Listen to Your Heart(26)

Right now, my fate is in Lynsey’s hands.

“Tell me what to do, Lynsey.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Caleb. You have to understand that Skye’s faith in love was shaky at best even before you came along. I don’t know how she’ll handle this information. I really don’t.”

“Would she wait for me?”

“You mean would she wait for that poor woman to die just so that the two of you can be together?”

I take a shuddering breath.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t know, Caleb. What you’re doing for this woman is commendable, and maybe, if you’d been honest from the beginning . . . but I don’t know. I’m just not sure she could ever forgive that. And I really don’t know if she’ll want to be part of this charade.”

I bury my head in my hands and nod numbly.

“But, yes, she’s crazy about you, so let me see what I can do.”

My heart thunders in my chest. “Seriously? You’re going to help me?”

“I’m helping her. There’s a difference.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll do anything, Lynsey.”

She grins mischievously. “You might regret those words.”

“Anything,” I repeat firmly, and she nods.

“Okay. You need to talk to her. I’m going to try to make that happen. I’m making zero promises, Caleb.”

“Got it.”

“In the meantime, you need to woo.”

“Woo?”

“Woo. I’m talking pretty flowers, sappy texts. You’re a musician, right? You know how much she loves 80s music. Use that to your advantage. Continue with the voice mails because I know for a fact she’s listening to them. And email. It’s a wonderful invention and gives you the chance to really pour your heart out. Start using it. For flowers, I recommend Pansy at The Flower Pot. But do me a favor? Don’t tell her I sent you, just in case this blows up in our faces.”

She then gives me Skye’s email address and the number for the florist. I enter both into my phone.

“I really appreciate this, Lynsey.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Skye’s very stubborn. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Understood.”

She glances at her watch. “Okay, you’ve got to go. She’ll be back any minute.”

“Couldn’t I stay? I’d love to just—”

“No! Out the door. Now.”

I chuckle while she hustles me out of her office and all but drags me to the parking lot. To my great disappointment, Skye’s nowhere to be seen.

“Lynsey, can I ask a question?”

“You have exactly ten seconds.”

“Why are you helping me? Not that I’m not grateful.”

She sighs heavily. “I’m helping you because I’ve never seen my best friend as shattered as she’s been these past few days. I’m helping you because I sincerely believe you care about her. If I didn’t believe that, you’d be six feet under by now. I have connections, Lynch.”

I grin. I don’t doubt her for a second.

“Go write your sappy love songs and order your flowers. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Lynsey. For everything.”

“Don’t thank me yet. This may not work.”

“Thank you, anyway.”

Lynsey gives me her first real smile before heading back inside.





“Good morning, Robyn.” I smile sweetly at our receptionist. I’ve been less-than-friendly the past couple days, so I’m determined to make today a good one. Plus, it’s Friday. It’s hard to be a grouch on Fridays.

“Good morning,” she says, laughing nervously as she hands me my messages. “I really hope you took your allergy medicine this morning.”

What an odd thing to say.

“I . . . don’t have allergies.”

“Lucky for you.” She grins and leaps out of her chair, taking me by the hand and leading me to my office. When she opens the door, my eyes grow wide as I take in the scene before me.

Flowers. Wall to wall flowers.

And not just any flowers.

Daisies.

Lots of daisies.

“Holy crap.”

Robyn sighs dreamily.

“Good morning!” Lynsey chirps brightly from behind me.

I’m suddenly being shoved into my office where the fragrance of wildflowers overwhelms my senses and causes me to sneeze. Repeatedly.

Maybe I do need allergy medicine.

“Did we rob a florist?”

She nods in appreciation as she scans the room. “I have to hand it to him. The boy’s impressive.”

“What boy?” I weave my way through the labyrinth of daisies as I search for my desk. Yellow. Pink. White. Purple. Most are in vases. Some aren’t. A single daisy rests in my chair. I toss it onto the floor and fall into my seat.

“I really meant for him to spread the deliveries out a little, but this works, too.”

“What boy, Lyns?”

My best friend, who is only quiet when she sleeps, suddenly grows silent.

“Say something, Lynsey Evans.”

“Aren’t they gorgeous, Skye?”