stand, he launches it past my head, where it hits the ground and shatters behind me.
“You want me to say it, Daph?!” he roars. “Yes, okay? Yes, I missed the appointment because I was with Lindsay! But can you blame me?! How the hell is a man supposed to feel like a king in his home when the woman who’s supposed to be building him up spends all her time bitching about all the things he does wrong? Maybe if you took a page out of one of these girls’ books and showed me a little respect every now and then, I wouldn’t feel the need to go stick my dick in something else!”
“And maybe if you were a real man, I wouldn’t have ridden Nicky’s leg in the corner of a department store ‘til I came all over his $2,000 bespoke suit pants.”
The slap comes so fast, I don’t even see it. One minute I’m upright, and the next I’m tumbling to the floor, narrowly missing the scattered shards of glass as I clutch my throbbing face. Pain radiates from my cheek, while the headache that instantly forms behind my eye screams in agony.
I lie against the cool dark tile of my kitchen floor, somewhat stunned by what just occurred. Did that motherfucker just hit me?
Luc paces back and forth, seemingly lost to his thoughts as he mutters frantically to himself. I push up to my knees, managing to right myself as I make my way back to my feet where his attention is suddenly drawn back to me. His eyes scan my face, his expression softening as he takes in the sight of the bruise which has undoubtedly begun form.
“Daphne, I—” he begins, only to be cut off when my foot connects with his balls. Luc drops, releasing a garbled cry as he collapses to the floor.
“YOU HIT ME?!” I scream down at him before driving my foot into his ribs. “What the fuck do you take me for, Luc?” I draw my leg back once more, only to be knocked off balance when Luc kicks my ankle out from under me.
I land hard, the impact sending a sharp stinging pain up my side. It momentarily stuns me, and before I’m able to scramble away, I’m pinned to the floor by the weight of Luc’s body.
Gripping hold of my chin, he forces me to look up at him. “I think you’re someone who needs to be taught a lesson.”
It’s the back of his hand that collides with my cheekbone this time, the force so powerful, a flash of white blanks out my field of vision. My body goes limp while I lay disoriented on the floor. I’m only vaguely aware when he climbs off me, the angry thudding of his footsteps carrying him down the hall.
Minutes seem like hours before the heavy-handed slam of our front door marks his exit, leaving me to ponder the choices in my life that led me to this point. I don’t rush to get up—partially because I know he won’t be back for a while, but also because I’m not really sure I even could if I tried.