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9
Juliet’s arrivalat my house that evening killed the strange feeling, but it returned full force Monday morning when I woke to see a missed called from a blocked number. There was no voicemail, so I decided not to think about it.
When I got to work, people were still whispering about why I let everyone leave early on Friday. I caught a lot of people giving me questioning stares, trying to figure out what was different.
My secretary seemed to figure it out right away. There was a knowing glint in her eye as she asked, “Have a nice weekend, Mr. Adams?”
It was odd to hear such a personal question coming from my notoriously professional secretary. Despite how many times I’d told her to call me by my first name, she never called me anything other than Mr. Adams.
“I did,” I said as I flicked through the stack of sticky notes she had for me. “How about yourself?”
“It was wonderful. Thank you for asking.”
I drummed my fingers on the notes as I started to walk away, but I spun around on my heel before I even made it five feet.
“Martha?”
“Yes, Mr. Adams?”
Her eyebrows were raised expectantly and if I wasn’t so damn certain that she had already figured it out, I probably would have backed away just to make sure the rumor mill didn’t catch wind of my new girlfriend.
Her lips pursed together as she stifled a laugh. I wondered how ridiculous my expression must have looked. I certainly felt like a deer caught in headlights.
With a sigh, I strolled forward and snatched a pen and a blank sticky note from her stack, jotting down the address before I lost my nerve.
“I need you to do something for me,” I said as I put her items back and handed her the note. “Every day this week, I want you to have flowers sent to this address. Charge it to my personal account.”
I started to turn when another thought entered my mind. I ignored her look of surprise and added, “Make it different flowers every day, okay? Start with something yellow—sunflowers, maybe?—and end with red roses on Friday. A shitload of red roses. You know what? Just, uh... just shop around and send me links to what you find so I can give final approval before you send them. That’d be great.”
Her jaw was practically hanging open when I hesitantly turned away, but I didn’t stop to hear her response or second-guess my decision to put it out there in the open. In fact, I caught myself with an almost constant smile throughout the remainder of the day.
The smile grew even larger late in the afternoon when Juliet called.
“Oh my goodness, you didn’t have to do this!” she cried out over the phone. “They’re so pretty.”
I had made sure of that. Martha sent me links to some beautiful arrangements early in the morning like I asked, but I had denied all of them. I marched down to her desk and explained that cost was not a concern and I while I liked everything she picked out, I wanted bigger.
Round two was perfection. Huge arrangements of peonies and roses and other flowers Martha raved about that I never even fucking heard of. It was perfect.
But still not enough. Which was why I didn’t go straight home after work.
“I’m glad you like them,” I said, casting a glance to the shopkeeper who raised an eyebrow. “Can I call you later? I’m in a meeting.”
“Oh! I’m sorry. Yeah, call me tonight. And thank you again.”
“Talk to you later, sweetheart.”
I ended the call and gave the woman an apologetic smile as I said, “Sorry about that.”
“It’s no trouble. I take it that was the woman you’re buying this for?”
“It was,” I confirmed as I inspected the necklace closely. “I think she’ll love it. I hope so, anyway.”
“I’m sure she will. And is that all you’re interested in purchasing today?” she questioned, her eyebrows raised high before her gaze flickered to the side.
I’d only come for a necklace, but when I followed her gaze and caught sight of the selection of engagement rings, I swallowed hard.
It was insane to even think about it, yet alone look at them. But even with the distance between myself and the glass case, a particular ring caught my eye and I couldn’t look away. That had to mean something. Didn’t it?
“Maybe I’ll browse a little more first. It wouldn’t hurt.”
The shopkeeper grinned like she damn well knew I wasn’t leaving that store without a ring.
When I got back in my car with not one but two boxes and my bank account nearly six-figures lighter, I begrudgingly admitted that she wasn’t wrong.
