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“You don’t mean that. You told me you’d always love me.
Were you lying?”
“No, but…” Candy started to feel desperate and confused.
Also a familiar feeling. Now he was telling her what she meant. And accusing her. “Of course I wasn’t lying. Not at the time. But you said you’d always love me, too, and then one day you didn’t.”
“Honey, I explained that to you.” His voice gentled. She wanted to sock him through the phone. Justin never made her feel stupid. Only sexy and beautiful and smart.
“I’m sorry, Chuck. The answer is no.” She hung up the phone, picked up the piping bag and wiped up the spilled gel, which had left a red stain on her counter, a small misshapen heart.
She finished piping hearts onto the cupcakes, somehow getting them right, even with shaking hands. She went over to Mrs. Abernathy’s house and decorated, hearts and tinsel everywhere, red flowers, white lights, silver cupids. She smiled and chatted, mind barely clear enough to function, always churning in the background: Chuck, Justin, Chuck, Justin.
She’d done the right thing rejecting Chuck, hadn’t she?
The emotional fallout since she’d hung up on him had been considerable. First contact in a year with a man she didn’t think she’d ever get over until these powerful feelings had started for Justin. And yet Chuck also had powerful feelings for Kate, powerful enough to sacrifice Candy to them, and here he was again, realizing as she’d always been certain he would, that what Chuck and Candy had had together couldn’t be replaced.
Back home she fell into bed early, even knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, wishing Justin would call and hoping he wouldn’t. Too much confusion. Chuck, Justin, Valentine’s, Star Wars…
The doorbell rang. Justin. She leaped out of bed, then stood frozen for a second, trying to figure out what she’d say to him, how she’d react, whether she should tell him about Chuck.
Argh! She was too exhausted and confused to figure it out.
She’d make it up as she went along. Justin would probably help her.
Not bothering to put on a bathrobe, she prowled downstairs in her short cotton nighty, and peered through the peephole before she opened the door, just to be sure.
Not
Justin.
Chuck.
Justin carefully accepted the giant bouquet over the counter from the grinning florist. A dozen red roses, long-stemmed, thorns carefully trimmed, buds velvety soft and vivid against the greenery backdrop, white baby’s breath peeping delicately out of the bundle. Had he overdone it? He wasn’t sure.
He’d bought flowers for women before on Valentine’s Day, but had always avoided red roses, the floral symbol for passionate love. He’d felt passion before, he’d felt love, but nothing like this combination. His feelings for Angie paled in comparison—what he’d mistaken as depth of emotion had merely been jealousy and uncertainty, fear and lust, which produced enough adrenaline and longing to fool him.
What he felt for Candy had a solid foundation holding it steady. They shared personal stories easily, they had similar temperaments, humor and values. He loved her creative spirit, her enthusiasm for finding the fun in any activity. He loved her serious thoughtful side, and yes, no surprise, he loved that she gave him her body in a wild, uninhibited way that would keep him coming back for the rest of time.
But her heart—she was still guarding that. Not that he could blame her. He hadn’t been able to express the depth of his feelings either. It was too soon, they’d both been hurt too recently and had a bumpy start to their relationship. He’d let the roses speak for him and cross his fingers she’d welcome such a declaration. Admittedly, he was a little queasy still, even with all the plans in place. More than the flowers, he’d planned fancy chocolates and dinner out at one of Milwaukee’s finest, satisfying her Valentine’s Day fantasy.
The perfect evening? Or too much too soon? Would she melt in his arms or panic and bolt? Did she really prefer his red-herring plan of Star Wars and pizza?
An elderly man wearing a parka so huge it practically swallowed him came into the shop, eyed Justin’s roses and winked behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Ho-ho. There’s a lucky girl out there somewhere. Your wife?”
