I walk around the counter and sit at the computer, logging in to my account so I can finish the charting before leaving for the day, but she must feel chatty because she continues.
“I mean, being a Little Miss Goody Two-shoes never helped anybody. You’ll realize soon enough that I’m right.”
Hardly.
It takes everything in me to hold back an eye roll. Instead, I press my lips into a tight line and open the correct patient file.
“People just don’t appreciate it, and they can take—” She sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh my! Who’s the lucky girl?”
Her excited tone has me looking up from my computer. Eva is always grumpy, or even downright mean, so I’m curious what got her to cheer up out of the blue.
A teenage boy enters the ER, a bouquet in his hand. I glance toward Eva, who’s giddy like a schoolgirl as she eyes the flowers.
“I think Freddy must have mixed something up.”
I’ve seen the teen around Mrs. Jamison’s flower shop over the last few weeks, and I’m pretty sure I overheard somebody mention that he got his driver’s license recently and started helping his mom with the deliveries.
“Oh, shush, you!” Eva chastises at the same moment Freddy drawls, “No, ma’am. I’m at the right place.”
“See?” Eva smiles brightly. “It’s for us! Who sent it?”
I shake my head as she reaches for the card that’s tucked in between the flowers. “Who is it?—”
“It’s for Miss Richards.”
My lips part at the sound of my name, as all eyes turn to me. Freddy is smiling, his hands extended toward me. Eva, on the other hand, is scowling at the envelope she’s holding between her fingers, as if the name will change if she looks long enough.
“Me?” My brows pull together in confusion as I stare at the pink roses. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Freddy smiles at me as he hands me the bouquet.
My stomach does a weird flip, which is ridiculous.
The flowers in the bouquet are pretty similar to the rose I found tucked under my windshield a few days ago. There was no note. No explanation. Just a rose. Like the flowers Matthew brought for his mother when he visited her.
Is Matthew behind these as well? And if so, why?
“The note does say Jessica on it,” Eva mutters, clearly unhappy as she hands me the little white envelope.
I look at the name written in neat cursive, my fingers skimming over the letters. Definitely for me, then.
“Thank you, Freddy.” I hand the teen a couple of bucks I always have stashed in one of my pockets, and take the bouquet from him, inhaling the sweet scent as I run my finger over one of the flowers.
Looking around the reception space, I spot an old jar we keep there for moments like this, so I take it to the sink and fill it with water before placing them on the counter.
“They’re pretty,” Eva comments, a longing expression on her face.
“They are,” I answer absentmindedly as I slip back into my chair.
“Who’re they from?”
“I don’t know.” Picking up the envelope, I slip my finger under the flap and then pull out the note from inside.
“A secret admirer, maybe?”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, but my smile falls when I turn around the card.
From the first time I saw you, you took my breath away.
