Yeah, he was.
Ugh, get out of my head, dirty thoughts.
“I do.” Victoria places her hands on her hips.
“Okay, brown-noser, what type of flower is it?”
“Well before I brought them in here I google image searched.” A huge grin erupts out of her like she’s so proud of herself.
“And?”
“They are purple hyacinth flowers. There’s a Greek myth about them being named after a youth when Apollo and Zephyr caused a strong wind—”
“Okay, teacher’s pet, I don’t need a lesson on Greek Mythology. What does the flower mean?”
I ask even though I have an idea.
“It’s an apology. Whoever sends them is asking for your forgiveness.” Victoria’s eyes turn all dreamy like she’s witnessing a wedding where the couple writes their own vows and the groom cries.
This is just an asshole sending flowers five years too late.
I pick the bunch of them up out of the glass vase and drop them in the trash can.
“Chels!” Vic says about to bend down and pull them out. “Don’t let the jerk ruin receiving some gorgeous flowers.”
“Leave them.” I open the card and read Dean’s message.
The reality is people mess up. Don’t let one mistake ruin a beautiful thing.
Love, Dean
I dispose of the note with the flowers and Victoria gasps. She’s all happy and lovey now, but I bet back in her Pete days she was the same as I am now.
She grabs the note from the trash can and reads it over.
“Don’t get sappy, he didn’t write that.” I sit back down at my desk, going through my emails before I have to leave for the dress fitting for my cousin’s wedding.
“How do you know?” She honestly looks disappointed. Jeez, Reed’s really done a number on her. He must have a unicorn cock.
“Because that’s not Dean. Not to mention, he made more than one mistake and what we had wasn’t beautiful. So he’s wrong on both counts.”
She holds the small card in her hand. “You know what I think? Talk it out and move on with your life. It’s not good for you to harbor these feelings inside.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.”
“Chels,” she sighs.
“What’s going on in here?” Hannah looks from Victoria to me and then sees the flowers in the trash. “What a beautiful flower. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an entire bouquet of them before.”
“They’re purple hyacinth flowers,” Victoria says like the keener in the first row at school.
I roll my eyes.
Hannah pulls one out of the trash.
“Miss Horticulture over there has a whole story to go with the flower.” I mindlessly scroll down my emails to double check that I haven’t missed any for today. I just want to appear busy so these two will leave my office. It’s bad enough I’ll have to put on a brave face when I see my mother today.
“I google image searched,” Vic deadpans, her disappointed eyes on me the entire time. She’s really got that mother guilt thing down pat. Watch out, Jade.
“From our tax attorney, I suppose?” Hannah asks, her eyes practically sparkling.
“Why do you two keep romanticizing this?” I leave my computer and stand, retrieving my stuff off the table on the opposite wall.
“Because everyone loves the wooing of a woman,” Victoria says.
“Am I the only one who remembers how I told you he’d be out all night partying, drinking too much, pretending I didn’t exist, and just how bad the end our relationship was?”
Victoria shrugs because she’s still in the wooing phase right now. The man bought a house right next to her mother’s so she could remain close to her. Yeah, he’s in that love bubble right now.
“Well, forty percent of American’s make it,” Hannah says matter-of-factly.
“Forty percent of American’s don’t want to divorce, and I bet only ten percent are actually happy. I mean people stay in miserable marriages for all kinds of reasons—kids, money and pure laziness.” I slide my bag up on my shoulder.
“That’s pretty cynical,” Victoria says.
“Says someone heading toward the ten percent.”
Hannah giggles. “Believe me, Chels, I’m with you. The marriage thing isn’t for me either, but I don’t think we should knock it entirely.” She flips her head in Victoria’s direction who currently has a look on her face like she just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.
“I want to believe, I really do, but between the shit dates I’ve been on and now my ex who thinks he can woo me into giving him a second chance? Hell will have to freeze over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment to go and be criticized by my mother for the next several hours.” I pump my fist up in the air. “Keep the good times coming.”
I walk out, sliding between them. Neither of them says anything to stop me. It’s not until I’m on the elevator that my phone dings in my purse.
Unknown: No thank you?
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Am I in competition? How many men do you have sending you flowers these days?
“AHHHHHH!” I scream inside the elevator then quickly change his name in my phone. The name I choose might not be true, but I’m going to try to retrain my brain.
Me: How did you get my number?
Minute Man: I have magical ways. You must remember that. ;)
I ignore the zing between my legs.
Me: Delete it now.
Minute Man: Tell me, would you delete Harry Styles number if you had it?
Oh, this man and his knowledge of my younger self. What can I say…it was a phase.
Me: Don’t send me anything again.
Minute Man: Was it the quote?
Me: You don’t send your ex-wife flowers.
Minute Man: I’ve never heard that. I think it’s a myth. I’m sure plenty of guys send their ex’s flowers.
Me: Dean, this is my final warning.
Minute Man: What are you going to do if I don’t stop? ;)
Me: You don’t want to know.
Minute Man: Ah, Chels, you’ve always been all bark.
Okay, he’s baiting me and I’m not going to take it.
Me: Fine. Whatever. I don’t have to answer your text messages.
Minute Man: Funny. Seems you can’t stop yourself now.
I press the button on my phone and drop it into my purse, noticing that I’m now outside the office building at the corner waiting to cross.
How did I even get here?
My phone continues to ding inside my purse, but I ignore it as I walk the four blocks to the dress shop. This afternoon fucking sucks and as of right now I don’t see a rainbow at the end given that I’m about to meet the most critical woman on the planet who also happens to be my mother.
Chapter Five
If texting with your ex-husband who you haven’t seen in five years and who just sent you flowers after you masturbated to memories of him for an entire weekend doesn’t put you in the mood to be in a room full of wedding dresses, I don’t know what will.