Sighing, I slump down onto one of the stools and shoot him an apologetic look. “No, of course I don’t want that. It’s just…hard to think of you still seeing him when I won’t be. I guess it hurts a little.”
“He’s hurting too,” he reprimands, and turns back to the flowers. “How about coming and giving me a hand with these?”
I roll off the stool and walk with slumped shoulders over to the cooler, methodically dragging each of the flower buckets out into the open area so we can count our stock. We work quietly, which is unusual, because Stevie always keeps up a running banter of gossipy goodness. He’s miffed at me and probably confused, but I just don’t know any other way to explain my actions to him.
After about twenty minutes, we have the flowers counted and our order forms completed for when the truck will arrive this afternoon with fresh stock.
“Go ahead and get started on the orders,” Stevie says distractedly, and heads for the front of the store to unlock the door for customers.
“Hey,” I call out to him, and he turns to me with inquisitive eyes. “Is, um…is he seeing anyone?”
“Seeing anyone?” Stevie asks curiously.
“You know…back to his man-whore ways, or maybe…dating someone seriously?”
A tiny glint of a smile forms on Stevie’s face, but he doesn’t let it loose. Instead, he casually shrugs. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t discuss his sex life with me.”
“His sex life? He has a sex life?” I practically screech, and I know it’s ludicrous even as the words coated in razor wire escape my mouth.
Stevie’s smile widens and turns positively evil. “Slip of the tongue,” he says blandly. “No clue what Garrett does in his personal time. He’s been quiet about it with me, but then again…do you think he’d really tell me if he was seeing someone? Knowing that it would get back to you?”
My stomach drops, rolls over, cramps painfully. My heart constricts just as hard within my chest, and it feels as if all the oxygen in my lungs dissipates. Garrett definitely would not tell Stevie if he was dating again. And the fact he hasn’t said anything leads me to believe that he has, indeed, moved on from me and is seeing other women.
Anger flushes through me, followed by despair and longing, because I have no right to be angry. I have no right to expect anything of him, because not only did I break up with him, but I ignored his emails that he sent to me in a last-ditch attempt to keep me connected to him. When I didn’t do anything, it took away his hope, and he’s clearly moved on.
That thought is so painful, I double over and cross my arms over my stomach.
But I deserve this…I deserve this pain. I deserve to feel it, because I know Garrett has felt it. But I need to keep my resolve too. I need to seek comfort from knowing that eventually this pain will recede, and then Garrett can move on with his life and find someone better suited for him. That has to be my balm.
That has to keep me strong, and I’m grateful that Stevie isn’t pushing at me to let Garrett back in.
—
The morning goes by quickly, and I get immersed deeply in the soothing motions of creating various arrangements. Stevie is conspicuously silent, and his message is clear as he handles the customers up front. He’s not happy with my choices, he’s completely sympathetic to Garrett, and he’s letting me know it. So be it…I don’t answer to him and I didn’t make these choices with any thought other than saving Garrett potential heartbreak and misery down the road.
The front doorbell rings and I can hear Stevie talking to someone in a low voice. I tune it out and sink back into the simple vase of red roses and baby’s breath I’m putting together.
“Hey,” I hear, and my head raises, my eyes widening in surprise when I see Alex leaning against the door frame.
“Hey,” I say hesitantly, completely flummoxed why he would be standing here. While Alex is engaged to Sutton, and I’m extremely close to her, I’m not necessarily very close to Alex. He’s always friendly and engaging, and I know he cares about me, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why he would come to see me. “Are you here to buy some flowers?”
“Um…no…I’m actually here to see you,” he says with a short smile as he steps in through the doorway to the design area and shuts the door. I glance through the window to the front and see Stevie with his head bowed over some receipts spread out on the checkout counter.
Alex walks over to my design table and leans over, sniffing at the roses. “Nice,” he says as he pulls back, and then sits down on the stool beside me.
I swivel my body toward him and just look at him in curiosity. He’s dressed in a pair of well-faded jeans and a long-sleeved black thermal tee. His dark hair is choppy and wavy all around his face and his pale eyes watch me with intensity.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, again for the life of me just not understanding why he’s here.
“I wanted to talk to you about Garrett,” he says simply, his voice firm and in control.
My voice, however, shakes when I ask, “What’s to talk about?”
“Oh, there’s a lot to talk about, Olivia. Mainly I want to talk about how you broke my best friend’s heart.” He’s angry and feels warranted in giving me a piece of his mind. I get it and I accept that anger. I’d feel the same if I was in his shoes.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t make this decision lightly.”
