Trenton was clearly working to keep his face smooth. “They were delivered to the shop late, after you left. They’re not from me.”
“Who are they from?” I asked.
He pointed to the vase. “There’s a card.”
I walked over and plucked the miniature red envelope from its plastic holder. When I pulled the card out, my lips moved but nothing came out as I quickly read the words.
I talked myself out of this several times this week, but I had to.
Love always,
T.
I closed my eyes. “Damn it.” I laid the card upside down and flat on the light-green Formica and held it there, glancing at Trenton. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I am not talking to him. We haven’t spoken in weeks.”
“So it was T.J.,” Trenton said, his face and neck turning three shades of red.
“Yes, but I don’t even think he knows why he sent them. Let’s just . . .” I reached for him, but he pulled away. “Let’s just forget about them,” I said, gesturing dismissively toward the roses, “and have a good time tonight.” Trenton shoved his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed together in a hard line. “Please?” I begged.
“He sent them to f**k with your head. And mine.”
“No,” I said, “he wouldn’t do that.”
“Don’t defend him! This is bullshit!” he said as he turned for the door, and then turned back to face me. “I’ve been sitting at work this whole time, staring at those f**king things. I wanted to calm down before I got here, but this is just . . . it’s f**king disrespectful, is what it is! I bust my ass trying to prove to you that I’m better for you than he ever was. But he keeps pulling this shit, and showing up, and . . . I can’t compete with some rich college boy from California. I’m barely getting by, with no degree, and up until a few days ago I still lived with my dad. But I am so f**king in love you, Cami,” he said, reaching for me. “I have been since we were kids. The first time I saw you on the playground, I knew what beauty was. The first time you ignored me was my first broken heart. I thought I was playing this right, from the moment I sat down at your table at the Red. No one has ever wanted someone as much as I want you. For years I . . .” He was breathing hard, and he clenched his jaw. “When I heard about your dad, I wanted to rescue you,” he said, chuckling, but not out of humor. “And that night at your apartment, I thought I’d finally gotten something right.” He pointed to the ground. “That my purpose in life was to love you and keep you safe . . . but I didn’t prepare for having to share you.”
I didn’t know if I could fix this. It was our first Valentine’s Day, and he was furious. But I knew those flowers had nothing to do with Trenton and everything to do with T.J. being miserable. He loved me, but we just couldn’t make it work. Trenton didn’t understand because any attempt at an explanation would lead to questions—questions I couldn’t answer. It was hard to be mad at either of them, and easy to be angry at myself for putting us all in this situation.
I walked into the kitchen, pulled out the trash can, picked up the vase, and let it fall straight to the bottom.
Trenton watched me with a grimace, and then his entire face softened. “You didn’t have to do that!”
I rushed over to him and wrapped my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shoulder. Even when I wore heels, he was taller than me. “I don’t want those flowers.” I looked up at him. “I do, however, want you. You’re not the one I’m stuck with because I didn’t get my first choice. If you think you’re in love with two people, you pick the second one, right? Because if I really loved T.J., I couldn’t have fallen in love with you.”
Trenton looked down at me, his eyes heavy with sadness. “In theory,” he said, laughing once.
“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. Every woman who’s met you wants a shot at you. How could you ever think you’re the consolation prize?”
Trenton touched my jaw with his palm, and then he walked away from me. “Goddammit! I ruined our whole night! I’m such a f**kin’ jerk, Cami! I was stressing because I wanted to get you flowers, but they’re all so damn expensive . . . and then that ridiculously gigantic bouquet shows up. I’m a dick. I’m an unreasonable, selfish, insecure dick who is so scared of losing you. It’s too hard to believe that you’re already mine.” His eyes were so sad, it broke my heart.
“Since we were kids? You never talked to me, though. I didn’t think you knew who I was.”
He laughed once. “You terrified me.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A Maddox boy? Afraid?”
His face compressed. “We’ve already lost the first woman we ever loved. The thought of going through that again scares the shit out of us.”
My eyes instantly filled with tears, and then spilled over. I gripped his shirt in my fists and pulled him against me, kissing him hard, and then I ran to my room, picked up the small sack and card, and returned to him. I held the sack in front of me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
Trenton blanched. “I am the biggest dickhole in the history of dickholes.”
“Why?”
“I was so worried about the flowers, I forgot your present at the shop.”
“It’s okay,” I said, waving him off. “This is not a big deal.”
He opened the card, read it, and looked up at me. “The card I got you is not this good.”
“Stop. Open your present,” I said, a little giddy.
He reached in, and pulled out something rolled in white tissue paper. He opened it up, and held out the T-shirt in front of him. Still holding it high, he poked his head around. “Your present isn’t this awesome, either.”
“It’s not awesome. It’s just a shirt.”
He flipped it around, pointing at the Star Wars font. “ ‘May the Schwartz Be with You’? This is the motherfucking pterodactyl of T-shirts!”
I blinked. “So . . . that’s a good thing?”
Someone knocked on the door, and Trenton and I jumped. I wiped my eyes while Trenton peeked out the peephole. He turned to me, clearly confused.
“It’s . . . it’s Kody.”