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“Evan told me to find the most beautiful blonde woman in the lobby, so you have to be her.”
I take the flowers before I look at the woman next to me. She’s a blonde too, the same height as me with blue eyes and a cheerful grin. She’s dressed in a white wool coat, black pants and knee-high black boots.
“You’re her, right?” She skims her fingers over her chin. “He didn’t have a picture of you, but the description he gave me was spot-on.”
I look around, not exactly sure what I’m searching for. “Where’s Evan?”
“He’s at the …” she stops herself mid-sentence. “Evan was called into work. I’m Vanessa, a friend of his. He asked me to come by and give you these.”
My gaze drops to the flowers in my hand and a white envelope that is tucked into the top of the bouquet. I tug it out from between the fragrant blossoms.
There’s only one word written on it in blue ink.
“Jane.”
“I need to get back to work.” Vanessa slides on a pair of black leather gloves. “I’m glad I found you. Evan told me not to come back until the flowers and note were in your hands, so my work here is done.”
***
I read the note Evan wrote me for a third time.
His handwriting is messy and uneven. The ink trails from one word to another but I can make out the message just fine.
“Jane,”
If I were an accountant or a lawyer who takes a normal lunch break, my cock would be in heaven right now.
Inside of you – heaven – that’s how good it feels.
Look, my life is controlled by fate.
It calls. I run like the wind.
Fate called today.
I’m sorry that her timing is completely fucked up.
I’ll be back at the Roasting Point Café the first chance I get.
Don’t give up on me.
I like your beautiful face and the rest of you.
Evan (That is my real name, “Jane.”)
P.S. I’m going to fuck your real name out of you the next time we’re together.
“Chloe?” Rocco asks as he walks into my office. “Why is it that our father sees fit to send you flowers on a Thursday for no reason? Do you know how many flower arrangements the old man has sent me? Zero.”
I laugh as I tuck the note back into the envelope and shove it into the pocket of my black dress. “He signed you up for that craft beer of the month thing for Christmas. I didn’t get that. Do you hear me complaining?”
“Duly noted, counselor.” He settles into one of my office chairs. “Gabi said you were free so I came right in. You’re not busy, are you?”
I’m not. I stopped to pick up a turkey sandwich and a fruit salad on my way back to my office after I left the hotel. The flower bouquet I was carrying around the streets of Manhattan caught a few quizzical looks.
It’s cold enough outside that I know the flowers will wither and die within a day, but for now, they’re in a vase that Gabi found in her desk drawer. I put them on the windowsill next to my desk so they’ll fall into my vision line every time I look out at the view of the building next door.
I can’t afford an actual view, so I’ve grown accustomed to the red brick façade that greets me when I open the metal blinds each morning.
