Madison mouths,I’ll get it,and then goes to the door.
“Tommy. What’s at the door right now?”
“You’ll see. Tell me how she likes them later!” And then my asshat brother hangs up.
I hear the door open and Madison’s gasp. When I turn the corner, I see why. There’s a delivery guy at the door holding a bouquet so large you can barely see him behind it. It’s a rainbow, bursting with every color of rose under the sun.
She squeals and then looks over her shoulder at me, eyes bright and sparkling. “Are these for you, James?”
I grunt a laugh. “Doubt it.”
The delivery guy speaks, voice muffled from behind the arrangement. “Is Madison Walker here?”
“Me! I’m her!”
“Oh, great.” He shifts the bouquet so he can peek around it. He looks fatigued. “These are for you.”
“Who are they from?”
“I’ve got a good guess,” I say dryly.
She goes up on her tiptoes to pluck the little card from the top of the blooms and then reads it out loud. “The roses are rainbow, your nails are too. This bouquet is to prove, I’m still thinking of you. From Tommy.” She gives a pouty lip and presses the card to her chest. “Oh my gosh, Tommy used ChatGPT just for me!”
I roll my eyes, wondering if he sent these flowers before or after his date last night. The guy is a prick and doesn’t deserve the beaming smile on Madison’s face. Especially after voting against her working for us—repeatedly.
“Do you mind bringing them inside for me?” Madison asks the delivery guy.
“Su—”
I hold up a hand, staying him. “You’re not actually going to accept these, are you?”
She shoves my hand down. “Why the hell wouldn’t I?”
“Sorry, but . . .” The delivery guy hikes the flowers up higher in his arms. “These are heavy.”
“Shit. Yeah, you can put them on the kitchen table,” she says, disregarding my glare.
He plows his way through the entry and into the kitchen, Madison on his heels and me on hers. “Are you actually entertaining the idea of dating him?”
She laughs. “No.”
“Then why are you keeping these?”
“Because they’re flowers. And I love attention. What’s the problem?” Her hands go to her hips.
The delivery guy points toward the way he came. “Okay, I’m just going to . . .”
“Sit down.” I tell him and then look at Madison. “You should send those flowers back. Reject them so Tommy will get the message.”
Madison folds her arms. “What if I don’t want to send him a message? What if I want him to keep sending me flowers?”
“He was on a date with someone else last night, Madison.”
She stares at me. “So?”
“So you’re a game to him. Don’t you see that?”
She smirks. “I thought you said you were going to stay out of it. That it’s my choice if I want to date Tommy.”
