“You know what this means, don’t you?”
He cocks a brow. “No…”
“You need to take Rosetta to the theatre too,” I point out. “I don’t want any special treatment.”
He bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe not the theatre, but perhaps a very expensive dinner. I’ll make sure she wears her new suit.”
I laugh. “It will be lovely for the both of you.”
He shakes his head, and then studies me for a long beat. A wicked grin traces his lips. “You sure try a man’s patience, Grasshopper,” he teases, “but you’re definitely worth it.”
I hop off his sofa, and bounce away. “I’d like to think so.”
* * *
Ethanand his grandmother are on the floor working on a giant puzzle in the living room when I get home. I sneak the four Chanel boxes into the bottom of the front hall closet, and throw a jacket over them. I don’t want Patricia to see them because there’s no way I’m confessing that my boss has just gifted me with ten grand of designer goodies.
“How did it go today?” I ask as I shed my blazer and purse.
“It was great,” Patricia tells me. “We had a great day, didn’t we, Ethan?”
I crouch down and kiss the top of Ethan’s head. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”
“Looks like you have yourself a new beau,” she teases. “Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone.”
My heart skips a beat. Does she know about Weston? How could she possibly know?
“I saw on the card,” she tells me. “Samuel, is it?”
What?!
“The flowers are on the kitchen table.”
I dash to the kitchen, eager to see.
The bouquet is quite beautiful; lavender roses, mixed with purple and green flowers in a glass vase. I reach for the card nestled in the arrangement, still wondering how it could possibly be.
To Gretchen,
Thank you for the wonderful evening. I hope we have many more.
Yours, Samuel.
How does he know where I live? Did he not listen when I told him I wasn’t ready?
“They’re gorgeous,” Patricia says. “How long have you being seeing him?”
“I’m not seeing him,” I tell her. “We’re just friends. I met him at the Grief Counseling Group, and we’ve been going for coffee. We went out for dinner once as friends, and I had dinner at his place last weekend. His daughter and Ethan were there. We’re just friends.”
“Well, you might want to tellhimthat.”
“I thought I’d been clear,” I go on. “I told him I wasn’t ready.”
She reaches for my hand. “It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to move on. It’s been almost three years.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to move on, and I certainly don’t want to do it with Samuel.”
“Not your type?”
