Listen to Your Heart(27)

“What did you do?”

“Maybe you should read the card.”

“Which card? They all have cards!”

She glances at a pile of pink daisies that currently take up residence on my couch. “So they do. All handwritten. And all with different messages. The boy’s good.”

“WHAT BOY?”

“Have you checked your email this morning?” Lynsey asks, darting around the room and snatching cards out of vases. “You should really do that.”

With a heavy sigh, I shove a bunch of daisies off my desk and open my laptop. I type in my password just as she carefully lays the cards on my desk, as if she’s offering me a precious gift from on high.

“Read your emails. Then read these.”

“Why do I have a feeling that I’m going to kill you today?”

“Never. You love me too much.” Lynsey smiles brightly and heads for the door. “I’ll just leave you to it. Call me if you need me. And you will need me.”

She rushes out, leaving me alone in my field of wildflowers. They really are lovely, even if the smell is making me a little lightheaded.

Glancing at my computer screen, my heart skips a beat when I notice a familiar name in my inbox.

She’s dead. She is so, so dead.

With trembling hands, I click on the email.

Skye,

I hope you like the flowers.

I pray you’re not allergic.

I know I’ve made a mess of things. Please give me a chance to make it right. There is an explanation, I promise.

Oh, and tell Lynsey I’ll need the name of another florist. I’m pretty sure I’ve liquidated Pansy’s entire wildflower inventory for the year.

I miss you more than you can possibly imagine.

Love,





Caleb

Stunned, I gaze around the room. They’re all from Caleb?

I start ripping open the little card envelopes. Each message is short and handwritten, full of sweet words that make my eyes fill with tears. Lynsey’s right. Every card says something different.

Caleb did this. He did all this for me.

I’ve barely made a dent in the card pile when I hear my door open slightly. Lynsey peeks in, with a look so hopeful I almost laugh.

Almost.

“Get your skinny ass in here.”

Lynsey steps inside and gently closes the door behind her.

“Are you ready to listen now?” she asks quietly.

“You talked to him?”

She nods.

“You actually talked to him? You put him up to this?”

“He’s adorable, Skye.”

“He’s a liar, Lynsey!”

She sighs heavily and walks toward my desk. Normally, she likes to perch her bony ass on top of it, but today, she settles for the couch.

“Yes, I talked to him.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I knew there had to be more to this story, and I was right.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does, Skye. It really does.”

I shake my head. This morning, I gave myself a pep talk all the way to the office, determined to make today a good day. I just want to get through one day without crying. Is that asking too much?

“Call someone and get this shit out of my office. Donate them to a hospital or something, but get them out of here.”

“Fine, but aren’t you curious. Just a little?”

“Is he still engaged?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then no, I’m not curious at all.”

I’m a liar, and she knows it. Where is her loyalty? She’s my best friend. Mine. What is she doing talking to Caleb behind my back and talking him into ridiculous spectacles like what’s in my office right now? How could she?

“Skye, you honestly have no idea how complicated this situation is.”

“Then tell me, Lynsey. You seem to have all the answers.”

“I think I should show you instead,” she says, glancing down at her phone. “I have a meeting with the mother of the bride. You’re coming with me.”

“Not a chance.”

“You know Juliana’s still out of town. We have to get approval on the invitations.”

“And she can’t come here?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you call the groom and let him approve them? You two seem pretty friendly these days.”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“I’m being dramatic? Look at my office!”

With a resigned sigh, Lynsey stands up from her chair. “He won’t be there. I would never do that to you. You need to meet her mother, Skye. You need to see.”

“See what?”

“That you were right. He’s not an asshole.”

My head throbs. I don’t know if it’s because she’s talking in riddles or because my office smells like a garden.

I sneeze again. Four times in a row.

“Fine. I’ll go, but only because I want to stop by the pharmacy for allergy meds. And you’re paying for them because this is all your fault.”

She smiles triumphantly and follows me to the door. “Deal.”

“And I want these flowers gone when I get back.”