I set the flowers carefully on my desk, sure to be gentle with the vase, but when I look up again, the deliveryman is already walking away. For a second, I stare after him, my skin tingling with awareness. There was something about him—a feeling of familiarity that doesn’t make any sense.
I can almost swear I know him, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him before…
I turn back to the bouquet, my pulse still slightly off-kilter. That’s when I notice the card stuck between the flower stalks.
I pick it up and flip it over, my heart skipping hard at the sight of the familiar sprawling handwriting.
Georgia,
You look beautiful in the jacket, just like I imagined.
Zane
My chest tightens, my heart racing even faster.
I don’t get much work done after that.
The flowers sit on my desk like a living thing, bright and impossible to ignore. I catch myself staring at them between calls, during meetings, while pretending to listen as my boss talks through next week’s schedule. My thoughts keep drifting back to the man whose face I still haven’t seen yet but has managed to rock my world in ways I never imagined.
By the time the day finally ends, I’ve conceived a plan that seems cute and foolish at the same time. The moment I walk into my apartment, I go straight to my workstation, grab a Post-it and a pen, and I quickly scribble the words that refuse to leave my head.
Thank you for the flowers. They made my day.
I stick it to the front door, smoothing it flat with my palm. Then I step back, ignoring the giddy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I head back inside.
***
The next morning, a new note is waiting underneath my door, the Post-it from the previous night gone. My stomach flips as I bend to pick it up.
I don’t open it right away.
I lock the door. Set my bag down. Take a breath that doesn’t quite reach my lungs. Then I unfold the paper.
You looked stunning yesterday, little mouse.
My heart skips a vital beat. Then another. I sink onto the edge of the small bench by the door, my breath picking up with excitement as I force myself to keep reading. He compliments the red jacket once again and says he’s glad I chose to wear it. Then he mentions my necklace—a thin chain with a small charm that rests just above my collarbone. He says it suits me and…
My breath hitches as a sudden realization hits me. There’s no way he would have noticed the necklace if he was watching me from a distance since my jacket would have covered it. I didn’t take the jacket off until I was at my desk. That can only mean one thing.
He didn’t just watch from a distance. He was there…in my office…
The delivery man
My fingers curl around the paper as the pieces click into place. The build. The hat. The sunglasses. The way he left too quickly. The familiarity I couldn’t name.
He delivered the flowers himself.
Now I know what he looks like—well, mostly. Butterflies flutter low in my belly as I close my eyes and let the image of him fill my mind.
He’s tall. Broad shouldered. With a head fall of dark hair and a well-groomed beard to match. Solid in a way that felt…safe. Controlled. I only saw him for a brief moment, but it was enough to make an impression.
This can’t go on like this. I need to do something.
So I grab a Post-it and a pen and press it against the door while I scribble the words that have been on my mind since I got his first letter:
Will you let me meet you?
I hesitate, then stick it firmly in place before I can talk myself out of it.
