It was my little place,my own,and I loved it.
I rolled to a stop under the carport, an addition I’d added after I purchased my new BMW SUV. New house, new car, and the best part was that I’d saved up enough to put half down on both before signing on the dotted line.
Things were going well.
At least that’s what I’d thought.
I cut the engine and blew out a breath as I peeled each finger off the steering wheel. After grabbing my purse and briefcase from the passenger seat, I got out of the car—and stopped cold.
I stared at it for a moment, the vibrant colors of purple against the dark wood of my front door, the deep green leaves.
An exotic orchid in full bloom.
The craziest thing was that my first thought went to Phoenix. I quickly laughed that thought away, though, becauseMr. Steeledidn’t seem the apologizing type, especially to a woman. He also didn’t seem the type to sendflowers for any occasion… unless they were Venus flytraps, of course.
No, I knew who they were from. They were a dramatic reminder of a decision I’d fought over sleepless nights. A part of my past that I wish wouldgo away.
A gust of cold wind whipped my hair around my face, sending a chill up my spine. I glanced around the woods and down the driveway that disappeared into the trees. A solid minute passed as I stood there listening for any reason to justify the weird feeling that I wasn’t alone.
You’re being ridiculous,I told myself.
I sighed, crossed the deck, my heels echoing into the dark night. My immediate instinct was to kick over the flowers, but instead, I picked up the chilled vase. The smell hit my nose like a high-dollar perfume.
No—like a hundred pounds of guilt.
Right there in my hand.
Juggling the load that included more than the weight in my hands, I unlocked the door, stepped inside and kicked it closed with my foot.
7
ROSE
Leaving a trail of heels across the living room floor, I beelined to the kitchen with one mission.
Wine.
I ripped the cork from my favorite Bordeaux like a rabid hyena and poured a glass fit for a lumberjack. Earthy, smoky perfection curled into my senses. I closed my eyes. Sipped.
Heaven in a bottle.
Clutching the glass to my chest, I leaned against the kitchen doorway and stared at the flowers still sitting in the entryway. For the millionth time, I questioned the decision I’d made eight weeks ago to end the relationship. A part of me hated him for not letting go. A darker part liked that he hadn’t. The result: a swirling cocktail of guilt and self-doubt. The same poison that had landed me here in the first place.
I swirled my wine, eyes locked on the flowers. That’s when I noticed the envelope nestled between the petals.
A note.
Of course there was a note.
I didn’t have to read it. Obviously. I could be the bigger person. So, I lifted my chin and moved into the living room.I clicked on a light. Rearranged the couch pillows. Alphabetized the Vogue magazines on the coffee table by month—then by color. But after five minutes of pretending I didn’t care, I gave in.
I plucked the envelope like it might bite me.
Three simple words:I miss you.
My shoulders sagged.
What waswrongwith me? Why couldn’t I just love him? Every other woman in town did. Why did I run from every relationship I’d ever had? Why couldn’t I give someone arealchance?
