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“I’m so sorry, Flynn,” the vet murmured.
I slowly laid her head down onto the straw and sat back in the corner. My watery gaze panned up to the baby calf jumping around in the corner, and I heard one of my cows begin to moo up a storm in the barn.
“You got another momma in here producing milk?” he asked.
“They all do,” I breathed.
“Come here, little one,” the vet cooed. He led the stumbling calf out of the barn, and pretty soon the mooing cow stopped with her noises, and the suckling sounds of a hungry calf began to fill the barn.
“It’s a girl,” the vet came around the corner and smiled. But, all I could do was mindlessly pet the head of the dead cow lying beside me.
“I don’t know what your protocol is around here for your animals. You obviously loved her, and she obviously trusted you.”
“Yeah…” I trailed off.
I didn’t give a shit about the tears runnin’ down my face. I’d just taken Chelsea to the airport and left one of my beloved heifers to suffer in her labor, and now she was gone. I let go of one woman I loved only to come back and have another one leave me unwillingly.
“Flynn?” the vet called behind him.
“Yeah doc?” I called back.
“Quit mopin’ and go get her if ya love her so much.”
I sighed heavily while the doctor retreated from the barn, and I actually started turning the thought around in my head. I don’t know how long I sat there, debating on whether or not to actually do it.
I’d left my heifer behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and it ended up killing her. I’d sent Chelsea off and stayed behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and the idea of that having some sort of traumatic effect on her made my head spin.
So, I took out my phone and placed a phone call to Bradley.
Chapter 20: Chelsea
I sat on my couch in my Paris apartment and stared at a blank television screen. I’d ordered myself some food from up the road and was patiently waiting for it to arrive while procrastinating altering the styles in all the ways my boss wanted me to. I wanted to bring a little bit of country chic to the streets of Paris ever since I’d gone home, so I plotted some fantastic designs that I thought would be absolutely beautiful in the store and on the runway. He didn’t seem the least bit impressed, mumbling shit about where my other designs were, but when he got to take a look at a few of them, he ended up jotting down some notes. He told me to make some of these changes and change up the colors a bit, then come back and talk to him.
Then he told me that if I didn’t want to wear my own designs, to not create them. I told him I would wear all the shit I drew any day of the week, and I guess he sort of took that as a challenge. He told me to make the edits and come back in, and we would make a few of the outfits to put on me.
Great.
I stared at the television before taking in all the red ink on my paper, and I realized that by the time I made all these changes the entire purpose of the outfits would be gone. I sighed and leaned back into the couch. Why the fuck did I have to bring this shit back with me to Paris!? I should’ve just cut shit off with Flynn at the airport when he kissed me and fucking came back a rejuvenated and healed woman ready to get to work on my own fashion show.
Now, I looked like a bumbling idiot who’d lost the whole of her memory in a fucking horse accident.
The thunderous knock roared out into my apartment, and I thanked my stars that food was here. Food always helped me to become creative, and maybe eating from that wonderful place down the street would help to get my creative juices flowing.
After all, a little butter on a steaming hot croissant never hurt anyone anyway.
I threw the door open and started rummaging around in my pocket for the money for the delivery man, but when I looked up, I dropped all the mo
ney I had in my hand to the floor.
It wasn’t the fucking delivery man.
It was Flynn.
He was standing there with my food in his hand, and when he held up the bag, I slowly stepped off to the side. He walked into my apartment with a suitcase in one hand and my food in the other, but when I shut the door, I felt his hands on my hips. I whipped around and felt his lips crash onto mine, and the only thing I could do was run my fingers through his hair. Never in my life did I ever think Flynn would ever leave the state of Oklahoma, much less find himself in Paris, but the moment his lips descended onto mine I knew exactly why I’d kissed him in that airport and left with things in the air.
Because I loved him, and I wanted any part of him I could get.
“You are the only one for me, Chelsea,” he rumbled into my lips. I pulled back and set my feet back onto the ground, and when my eyes focused back onto his face, he continued.
