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I drop the note and rush to grab my phone.
Beckett.
With a huge smile on my face, I round my desk to pick up the office phone.
“Hey, Valerie,” I say.
“Hey, Arianne.”
“Can I call you back in ten minutes?”
“Did you get the breathtaking flowers?” she asks, ignoring my request.
Err… I hope she doesn’t ask too many questions.
“I did.”
“It took the delivery guy three trips to bring them all up.”
Wow.
“They’re from Blooming Thrill—the best flower shop in the city. Everything is super expensive there. No wonder. All the rich people, celebrities and socialites get their flowers from there.”
This is unbelievable.
“I see,” I say, doing my best to sound as detached as possible.
“I texted my husband to let him know some girls have all the luck… present company excluded,” she says.
I don’t know how much she knows, so I tread carefully. “It’s just a small thank you.”
“I’ll play along, but just so you know, those photos on the internet tell a different story. That said, I don’t get paid to pry.”
“Let me call you back.”
“Sure thing,” she says.
I put an end to the conversation before it gets out of hand.
Giddy, I turn my focus to my phone.
Beckett: Hey, Holy Chic!
I laugh.
Arianne: Hey, you!
Beckett: Did you get the flowers?
Arianne: I did. You’re insane.
Beckett: You don’t like them?
Arianne: I love them! Thank you!
Beckett: I was told yellow roses mean friendship.
Arianne: That’s so sweet.
