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You’re not a rose girl, are you? Call me (323) 302 9917 ~ G
Nope. Not even close.
* * *
Wednesday brought Tulips. I scoffed. Really?
The florist said white tulips symbolise forgiveness. Please forgive and call me. (323) 302 9917 ~ G
* * *
Thursday brought something quite unexpected. Hydrangeas. Dammit. They were my favourite and to make matters worse, it wasn’t just a bunch of flowers…it was a plant. My fingers trembled as I opened the adjoining card.
Embarrassed yet? Please call me (323) 302 9917 ~ G.
Unfortunately, he was right. I was embarrassed. Everyone in the office was talking about me—and not in a positive manner. After questioning Amy about why everyone was giving me the cold-shoulder, she admitted to overhearing whispers that I was flaunting a new relationship in Pete’s face. That not only had I broken his heart, I was trampling all over it. It had to stop.
* * *
On the last day of the week, I braced myself for another delivery and the office gossip that would follow. I wanted to set everyone straight, but I also couldn’t bring myself to explain why I was getting them, or who I was getting them from. It would only create more controversy and that was something I usually steered clear of.
In lieu of flowers, I received a mysterious package. Half expecting to find Gwyneth Paltrow’s severed head (yes, I watch too many movies), I reluctantly opened the box.
Curiously pulling back the tissue paper, I revealed what was inside and burst out laughing. The shoe I’d thrown at Grayson lay beneath and my cheeks instantly reddened. Not only had he kept it, he’d had it professionally repaired. I pulled out the small note underneath and chuckled.
Cinderella. Please call me (323) 302 9917 ~ G
I picked up my phone and leant back into the chair, swivelling around and around, trying to figure out what to do.
“I haven’t seen those dimples in a while,” Amy said, pausing in the doorway as she walked past my office.
My blush deepened. I didn’t even realise I was smiling.
She grinned and rested her shoulder on the doorframe. “So, are you going to call him?”
“Who?” I placed my cell back onto the desk and began aimlessly rustling around some papers to avoid her stare.
“You know who.”
I hadn’t even told Amy about Grayson, but I never really had to tell her anything. She just knew. Glancing at my cell, I chewed the side of my thumbnail.
“Well, just sex—I mean text him,” she blurted.
I glared at her.
Amy held her hands in the air. “Sorry! But your aura is as bright as your hair right now.”
I groaned as my eyes rolled. “Ames…”
“I just tell it like I see it.” She smirked and continued on to her office. “Text him!”
For the one millionth time that afternoon, I picked up my phone, typed a message, then deleted it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say, or if I wanted to say anything. I didn’t want anything to do with him…did I? But there was no harm in a simple thank you text…was there?
Me: Thanks for returning my shoe. J.
I barely blinked before the three little dots appeared, and my heart raced.
Grayson: I wanted to keep it. But it wasn’t my size.
