I send her flowers.
Searching through the website, I find exactly what I’m looking for. The largest bouquet of hydrangeas and pale pink roses.
I fill out everything, leaving the card short and simple.
I’m sorry. Can we start over?
No signature. I don’t need anyone in the office to know who sent them. Only Raven.
They’ll be delivered after lunch today, and hopefully, she’ll know I didn’t mean to make things uncomfortable. She’ll see that I’m not a bad guy. That I want her to stay.
At least I hope so.
* * *
My door flies open,catching me off guard.
A livid Raven storms in, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Mister? What were you thinking?” she practically screeches.
I’m not sure what she’s talking about, and she must realize it because her eyes narrow.
“Ugh. Why do you think I’d storm in here? The insanely large floral arrangement you sent me a clue?”
My head tilts to the side, wondering why flowers would cause this reaction. It’s completely opposite of what I was aiming for.
“Are they ugly? They didn’t look ugly on the website. Why don’t you like them?”
“My God, you are obtuse. It’s not the actual flowers, Charles. You sent them to the office where everyone can see them. It’s completely humiliating.”
Every time she says my name, another piece of my resolve snaps. It does things to me I don’t even understand.
A lazy smile spreads across my face. “Getting flowers is humiliating?”
“When they’re from you,” she snaps. “What if someone found out? What would they say?”
I scoff. “I don’t give a damn what anyone says. I owe you an apology. It’s nobody’s bloody business.”
Her arms cross over her chest, and my eyes roam over her.
I grin, standing from behind my desk and walking toward her.
For every step forward I take, she takes a step back.
“I didn’t sign my name to the card. Nobody will know they’re from me,” I insist.
“That’s not the point, Charles. We said we’d forget about it. This isn’t forgetting.” She sounds tired, and I hope my actions aren’t the cause.
Of course they are, dickhead.
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
Her eyes close. “It’s completely obvious I didn’t sleep. Why are you asking questions you know the answer to?”
“I didn’t either,” I admit, and her eyes crack open.
“You didn’t?” she says, peering up at me with wide cornflower eyes.