“He’s hurting too,” he reprimands, and turns back to the flowers. “How about coming and giving me a hand with these?”
I roll off the stool and walk with slumped shoulders over to the cooler, methodically dragging each of the flower buckets out into the open area so we can count our stock. We work quietly, which is unusual, because Stevie always keeps up a running banter of gossipy goodness. He’s miffed at me and probably confused, but I just don’t know any other way to explain my actions to him.
After about twenty minutes, we have the flowers counted and our order forms completed for when the truck will arrive this afternoon with fresh stock.
“Go ahead and get started on the orders,” Stevie says distractedly, and heads for the front of the store to unlock the door for customers.
“Hey,” I call out to him, and he turns to me with inquisitive eyes. “Is, um…is he seeing anyone?”
“Seeing anyone?” Stevie asks curiously.
“You know…back to his man-whore ways, or maybe…dating someone seriously?”
A tiny glint of a smile forms on Stevie’s face, but he doesn’t let it loose. Instead, he casually shrugs. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t discuss his sex life with me.”
“His sex life? He has a sex life?” I practically screech, and I know it’s ludicrous even as the words coated in razor wire escape my mouth.
Stevie’s smile widens and turns positively evil. “Slip of the tongue,” he says blandly. “No clue what Garrett does in his personal time. He’s been quiet about it with me, but then again…do you think he’d really tell me if he was seeing someone? Knowing that it would get back to you?”
My stomach drops, rolls over, cramps painfully. My heart constricts just as hard within my chest, and it feels as if all the oxygen in my lungs dissipates. Garrett definitely would not tell Stevie if he was dating again. And the fact he hasn’t said anything leads me to believe that he has, indeed, moved on from me and is seeing other women.
Anger flushes through me, followed by despair and longing, because I have no right to be angry. I have no right to expect anything of him, because not only did I break up with him, but I ignored his emails that he sent to me in a last-ditch attempt to keep me connected to him. When I didn’t do anything, it took away his hope, and he’s clearly moved on.
That thought is so painful, I double over and cross my arms over my stomach.
But I deserve this…I deserve this pain. I deserve to feel it, because I know Garrett has felt it. But I need to keep my resolve too. I need to seek comfort from knowing that eventually this pain will recede, and then Garrett can move on with his life and find someone better suited for him. That has to be my balm.
That has to keep me strong, and I’m grateful that Stevie isn’t pushing at me to let Garrett back in.
—
The morning goes by quickly, and I get immersed deeply in the soothing motions of creating various arrangements. Stevie is conspicuously silent, and his message is clear as he handles the customers up front. He’s not happy with my choices, he’s completely sympathetic to Garrett, and he’s letting me know it. So be it…I don’t answer to him and I didn’t make these choices with any thought other than saving Garrett potential heartbreak and misery down the road.
The front doorbell rings and I can hear Stevie talking to someone in a low voice. I tune it out and sink back into the simple vase of red roses and baby’s breath I’m putting together.
“Hey,” I hear, and my head raises, my eyes widening in surprise when I see Alex leaning against the door frame.
“Hey,” I say hesitantly, completely flummoxed why he would be standing here. While Alex is engaged to Sutton, and I’m extremely close to her, I’m not necessarily very close to Alex. He’s always friendly and engaging, and I know he cares about me, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why he would come to see me. “Are you here to buy some flowers?”
“Um…no…I’m actually here to see you,” he says with a short smile as he steps in through the doorway to the design area and shuts the door. I glance through the window to the front and see Stevie with his head bowed over some receipts spread out on the checkout counter.
Alex walks over to my design table and leans over, sniffing at the roses. “Nice,” he says as he pulls back, and then sits down on the stool beside me.
I swivel my body toward him and just look at him in curiosity. He’s dressed in a pair of well-faded jeans and a long-sleeved black thermal tee. His dark hair is choppy and wavy all around his face and his pale eyes watch me with intensity.
“So, what’s up?” I ask, again for the life of me just not understanding why he’s here.
“I wanted to talk to you about Garrett,” he says simply, his voice firm and in control.
My voice, however, shakes when I ask, “What’s to talk about?”
“Oh, there’s a lot to talk about, Olivia. Mainly I want to talk about how you broke my best friend’s heart.” He’s angry and feels warranted in giving me a piece of his mind. I get it and I accept that anger. I’d feel the same if I was in his shoes.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I didn’t make this decision lightly.”
