The Devil Wears Black(57)
“I concur.” The woman beside us lifted her arm. “Super dumb move.”
“Thanks for the input. I was anxious to know what a complete fucking stranger makes of my character.” I threw her a polite smile before turning my gaze back to Madison and gathering her palms in mine. “I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you right now, and it’s more than I’ve ever offered a woman before.”
“Well, I appreciate your twisted, bizarre, backward-logic truth,” Madison said, plucking her hands from mine and smoothing her dress over her thighs. “But even if you haven’t cheated on me, the fact is you still hurt me. The answer is no.”
“I figured you’d say this. Hence why I came here to buy Ethan and me flowers.” I motioned around the flower shop like she didn’t know where we were. It was not my brightest move, but the success of my plan was in jeopardy. “You know your flowers, right? I’m going to get an identical plant for both Ethan and me. The one that’s most difficult to keep alive indoors—your pick. If Ethan really is Mr. Perfect and I’m such a shitbag, surely he can show his commitment by keeping the plant alive.”
She blinked at me. “Not following your logic.”
“The jasmines.” I worked hard on not baring my teeth like an animal. “You said you care when flowers die, right? Gave me a whole goddamn speech about it, if I recall correctly. You’re obsessed with flowers and keeping them alive.” I took a breath, realizing that she associated the flowers at her desk with her mother, and her mother was dead, and flowers really meant a whole fucking lot to her. “You’re rabid about the subject.”
“You’re really selling this grand gesture to me.” Madison scrunched her forehead. “But can you turn the asshole in you down a notch while explaining this so I can see past the fog of wanting to punch you in the face? Thank you.”
I suppressed a smile. Real Maddie really was much better than the light, fat-free, gluten-free version who’d entered my life some months ago. Yeah, she was a do-gooder, but she was no pushover, I’d learned.
“You said you care about plants. That how people take care of them is a testament of their character. Well, I think Ethan doesn’t care. Not enough. Not about you, at least. Not as much as me.”
There was silence. When I looked up from her face, I noticed that the entire store was watching us, not just that thirtysomething couple. We’d had a very vocal argument, consisting of my (not so) cheating past and a declaration of intent, and now people knew there was another man in the game. I was one plastic surgery and nude scandal away from being a guest on The Real Housewives of Whereverthefuck.
“Azaleas,” she whispered, looking deep in thought. Her legs carried her to the far end of the store. I followed her, spellbound. The couple choosing wedding flowers followed me. I turned around to stop them, holding a hand up.
“That’s it for you, Mr. and Mrs. Peepson.”
“But I want to know how it ends,” the woman whined.
“Spoiler alert: I get the girl. Move along now.”
I caught up with Madison standing in front of a bunch of blooming pink, red, and purple azaleas. Her eyes shone.
“They like cool, humid spaces and are considered to be almost impossible to make bloom. They’ll be a headache to keep alive in New York in August. The task is nearly undoable. Only one in eleven azalea plants survives. I remember my dad hated keeping azaleas in their shop. He listed all the reasons why his customers needed to choose another flower when men bought them for their wives.” Pause. “But my mom . . .” She trailed off. “They were her favorite. So every Friday, no matter what, rain or shine, he brought her azaleas.”
“I’ll keep my azaleas alive,” I clipped.
She tore her gaze from the flowers, frowning at me. “How do I know you won’t task your housekeeper with keeping them? Or hire a gardener?”
“Because I’m not an immoral bastard,” I said simply. She gave me a disbelieving look. I supposed she had a point.
“I won’t be an immoral bastard about this,” I amended, and I let her pick two plants of her choosing. We walked to the cashier. Mad asked for a Sharpie, told me to turn around, and marked both plants in a way that would make her recognize them in case I got a replacement. I would ask her where the trust was, but considering everything we’d gone through together, I guessed the answer to that question was the bottom of a fucking trash can. There was no trust between us whatsoever.
I paid for the flowers, then told the cashier to put whatever the nosy couple ordered for their wedding on my tab. Madison stared at me like I’d lost my mind. I shrugged. “I’ll see your Martyr Maddie and raise you Charity Chase with a side of Blissful Black.”
She laughed. I wasn’t ready for that laugh. It came out throaty and genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners. My dick wasn’t the first responder this time around. It was another organ. One that had sat dormant for years. One that had no business waking up.
“Afraid I’m going to beat your little boyfriend at his own flower game?” I raised an eyebrow, all nonchalant and shit.
“He is not my boyfr—” she started, then clapped her mouth shut. I flashed her a smile full of triumph.
It was on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN