Why hadn’t I thought of that? It had been a little over a month since Stetson strolled right out of my apartment door, and I’d been racking my brain for weeks on when or if he was even coming back, and it hadn’t even occurred to me to just pick up the phone and ask.
Me:
That’s not a bad idea.
Maggie:
I know. That’s why I’m here. Let me know how it goes. Love you.
Me:
Love you.
Moriah was the only other one in the office, so I felt safe to make the phone call at my desk. I pushed his name in my contacts without giving my brain a chance to change its mind and let the first ring echo through the phone.
Each ring that went by with no answer left me both relieved and anxious.
“Had I known flowers would’ve warranted a phone call, I would’ve sent new ones every day.” Stetson’s voice barreled through the phone, even lower than it sounded in person.
“Huh?” I questioned.
“Shit. What time is it? I assumed you were calling because of the flowers.”
Just as he finished, the chime on the door brought my attention away from my computer screen. A tiny man with a very large bouquet stepped inside.
“I’m lookin’ for a Scarlett Carson,” the man said.
My cheeks mimicked the color of the red and orange flowers that made up the bouquet in his arms.
“Uh, I’m right here,” I said, raising my hand in the air like the teacher had just asked me a question.
Still holding the phone to my ear, I grabbed the bouquet from him and placed them on my desk. “Thank you.”
“Of course, and Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replied.
Valentine’s Day? The words put me in a chokehold, quietly trying to find my next breath.
“You there?” Stetson’s voice was filled with the faintest hint of urgency.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sorry,” I said, scouring my brain for what to say next. “I was just trying to get this big-ass vase situated. Someone just had the most ridiculous bouquet of flowers delivered to me.” I smirked, the expression lending itself to the tone of my voice.
“Ridiculous in a good way, like maybe you would forgive the person who sent them for disappearing for a month, or ridiculous in a bad way, like you never want to see that person again?” he questioned.
I couldn’t tell if he was stressed about his decision to send me flowers or if he’d picked up on my giddiness. Regardless, I was thankful for the phone acting as a shield while a smile bloomed across my face.
“Depends on when said person is going to decide to show back up. You see, I’ve got an article I’m supposed to be writing, and it’s proving difficult to write anything when I haven’t spent any time with the subject,” I said.
“I know. I’m sorry. I had no intention of staying in Nashville this long, but…” His thought process halted and a deep breath muffled into the phone. “There were just some things I had to make sure were buttoned up before I left again. I’m really sorry I just left like that on Christmas Eve. I’d only planned on being in Nashville for the holidays. And I should’ve reached out, so I’m sorry about that too. Things have been crazy busy, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I wanted to get some shit figured out so I had an answer on when I was coming back before calling.” His words were coming faster than normal. “Not to mention, every time I thought about calling you, what I wanted to say definitely didn’t fall under the professional category.”
There were very few things I wouldn’t have done to know those thoughts, and I could’ve let my brain wander for days, but I needed to respond.
“It’s all right. Really. I just need an update on when you’re planning on being back here. Donna has sort of been on my ass about the piece and I haven’t known what to tell her,” I lied, but I really wanted a straightforward answer. Something concrete. “I didn’t want to be annoying and bug you and, honestly, I thought you might not come back at all.”
“You still think I’m as shitty as everyone says, don’t you?” he asked, but quickly continued before I could answer. “I would never just not come back, especially without letting you know. Next time you want to know something, just ask.” The tone of his voice seemed to be almost laced with disappointment.
“When are you coming back?” I swallowed the lump in my throat.
His low chuckle vibrated the phone against my ear, forcing a shiver into my shoulders. “I’ll be back at the end of the week. Meet me at the recording studio on Friday?” he asked.
