Shock. I am in shock.
There is only one person that could have sent me these flowers, and only one person that Iwantto have sent me these flowers. I stare at them for several long minutes admiring the bright, cheerful colors before realizing that there is a littlewhite envelope tucked into the bouquet. I lift the card with trembling fingers and slide out the note.
Life is the beauty, Lainey. Even the things that might not last forever, they are still worth taking the time to enjoy them. A dessert, a sunset, and definitely flowers.
We are going to take the time. We are going to find your favorite.
-R
PS: These are ranunculus.
They symbolize charm and attractiveness.
I read his words over and over, and I let tears fall. Nobody has ever done something like this for me. Not only the flowers, but the words that went along with them. Remington had shaken me to my very core. I assumed that after texting with me, after hearing more depressing honesty from me, that he would be sprinting in the other direction ... not going to the local florist, picking out flowers, and hand writing me a note. This handsome, strong, alpha, heroic firefighter has a caring, sweet side and I wonder if he does this for everyone.
My stomach drops at the thought. He offered to take my journal only because he was being nice, he even admitted it. I’m positive that this is just part of it. It has to be. We were texting and I shocked him with my truth. He felt sorry for me. He mighttrulybe a nice guy, so he went out of his way to do this, tomake me feel better.
The ever present, mean, unworthy voice hisses in my head that this is all that it is.
He doesn’t have feelings for me, he doesn’t like me-like me. I am just the basket case, weird, pyro girl that he feels sorry for. That man, the sexy hero with the deep voice, caring soul, and matching eyes doesn’t want a mess like me.
A different kind of tear slides down my cheek as I pull out my phone.
6
Remington
After reading those texts from Lainey I knew that a simple reply back was not going to be enough. I wanted to show her that she is worthy of more, and I want to be the man that gives it to her.
I can’t stop thinking about her stunning, stormy blue eyes and the way they welled with tears the night of her little fire. I can also imagine them filling back up texting me about flowers, something that should, in most instances, make you fucking happy. I am determined to give that woman some sunshine and happiness in as many forms as possible. Starting with figuring out her favorite flower. I have a sinking feeling that she has been let down by a lot of men in her life—beginning with her dad, and most recently with Brett. Who knows what she has experienced in any of her other relationships?
Just the thought of her with any other man makes my blood heat in an insane, caveman, possessive manner. Lainey is not mine. She isn’t even my friend, technically. We have known each other for a matter of days, but it feels like I was meant to know her, like I explained to my extremely noseysister. Shit, Sutton will not let me off the hook. The way that she lit up when I was at her store, and then when I told her why? It makes me happy I came to her to pick out the journal for Lainey.
I love my sister, but I don’t open up to her about my personal life that often, especially after my one and only long-term girlfriend, Cora Tyler, completely fucked me up. What made it worse was that she was one of Sutton’s best friends. I know that my sister carries guilt that is not her own burden to hold when it comes to the cataclysmic failure that was mine and Cora’s relationship. Sutton had dreams of Cora being her sister one day and all the family things that go along with it. I thought I wanted that too, until Cora showed me who she really was. After that, my desire for love, marriage, and family never went away, but I never trusted anyone with that part of myself ever again.
The scary thing about Lainey is I don’t even know much about her, but she has cracked open that hope chest I had locked up tight. It was firmly placed in the back of my mind, a shitty attic space that collects dust, forgotten dreams, and ghosts. I saw something in her that mirrors my own desires, and I want to shine the light into all my dark and forgotten spaces in the hopes that maybe she will let me in, help her get rid of some of her own shadows and whatever haunts her pretty eyes.
But I guess shehaslet me in ... I go to grab her journal.A whole year of her. Things that she was drawn to and loved so much that she needed to write them down so that she could remember them forever. I can’t believe she was planning to torch the whole thing because of that dick. I mean, I get it, I wouldn’t want anything from Cora sitting around on a shelf seeping toxicity into a cherished tradition. I am happy I can help Lainey with this, save what was written inside, and get ridof the evidence that fuckface, Brett, ever had anything to do with her favorite thing.
I hadn’t looked at her writing yet, wanting to give myself time for more than a quick passing glance at it. As I walk through my living room I wonder what Lainey would think of my house—shit. I really am down bad like Sutton teased me. But I can’t help not picturing Lainey curled up on the worn leather couch with me, writing in a new journal. Or watching me cook her dinner. Does she like to cook? I know one thing for sure, I want to make her French toast in my kitchen and bring her breakfast in bed after a long night of staying up way too late, memorizing every inch of her perfect body. I am sure her brown hair is as soft as it looks and is the perfect length for me to wrap my fist around. I let out a groan as my cock twitches behind my zipper at the idea of my dream girl in my bed all night. Before I can get too lost in my thoughts, I sit down and flip open the first page of her journal.
Happy birthday to me ... I was really looking forward to going to pick out my new journal this afternoon, but then Brett surprised me with—this, um, special one. So, I am going to make the most of it and use it. It seemed to be what he was expecting me to use it for, so it made him grin at me when I told him I would.
Next year I can pick something else, go crazy in my own way. Maybe even something with some actual cute animals or something different on it?
“Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” —Alexander Pope
Shit, Lainey couldn’t even allow her full feeling of frustration and displeasure to be put down in the journal. She was still trying to people please even on paper. That was really sad and obviously so conditioned she couldn’t see any other way. There was a mix of the kindness, her pure heart, and of what she felt was expected of her ... but there was also the flicker of defiance with the quote. A little pushback. It was not positive or happy, but it was there.
My phone dings signaling a new text. I grab it expecting it to be Eli with plans to hit up the gym, but the name I see makes me grin.
Lainey: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful, and that was very kind of you.
Image: Lainey wearing a soft, almost sad, smile and holding the bouquet of flowers.
Jesus, she takes my breath away. Examining the photo on my phone, I wonder why she looks kind of sad. I thought she would be happier. I hope that I didn’t already mess this up, push too much, freak her out ...
Remington: You’re very welcome. They are the second most beautiful thing in that picture.
