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She immediately gets to work untying the ribbon holding the stems of the roses together.
I stand near her, but not close enough to crowd her.
I suspect she knows what I want. Or maybe she was too drunk to recall her virgin confession. Either way, I need to test the waters.
“Lavender roses are my favorite,” she whispers before I can say a word about the night of the wedding and what she said to me.
“I know.”
She stops placing the roses in the vase to look up at me. “How?”
I stare into her eyes. “Abby was ordering flowers for your birthday, and I overheard her. She told the florist that lavender roses are your favorite.”
She blinks twice. “My birthday was months ago. It was before we met in her office.”
“Yes,” I admit. “Lavender roses are rare, so that stayed with me. I remembered it.”
Her gaze drops briefly before it’s back on my face. She takes her time studying the curve of my jaw and the shape of my nose before she locks eyes with me again. “They’re beautiful, Rook. Thank you. I know you brought them because you think having Posey here is disruptive, but it’s not.”
Posey didn’t factor into my decision to pick up those flowers for her. I brought them to put a smile on her face.
“Can I buy you a drink?” I smile. “Or a coffee?”
It’s not the ideal scenario to discuss what happened at the wedding, but that conversation is overdue.
“You want to buy me a drink or a coffee?” Her gaze leaves me again to fall back on the flowers.
Her hands follow. She starts dropping the flower stems into the vase.
“Yes.” I take a small step toward her so the distance between us is minute. “I want to talk about the wedding, Carrie.”
Her head snaps up. “What about it?”
I lean closer. I’m so close that I can almost taste her lips. “I haven’t forgotten what you said to me. I want to discuss that.”
A tiny exhale escapes her. “I thought you’d forget.”
I almost laugh because the notion that I could dismiss her confession from my memory or erase the image of how she looked that night is impossible. All of it claimed a permanent place inside of me.
I ache to reach up to tilt her chin up so I can kiss her, but I fight that temptation. We need to talk before I touch.
“Have a drink with me, Carrie,” I implore her. “Give me an hour of your time.”
“Now?”
“Now,” I repeat, but with all the pent-up longing I feel seeping into that one word.
She picks up the remaining roses to drop the stems into the vase at the same time. “I’ll arrange these later. Let’s go talk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Carrie
I’ve never been the type to hang out at a bar. When my friends in college were doing that, I was at home with my nose in a textbook, enriching my mind to solidify the future I envisioned for myself.
I wasn’t always that focused, but high school wasn’t kind to me. It fractured me in ways that I imagine it did to many young women. The splintered pieces inside me…my heart and my pride, are still fusing back together.
It’s been a slow journey, but I’m on the right path.
