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Instead, I drop the flower back onto the floor and strut to work. My new mantra on repeat as I walk.I do not need a man.
By the time I get into work, Ifeellike a new woman. My mind is clearer than it has been all week and I’m ready to get back to helping people again. As I round the corner to my office, I stop immediately as I open the door, when I see another bunch of white sweet peas resting on my desk.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
“Oh yeah, those were dropped off early this morning with strict instructions to leave them on your desk,” the receptionist says, filing her nails, not looking up at me.
I feel like if I cross this threshold into my office, I’ll be conceding something. One single flower I can handle. That goes in the bin. But a whole bunch? That’s a waste and I hate that. But I also want to stomp on them, the way he stomped all over my feelings.
“Can you please remove them from my desk and donate them to another desk in the office?” I ask the receptionist politely. Her head slowly rises to meet my eye, obviously confused as to why I don’t want this beautiful bunch of flowers, but I can’t sit at work and stare at them all day. He’s already in my head and my office was my sanctuary. And I will not be pushed out of my sanctuary by some flowers from a man.
Just as I step into my office, my client and first appointment of the day, Ella, rounds the corner. “Ooooh those are pretty,” she says, giving the offending posey the biggest heart eyes.
“You want them?” I say without really thinking. Ella’s nervous eyes flick between me and the flowers. “I’m not in the habit of giving out flowers, but I was going to donate those anyway.” I’m trying to act nonchalant as I stand by the side of my desk, which, of course smells like the most beautiful fresh flowers.
Ella walks over to the bunch and plucks one out and then plonks herself onto her usual comfy seat opposite my desk. “So… do you hate flowers or just the person who sent them?”
I follow her to the seating area, pick up my tablet and notepad, and settle in my chair. “I like flowers. Those are my favourite,” I say mindlessly.
“So, it’s the person who sent them.”
I silently huff. “Ella, we are not here to talk about me today. How was your weekend?”
She shifts, playing with the white flower head in her hand, assessing it like it’s a complete anomaly to her. “My weekend was good. Mum and I went to get ice cream. I saw friends. It was the best in a while. No arguing.”
“That’s good,” I smile, taking some notes. “Can you tell me how you felt after each day?”
She plucks a petal from the flower and squeezes it in her index finger and thumb, still not making eye contact with me. “Happy. Normal.”
“Good.”
“How was your weekend?” she asks.
I clear my throat. “My weekend was… good, thank you,” I lie. That’s when her eyes lift to mine.
“You’re lying.”
“Tell me what made you feel good, specifically this weekend.”
She pauses, her big, wide eyes staring at me before she squashes the entire flower head in her hand. I can’t help but smile a little because that was satisfying to watch. “Oh, he hurt you good if you’re smiling at me destroying your flowers.”
I lift my eyes to hers, which are laced with amusement. “Ella,” I sigh. “I’m sorry, but talking about me won’t be near as conducive to your treatment. Talking about you, however…”
Her eyes roll. “Yeah, yeah I get it. But just in case you think I’m a naïve kid, you know I’ve been through enough in my life for that not to be the case.” The crushed petals fall from her hand onto the floor. “And for the record, he’s an idiot if he hurt you.”
I smile because the shy girl I met months ago wouldn’t have dared be so open with me. But the blossoming young adult in front of me is growing in confidence and that’s something to smile about.
We talk for the entirety of her appointment, and she doesn’t revert to me again. When she leaves, she takes the flowers, offering them back to me once more just in case, but I want her to have them.
Around 2pm, my phone buzzes on my desk. I glance over, but it dims before I can catch the name. I’m too distracted by writing up client notes that I don’t check it for another hour.
Grayson:I hope your morning has been good x
It’s a text that he’s sent before and one that I didn’t think much about. But I can’t stop the silly flutters that are trying to take flight inside my chest. I need to talk to him, but I need to get through today at the very least. I turn it onto silent and place it inside my drawer for now.
Grayson
I’ve done a lot of thinking, and a lot of brooding over the last week. Most of it productive, too. It turns out when I’m trying to woo Nora—yes, I said it again. Liam can suck it—I’m the most productive person in all of London. I wake up and workout, then I head over to the florist, buy a few sweet peas and place them on her doorstep. I don’t know if she takes them inside or puts them in the bin, but either way, I’m not going to stop. I get to work on time, blitz all my paperwork and show up early, again, to appointments with clients. And today I’m heading to my first therapy appointment.
