“Call the florist, then, cuz, buy chocolate, and get ready to grovel. And trade in your damn car. You can’t be picking her up in the ride you screwed her sister in.”Chapter Eleven: So Sorry, StalkerCosy
Sundays are particularly hopping at STW, which means two things: I’m too busy to fixate much on the fact that Griffin has slept with my sister, and I’m not working on my own. Helix is on with me today, so at least I have company for my misery.
I like Helix; she’s actually the one who got me the job here in the first place. She’s also the one who taught me how to separate “embarrassed me” from “sales me.” Once I had that down, my sales commission tripled. I met her when I was registering for classes sophomore year. She was a freshman, but I had a first-year course I still needed to complete and we ended up in the class together. Despite the fact that I’m off on some adventure or other half the time, she and I have still managed to remain close.
I told her about what happened with Griffin—well, apart from the fact that I gave him my virginity. That little detail I keep to myself.
“Stalker alert,” Helix says as the bell over the door tinkles.
Freaking Eugene comes in wearing a white T-shirt that’s at least a size too small with a lot of questionable stains decorating it and jogging pants with a hole in the crotch. “I’m so not in the mood for him today.”
“You can take inventory duty. I’ll tell you when he’s gone.”
“Thanks.” I slip out from behind the cash desk and disappear into the stockroom. I can feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket. I’ve been ignoring all messages since Nev dropped me off for my shift.
The worst part, other than the fact that the guy who took my virginity also slept with my sister—in his car, no less—is that there are reminders of him everywhere in this stupid store. And this is why it’s not a good idea to date customers. Because when the relationship fails, as most inevitably do, I’m stuck with the memory of that person embedded in the stupid double-headed dildos and flavored lube.
Unable to resist the temptation when my phone buzzes against my butt for what feels like the millionth time in the past hour, I slip it out of my pocket and check the screen. Griffin is blowing up my messages. I want to check the content, but then I’ll feel compelled to deal with this and there might be tears. I’m not opposed to crying. In fact, I think it would probably feel good to let out some of this emotional turmoil. But that needs to wait until I’m home from work and I don’t have to worry about puffy eyes and mascara streaks.
“Cosy?” Helix pops her head in the stockroom. “Eugene is gone.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“There’s also a delivery for you.”
“What kind of delivery?”
“The kind that comes from a flower shop.”
My chest gets all tight and fluttery. I roll my eyes at my stupid sentimental heart. Still, I’m curious, so I follow her back to the sales counter where a giant, elaborate bouquet takes up the entire counter. “Holy crap.”
“He must really feel bad.”
“It looks like he tried to shove an entire flower store into one bouquet.” I finger the petals of one of the pretty flowers I can’t identify.
“There’s a card.” Helix flicks the envelope with my name on it.
I flip it open and slip the card out.
Cosy,
I’m sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. Please let me try to fix this.
Yours,
Griffin“More like mine and my sister’s.” I shove the card back in the envelope, but I don’t throw it out, which is the first sign that I’d like him to fix this too. I tuck the note into my purse. The bouquet is too big to leave on the counter, so I put it in the stockroom.
An hour later another bouquet arrives. This time it’s made out of cookies. Helix and I both eat three. She likes the white chocolate macadamia ones the best, and I like the oatmeal raisin ones because they’re chewy.
An hour after that a fruit bouquet arrives with yet another apology note. Every hour another gift arrives, including dinner—a burger and onion rings that I let Helix eat since I’m not hungry—until the store closes. I half expect Griffin to be waiting for me outside, but he’s not.
At home it’s more of the same; except it’s flowers upon flowers. And a spa gift certificate, conveniently located in his hotel. I leave my phone messages unchecked, but I can’t escape Griffin. He’s all over my apartment in apologies.
Nev is out, so all I can do is wallow in my self-pity. And I let those tears I’ve been holding onto out. I want this to be no big deal, but it feels like one. I wonder if Nev’s not here because she feels guilty too. I hate how much I like Griffin and how much this feels like a betrayal on both their parts, when neither of them had any control over it in the first place. It makes no sense, but I have so many emotions tied up in this, I don’t know what to do with them.