It’s a nice, unexpected gesture. I mean, some of my exes tried giving flowers to Mom to suck up to my parents. But the treat for Nijinsky? That’s a first. And it makes the gesture even more genuine and lovely.
I start to type a response to Curie, but the arrival of calla lilies at my desk interrupts me. The blossoms are large and gorgeous, the fragrance strong and delightful.
Pleasure unfurls. There’s part of me that says I should be annoyed that Court is ignoring my no-dating-until-promotion rule, but somehow I can’t muster the energy. The flowers are just too pretty, and I’ve never gotten anything like them at work.
“Hot damn.” Megumi pushes her nose into one of the blossoms. “What did Tom do?”
“Ha.” Tom bought me flowers once, from the closest grocery store to my apartment because he forgot my birthday. “Tom and I are history. Been that way for a while now.”
“Then who?”
I pluck the card before she can. It merely reads: Court.
Most men would add something to focus on the fact that they sent the flowers. But not him. Confidence much?
The self-assurance makes me a little hot.
“Who is it?” Megumi demands.
“Somebody I met.” I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel and stick the card in my purse, and then my purse into the bottom drawer, which I lock again. I don’t trust someone as nosy as Megumi not to read it otherwise. Megumi is a surprising mix of discretion and gossip. The problem is that I never know which way she’s going to go.
My phone buzzes. It’s Curie again.
What stories are you coming up with to cover it up? You know you can’t keep a secret from me for long, don’t you?
Of course not. I wouldn’t even think to try. Besides, Curie definitely deserves some explanation, because she is not only my twin, but an unintended victim of my one-night stand with Court. I still feel terrible about that, even though she told me it was no big deal before leaving for the honeymoon. But first, time to set her straight about this “your man” stuff.
Dad invited him over. Mom cooked pot roast. He loved it, and she packed him some to tak
e home. He’s just thanking her for that. It’s nothing serious.
The calla lilies on my desk chant, “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” in what I imagine to be an angelic choir of tiny flower voices.
It’s totally serious. Joe didn’t send flowers to Mom until he knew he wanted her to be his mother-in-law.
Shock twists in my throat until I can’t breathe. Court is NOT trying to propose to me, if that’s what you’re saying. Marriage has made you crazy.
Mark my words. Whatever the history between the two of you, Dad’s going to approve of him because he’s making all the right moves. You know Dad wants you to settle down, too.
He just wants grandkids, I text back quickly. It’s so like Curie to think everyone wants love and family and all that because she wants those too. Besides, it’s Curie Dad wanted to see settled down, not me. He knows about my career ambitions—to make a name for myself and more.
Bet he does, but if he approves of Court, it won’t matter about the no-relationship rule. He owns SFG. He can override it, if such a thing really exists.
The skepticism is so palpable that even I’m starting to doubt my own conclusion. That’s Curie’s superpower—making people see things her way. She probably wins all her fights with Joe, too.
We’ll see, I text. Trying to argue with a supervillain is useless.
I put away my phone, then stare at the flowers. There’s no place to hide them, and no way I can throw them away.
Pretend they aren’t here. Then take them home. If anybody asks, I’ll say they’re from a friend I did a favor for. And later today, I’ll text Court and ask him not to send anything else to work.
My mind made up, I set the vase just so on my desk and spend the next few hours wrapping up calculations for the projection I’ve been working on.
Dad stops by my desk.
“Got any plans?” he asks. “If not, why don’t we have lunch?”
I look up him and blink a few times. In all my years working at the firm, he’s never asked me to lunch. Is this about the promotion? Or the idea I proposed last week? Maybe he mulled it over and decided it has some merit.