Instead, he looked up from his laptop, green eyes crinkling with warmth, and said, "Ah, my favorite person. What have you brought me? Love letters? Declarations of undying devotion?"
"More documents to sign."
"Close enough." He took the folder, his fingers brushing mine. "You know, I was thinking about you this morning."
"You really shouldn’t have been."
"Oh, but I was. I was thinking about how efficient you are. How organized. How you always know exactly what I need before I need it." He leaned back in his chair, looking up at me with those ridiculous green eyes. "It's like you can read my mind. Very attractive quality in a fake girlfriend."
"I'm not your fake girlfriend anymore."
"Hmm." He tapped his pen against his lips. "We'll see about that."
I turned and stormed out of his office before I said something I'd regret.
The morning dragged on. I threw myself into work, trying to focus on spreadsheets and schedules and anything that wasn't Xavier Dubois and his inexplicable good mood. He was the one who'd messed up. He was the one who should be groveling. Why was he acting like he had some secret he couldn't wait to share?
At noon, my phone buzzed.
Xavier:
Meet me in the small conference room on 25. The one that's always empty.
I stared at the message. Every instinct screamed at me to ignore it. To stay at my desk and eat my sad lunch and pretend he didn't exist.
But curiosity won.
I took the elevator down two floors and made my way to the conference room he'd mentioned. It was tucked away at the end of a hallway, rarely used, the kind of room that existed for overflow meetings that never happened.
The door was closed. I pushed it open, stepped inside, and stopped.
Xavier stood in the center of the room. Behind him, arranged on the conference table, were three massive bouquets of flowers. Roses, lilies, peonies—an explosion of color and fragrance that must have cost a small fortune.
"Kim." He spread his arms wide. "I know I messed up. I know I broke my promise. I know I put Zoe in a position I swore I wouldn't put her in, and I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry." He gestured at the flowers. "This is me, apologizing. Begging, really. Please forgive me. Please be my fake girlfriend again. I promise I'll do better. I'll be more careful. I'll?—"
"What the hell is happening right now?"
He faltered. "I'm... apologizing?"
"With flowers."
"Yes?" He looked at the bouquets, then back at me. "Women like flowers. It's a thing. I read about it."
I stared at the flowers. What the hell was I supposed to do with them? Eat them? I lived in a tiny apartment. I didn't have vases. I didn't have space for one bouquet, let alone three. They were beautiful, sure, but they'd wilt within a week. Die. Get thrown in the trash.
Now, if it were a bouquet of carrots, I'd be excited. Or a bouquet of paid electric bills. Even better, a bouquet of a year's worth of groceries, then maybe I’d forgive him on the spot.
But this was Xavier's language. Grand gestures. Expensive displays. The kind of romantic apology that worked in movies and meant nothing in real life.
He was watching me expectantly, waiting for a response. Waiting for me to swoon, probably. To tell him how amazing he was, how touched I was, how of course I forgave him.
"Kim?" He shifted his weight. "This is the part where you tell me how amazing I am and accept my apology."
I looked at him. Really looked. He was so hopeful. So completely out of his depth. He genuinely thought this would work because this was all he knew. Money and flowers and charm.
He was trying. In completely the wrong way, but he was trying.
And maybe that was more than anyone had ever done.
