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“What is it? What is it? What is it?”
I took a small sip of the drink. Fuck, it was exactly how I took it. “Coffee.”
“And?” She gestured to the bag.
I opened it and found two breakfast burrito from my favorite food truck. I pulled out the first, and my name was scrawled on it. I set that one down and looked at the other with a laugh.
“What?” she asked.
I passed it to her. “It has your name on it.”
She melted. “He sent me breakfast, too?”
“Appears so. Guess he didn’t want you to go hungry.”
“Can he be my boyfriend, too?” Jennifer asked with a laugh.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re silly. I’m going into the hospital. Enjoy the burrito.”
“Can’t wait to find out about tomorrow!”
A small smile graced my features. Despite myself, I couldn’t wait either.
Friday was my day off.
I was supposed to be studying for my boards. Not wondering if Jordan was going to send me another surprise. And if he was…what it could possibly be.
Cézanne sent me a text in the middle of the day.
Anything yet?
Nope.
It’ll be there.
Then, thirty minutes later, Sutton messaged.
Have you heard from Jordan?
I haven’t.
Gah, I can’t wait to see what he has planned.
Maybe nothing.
I don’t believe that.
I didn’t either. Not anymore.
An hour later, Jennifer was in my messages.
What romantic thing happened to you today?
Nothing. Just studying.
Tell me when it happens!
What if nothing happens?
But because everyone was messaging me, I couldn’t get anything done. Eventually, I gave up and took a shower. I’d just finished and was toweling off my hair when the doorbell rang.
“God,” I grumbled, throwing on sweats and a T-shirt as I rushed for the door. “I’m coming.”
I yanked the door open and came face-to-face with a flower delivery service from my favorite boutique, The Fig & Flower.
“Annie?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” I said, looking at the roses in her hand.
“I have quite a surprise for you.”
“You do?”
“I do,” she said with a big, genuine smile.
Then I saw that there were other people behind her. Three other people in flower-shop aprons, carrying their own bouquets of flowers.
“Can I come in?”
I blindly opened the door and watched them all parade into my house, putting flowers on seemingly every surface. A few dozen on the dining room table, a few in the kitchen, the coffee table, around the television, and the side table. The house was so consumed by flowers that it felt as if my house had been transformed into a flower shop. My mouth hung open at the sheer quantity of the display.
Then the helpers disappeared, and the woman stepped up to me. “One more thing, dear.” She handed me a single red rose and an envelope. “You must have someone in your life who loves you very much.”
I could barely speak around the knot in my throat. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Truly.”
She walked out, and I sank into a chair at the table. I dropped the rose and the note on the table and stared around the room in shock. I couldn’t even fathom how much this must have cost him. That he’d even thought to do it.
I should open the note. I wanted to. But my hands were shaking too hard.
Instead, I got my phone out and took a video of the room with all the flowers before zeroing in on the note. Then I sent the whole thing to a group chat with Cézanne, Jennifer, and Sutton.
The texts came in instantaneously.
Jennifer: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cézanne: Now that’s how it’s done! What’s in the card?
Sutton: OH. MY. GOD! He went all out. Look at all those flowers.
Jennifer: Note?
Sutton: Open it! Open it!
Cézanne: You’re KILLING us, Annie. Literally killing us.
Sutton: We’re dead.
Jennifer: DEAD!
I laughed at my friends and their enthusiasm. They were the best. And it gave me the courage to break the seal on the envelope with my name on it and pull out the letter.
* * *
Meet me at the barn tonight at 7 o’clock.
—J
* * *
I took a picture of the note and sent it to my friends.
Sutton: OMG! Are you going to go?
Cézanne: You have to go.
Jennifer: You absolutely do.
Sutton: Annie! What are you going to do?!?
I bit my lip. All week, he’d sent me things and not shown his face. He gave me the space I needed to deal with what had happened last weekend. And he’d done it with poise and so much romantic groveling. It’d be a lie to say he didn’t care. That he hadn’t been trying to prove he wanted to make up.
I was glad to have that week, that space. I’d anticipated the deliveries and thought about him all week. Last week had been a nightmare, a real colossal failure. But it didn’t change how I felt about Jordan. It didn’t change that I was still going to be in Lubbock this fall. And I didn’t forgive him just because he sent a few flowers or anything, but his reasoning, though misguided, had been in my best interest. He’d thought he was leaving me so that I didn’t have to choose. And he didn’t know that I’d already chosen.
