Chapter Nineteen
“What did you do with all the flowers? Don’t tell me they’re in your apartment,” Haley says.
“Gosh, no.” I laugh before sipping my latte. “No, I packed them up in boxes and ordered up a big car and took them to the hospital.”
“You didn’t.” Hayley’s mouth hangs open.
“Why not? I figured people there would get a little happiness. What? Was I supposed to leave them to rot in my place?”
“No. I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” she admits with a warm smile. “That’s exactly the sort of thing you would think to do.”
I don’t think it’s that big a deal, honestly, but she seems to.
I shrug it off. “Anyway, I kept a few bouquets for me. One in the living room, one in the bedroom, one on the counter in the bathroom. They’re so pretty, and the whole apartment smells like them now.
” Better than smelling like reheated curry or whatever I most recently ordered to eat.
“He obviously regrets what happened,” Hayley muses, watching me like a hawk.
I can feel her eyes boring holes into me, even when I’m not looking. That’s what years of super-close friendship does. A girl develops a sixth sense.
“Do I have something hanging out of my nose?” I finally have to ask. “Because you’re staring at me.”
“Oh, am I?” she asks with a smirk.
“You are, and you know you are.”
“I only want to see how you feel about what’s happening.” She shrugs, flipping her impossibly silky hair over one shoulder. I swear, the girl looks like she stepped out of a shampoo ad. Or maybe an ad for a spa or salon. “You’ve been more tight-lipped than usual about him.”
“There’s not much to say. I told you what happened.” Even the part in the car, which makes me blush, just thinking about it. “I mean, it’s not even Sunday afternoon yet. Give me a chance to get everything straight in my head.”
“You’re being evasive.”
“You’re being impossible.”
“Point taken, but you’re still being evasive. Listen,” she insists when I roll my eyes skyward, “I know you’re developing feelings for him, but I could tell from the tone of your voice that it hurt you. He hurt you.”
“We had an argument. He was a jerk about it. So was I though. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, you had every right to.” She sits back, arms folded, her jaw tightening the way mine does when I’m good and ticked off.
“Just because he’s richer than God doesn’t mean his life is automatically more important than yours or anybody else’s.
And if he can’t draw a line between work and his private life, that’s his problem.
It shouldn’t have to be yours. You don’t have to accept whatever little crumbs he throws your way just because he’s an epic catch. ”
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m pissed on your behalf. I can’t help it.”
“I love you for it. But aren’t you the one who told me just, what was it, a week ago, that this is the sort of thing to expect from somebody in his position?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not always right. You should know that by now.”
“I have to remember we’re not actually dating.” I look down at my plate, the half-eaten eggs Benedict staring back at me. Even after a morning spent delivering flowers, I don’t have much of an appetite. I’m too conflicted.
“But you are. Even though the two of you walked into this with an understanding of why you’d wanted to approach him in the first place, you’re dating. You’ve gone out, what, three times? And spent the night in once?”
“So what?”
“And there are feelings involved. Don’t pretend there aren’t,” she murmurs, and I hate how sympathetic she sounds. “You like him. A lot. And it sounds like he likes you a lot too. It would be one thing if this was just for fun.”
“Like Matt and his screaming banshees.” I snicker.
“Exactly. But it’s not. He’s very sweet to you and tender and all that good stuff neither of us has had in our lives for way too long. I mean, you were bound to fall for him. I’d have been worried about you if you hadn’t, quite frankly. I’d have had to check your pulse.”
That gets a giggle from me anyway. “I don’t have an excuse. I knew walking into this who I was dealing with. The sort of man he is, I mean. How busy and important he is. I can’t complain now.”
“You weren’t complaining last night—unless there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“I told you practically the whole conversation, word for word.”
“You were pointing out how wrong he was, and you had every right to,” she decides with a firm nod.
“And you’re absolutely right. Having a strong work ethic is one thing, but he lets work consume him.
No wonder he has such a hard time with relationships.
I mean, I can’t imagine I’d be much better if I were in his shoes—though I’d like to try.
” She grins, eyebrows wiggling up and down.
I raise my latte in her direction. “Amen to that. Though I don’t know if I’d want to live his life.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “I mean, okay, I’m what you’d call a successful author.”
“Putting it mildly.”
“I don’t feel comfortable calling myself a current success.
Anyway, I still get to be anonymous—mostly.
I don’t have to worry about going out in public and being recognized.
Meanwhile, Blake goes to a restaurant or a show, and he’s got to deal with people looking at him.
He has to wonder if anybody’s going to approach him or bother him or take pictures.
He doesn’t say it out loud, but I can tell how guarded he feels.
Tense, eyes always sweeping the room. He wants to pretend to be normal when he’s anything but. I wouldn’t want that.”
“Understood.”
“And for somebody whose fabulous, healthy lifestyle is held up as some great example, he doesn’t take a lot of time to enjoy himself. I know he’s into sports, but I’ve never heard him talk about doing any of those things. He’s always traveling for work. That’s it.”
“This could be a particularly busy time for him. You never know.”
“You’re right. Still, I wouldn’t want that sort of fortune if I couldn’t enjoy it. What’s the point?”
“I’m with you on that,” she agrees. “So, I guess you won’t be including this in your new book. This icky conflict stuff.”
“Au contraire. This is gold. This can be what threatens to keep my characters apart. It’s practically writing itself.”
“At least something good can come out of it, I guess.” She sounds depressed though, which I hate.
“Perk up! This is one book of many. One potential boyfriend of many too.” Yes, I’m very positive about this. Entirely in control. I have the whole thing in hand.
So what if I have a sick feeling in my heart? Flowers or no flowers, I don’t feel good about what happened last night, and I’m disappointed in myself for wanting more from Blake than he’s ready or able to give. I’m not supposed to be catching feelings, as Hayley put it.
“You’re trying to smile, but it looks more like a grimace,” she sighs. “Maybe you’re not cut out to be the casual-dating type of girl. Maybe it was irresponsible of me to talk you into this.”
“Or … maybe Blake’s somebody I really want to be with, and I wish things would work out,” I sigh, swirling what’s left of my latte in its cup. “It’s bad luck that I found somebody I really, really like on the first try.”
“Maybe you’ll go out with a creep next time,” Hayley suggests.
“The amount of hope in your voice is frightening. Just thought I’d let you know.”