“Sure. Whatever you want, Doc. But hey, please don’t regret this. Not for one minute. You wanted it, and I wanted it, and it was fucking incredible.”
I let out a manic sounding little laugh as I run my hands through my hair.
"Alright?”he queries, grasping my shoulders squarely in his hands and gently turning me toward him to make eye contact.
I nod, mostly because I don’t know what else to do.
“Alright. So, can I… text you later?”he asks.
God, who asks that?
“Yes,” I reply promptly.
And he smiles, those fucking dimples of his popping out and making my heart race. Then he grabs my hand to swiftly kiss the back of it with closed lips. My heart surges in my chest.
Before I can change my mind,he’s walking away toward the foyer to collect his boots. I hear the distinct click of the front door close, and Bundy lets out a clearly disappointedprrreowfromsomewhere down the hallway.
Me, too, bud. Me, too.
____________________
I wake from a deep and dreamless sleep and stumble out of the bedroom. I feel dazed and slightly hungover, despite not having had any wine or alcohol of any kind yesterday.
Huh, can’t remember the last time that happened.
I feed Bundy and check his water bowl, then head into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. Passing the foyer, I notice the outline of a brown parcel leaning up against the window to the left of the front door. I make a detour to grab the package. It’s a small rectangle, wrapped in heavy duty brown paper, and tied together with twine. Tucked into the twine is a small rhododendron. Looking up, I let my eyes fall around the porch and down the long driveway. No one in sight.
Closing the door, I set the delicate pink flower down on my entryway table.
“Are not flowers the stars of the earth?”I recite in my head. Clara Lucas Balfour had said that. Seeing the beauty of the little bloom reminded me of it. Momentarily, I am transported back to a stolen moment, on a late afternoon, long ago. At the edge of the forest, a tall and handsome boy emerging from the thick tree line as if from magic…
My fingers move aside the twine, and I rip open the parcel.
I know what it is from the first peek at the worn, dark brown spine: It’s the first edition ofPride and PrejudiceI had spotted on Zayn’s bookshelf.
My mouth falls open. He must have noticed me admiring it. Of course he had. And he had gifted it to me.
Pulling out my phone, I immediately text Zayn, whose number remains unsaved in my phone as UNKNOWN.
Me
You didn’t. You fucking did not.
Unknown
Well good morning to you, too, sunshine. I, in fact, did.
My teeth gnaw at the inside of my cheek as I type out my reply.
Me
I can’t accept this, you know.
Unknown
Of course you can, baby. You will cherish it and give it a far better home than I will.
I smile. Iwouldcherish it. It’s one of my favorite Austen’s, and I am struck once again by how well this man seems to know me without me ever having to say a word.
