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Meetings all over. Everything went great. It’s not official yet, but I think Brian and I nailed this account.
That’s great!I type back.
Sorry again I had to ditch out this week. Everything ready for the big show tomorrow?
My fingers hesitate over the screen. I’m so close to calling everything off. Of course, right after I got everything into place. I finally found a dress off the rack—with Hayden’s help. He’s been weirdly supportive the last couple of days. And as if he realized the error of opening his mouth, he’s been absolutely silent about marrying me after his impulsive proposal.
I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. I’ll press on and pray for the best, but I’m well beyond second thoughts. I’m on the billionth now.
Yes. Are you still okay with this wedding thing?
Of course! Don’t give up on me. I’ll be back. We got this.
Thanks.
Anything for you, darling.He sends a wink emoji with it.
With a faint smile, I darken my phone. Derek won’t let me down. He never has. I wish I could have fallen in love with him, at least a little.
Adding that to my pile of regrets, I pad barefooted to the liquor cabinet and pop open a bottle of red. The sound of vino sloshing into my empty glass is a sad one, but I drown it out by tossing back half the wine, then heading to the kitchen to find my last supper. After tomorrow, I’ll either be happy…or totally brokenhearted.
While I choke down some leftovers from last night’s roast chicken before I lose enthusiasm for food, I reach for my phone. It’s stupid and impulsive and likely to end in misery, but I tap out a message to Hayden.
What’s up?
No answer. When I mentioned something yesterday about maybe having a gathering tonight, he was oddly vague about his plans and changed the subject. Does he have a hot date? A hookup with a fuck buddy? Or is he just over me?
It’s a depressing thought.
With a sigh, I clean up my solitary dinner, plop onto the sofa, and stare into my nearly empty glass. While I contemplate pouring another, the doorbell rings. By the time I peer out the peephole, I see a driver climbing back in his van and driving away.
I open the door and find a bouquet of flowers on the porch, a colorful profusion of gardenias, pink lilies, cabbage roses, and orchids. It’s huge and breathtaking.
Who sent this?
I don’t know but I find myself smiling as I carry the flowers into the living room and root around for the card. I pull it free from its envelope and find three simple words.
Smell me now
Automatically, I comply. The beautifully dizzying scents swirl in my head and make me desperate to know who had them delivered to me. The card isn’t signed. Derek wouldn’t send me flowers; I know that. In fact, I can only think of one person who might have.
Hayden.
That possibility ricochets through my head as the doorbell rings again. I reach the peephole in time to see a local courier drop off a bag from a liquor store. When I retrieve it and peek inside, I spy a bottle of very swanky champagne. There’s an attached card with another three-word instruction.
Chill me now
Beside that, I find a plain white oblong box with another unsigned note.
Don’t open me yet
Did Hayden send these mysterious gifts? Since I can’t be sure, can he actually get mad if curiosity gets the best of me? As my brain twists the question around like a pretzel, I dutifully slide the bottle of bubbly into the fridge and set the box, wrapped with a silken red bow, on the kitchen counter.
I’ve barely finished before the doorbell rings yet again. What the hell is going on? Are all these gifts Hayden’s way of letting me down easy?
If so, I admit it; I’ll be crushed.
When I pull open the door again, the courier is standing there once more. He’s a teenage kid with an acne problem and bulging eyes. When he spies me in shorts and a tank top, he can’t seem to operate his tongue. Poor guy. I remember that awkward age…
