Skye – 25 years
“Oh, my God!”
I jumped, spilling coffee down my white blouse. Paris’ shriek had me racing for the front door. “What?” I said, taking in her startled face.
“Who leaves dried roses for someone, how creepy is that?” She shook her head, holding out a box to me. “It was on the front step.”
Frowning, I took the box. The shocked gasp froze in my throat as I stared at the blue roses set on a white satin cushion. They were perfectly dried, no mold, no broken leaves and each with a little strip of paper wrapped around the stem. “Shay,” I whispered.
“He sent you those?”
I looked up to find Paris eyeing me curiously. Overcome with an ache no medication would erase, I nodded.
“I’m guessing they have a meaning?” she asked, following me back to the kitchen.
“Mom, I can’t find my sneakers and I need them for gym today,” Griffin shouted from upstairs.
“I’ll help.” Paris squeezed my arm before she left.
Worried my shaking hands would drop them, I set the box on the island. Several deep inhales brought the calm I needed. With gentle movements, I retrieved the roses and laid them out, one by one on the counter. I unwrapped the piece of paper on the first flower and noticed it had a number before a message. There were six in total.
Checking each one, I placed them in order and then read each message out loud, “Year one, if only you’d stayed. Year two, if only I never let you walk away. Year three, if only my soul could live without you. Year four, if only my heart could rest every night. Year five, if only I hadn’t lost you. Year six, if only you’d come back to me.”
By the time I read the last one, I was crying so hard, I feared Griffin would come rushing down to see what was wrong. They reminded me of the similar wishes I’d made on my birthday every year since leaving home.
“I’m sorry, Shay.” I touched each rose, my heart swelling that he’d kept them and over the pain he must’ve endured, just like me.
“Mom,” Griffin called out.
Quickly, I turned away to face the sink, grabbing the dish towel as I heard his footsteps approach. “Yes, baby,” I replied without looking at him and trying to wipe my eyes. My mascara was probably ruined and my nose splotchy. Silence had me turning. The towel fell from my fingers, my gaze locking on eyes with a hue so softly grey they could have been pencil drawn.
“Morning,” Shay’s greeting was so gentle my heartbeat hitched.
Was this the same man who’d stormed out of here a week ago, threatening to make me beg for him to fuck me.
Definitely not.
This man was serene, that man was pure sex on two legs, yet both resided in the same body. In dark blue sweats, gray hoodie and wet hair, he looked like he’d gone for a run. Still, it was hard not to admire him.
“The door was open.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder then neared me. “You’ve been crying.” He ran light knuckles down my cheek and my eyes closed, savoring his touch. “Blue,” my name was whispered with such intense longing my eyelids fluttered open.
We stared at each other, not speaking, barely breathing, yet comfortable in the silence. “You remembered.” I broke the quiet and tipped my chin at the flowers.
“No distance or time would make me forget, ever,” he smiled. “I’ll remember until we’re old and gray.” I forced myself to breathe, to remember he couldn’t be mine. “I’ll always be yours, Blue,” he said as if he read my mind.
Since he arrived like a tornado into my life and while I’d kept my distance, I watched him move into Frank’s place. Griffin had gone over a couple of times, and I’d let him since I had no valid reason to stop him. Now hearing Shay say the words I’d ached to hear, left me reeling with a mixture of fear and longing. Scared I’d break again and yearning for the life I always wanted.
“Hey, Shay.” Griffin arriving pulled me out of my reflections and made Shay step away. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought your mom would join me for breakfast, if I asked nicely.” He lifted questioning eyes to me, a hint of the old Shay playing around his lips.
“She doesn’t eat breakfast.” My talkative son poured milk into a bowl before fetching the Coco Rice Krispies from the pantry.
Immediately, Shay’s eyes sought mine, “You don’t?” he asked, his devilish smile had me wondering what he was up to in place. I nodded. “Would you like Cocochino then?”
“What’s that,” Griffin asked, glancing between the two of us.
“A special drink I used to make for a very special girl,” Shay responded but his eyes stayed on me. “She’d never drink it if anyone else made it.”
