His steps get heavier as we make our way up to my apartment. His knuckles are white against the railing as he pulls himself up slowly, one step at a time.
“Do you have any paper? And envelopes?” he asks, as we walk back in.
I dig around in several drawers before coming up with a lined pad, and some small envelopes. “Here.”
“Thank you.” He grabs my hand as I pass them to him on the couch, pressing his lips to my palm. “Go on to bed. Get some sleep.”
“What about you?” I grab the blanket from the back of the couch, drawing it around his shoulders. “You need to rest.”
Ben half-smiles up at me. “Plenty of time for that.”
I linger in the middle of the room, my fingers twisting together. “You’ll call if you need me, right?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I’ll call you.”
17
Ben
“Tell me what this one means.”
I walk backwards, pointing to the bucket of pretty white flowers.
Today is a good day.
Today is a normal day. A day where I can walk with my girlfriend through the market, and the only thing on my mind is making her smile.
Because she’s stopped smiling.
And it’s killing me.
Emmy frowns as she leans in. “You’re adorable.”
I flutter my eyelashes at her exaggeratedly. “Why, thank you. I agree. And the flower?”
She snorts, the corner of her lip lifting slightly. “No, you dope. White camellias. They mean… adoration. Respect. But without the romance.”
“Oh.” I drop the flower back into the bucket. “That won’t work, then. What about red roses?”
Emmy nods, her fingers stroking over one of the petals. “True love. Passion. Desire.”
I yank several out of the bucket, and she side-eyes me. “What are you doing?”
I shake my head. “What else?”
Her head tilts to the side. “Tulips. For a love that is… perfect. Unconditional.”
I swallow down the thickening in my throat, plucking a few and adding them to the growing pile in my arms. “What about strength?”
Emmy hums, wandering away from me. I lose her for a moment before I catch up, trying to hide my heavy breathing. “The lotus. Strength in adversity.”
Silently, I pick a few out. “Happiness?"
Emmy points at a selection of bright, colorful daisies. “Gerbera daisies would work. Each color has its own meaning, but overall… happiness.”
She narrows her eyes at me when I scoop out nearly the whole lot. Innocently, I whistle as I move over to the watching stallholder. “Could you wrap these into a bouquet?”
Emmy’s cheeks flush as I present the bouquet to her with a bow. “If you were flowers, baby, you’d only be the good ones.”
