27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Kyle told me to call when I got here. I should probably do that now, remind him to cancel his room reservation in case he didn’t already think of it. Of course, he might not even answer.

  It’s been hours. Is he still with Ava? Does he feel responsible for her care? Did he offer to let her stay with him until they figure out the mess with Chad?

  None of these thoughts improve my mood. I close the curtains and retrieve my phone from my purse. Even though I’ve called Kyle thousands of times in my life, I’m apprehensive when I push his name and wait for the call to connect.

  But it doesn’t connect—it goes straight to voicemail.

  “That’s weird,” I say to myself, but I figure he must be on the other line. I’ll give him a few minutes and then try to call back.

  Ten minutes later, the phone goes directly to his voicemail once more.

  Feeling slightly uneasy, I stash the cell in my back pocket and head into the hall, off to track down the conference center so I won’t have to deal with it tomorrow.

  * * *

  I have never seen so many flowers in my life.

  Booth after booth of growers line the walkways, and the smell is out of this world. Varieties of roses, lilies, and hundreds of other flowers are bunched together in massive vases as the vendors show off new varieties and their best of the best. The flowers will be judged tomorrow, and prizes will be announced at a formal dinner that I don’t plan on attending.

  Along with the cut flowers, there are potted plants and bouquets of greenery and filler. Everywhere I look, someone is showing off something new and improved—floral foam, containers, baskets, and tools.

  One booth has nothing but ribbon: sheer ribbon, wire ribbon, satin ribbon, ribbon made of burlap. They’re in every color, pattern, and design imaginable, and I pause, my eyes huge, as I take it in.

  Excitement buzzes in the air. There are representatives from over three hundred floral shops across the US attending, and thirty-seven scheduled guest speakers. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that I’m one of them.

  June’s presentation is on building your small business and serving the local community, and to my horror, I found out this morning she’s not in one of the intimate little rooms that hold twenty to thirty people. No. Her topic is scheduled for the main conference area, which can hold hundreds. Thankfully, she emailed her presentation a week ago, so all I have to do is hit a button to move to the next note, photograph, or video.

  It’s all in her notes. I’ll be fine.

  The event kicks off with a catered breakfast buffet and an opening speech by the president of the organization which is putting on the show. I plan to drown myself in coffee and hope the caffeine helps with my nerves. Knowing my luck, it will probably just make me a jittery mess.

  It doesn’t help that I still can’t reach Kyle. Last night, I figured he was busy with Ava. Now I’m a little worried something happened. It’s not like Kyle to let his phone go dead, at least not for this long. I finally left my own phone in my room just so I’d stop calling him. I was entering psycho-stalker territory.

  I find a seat near one of the four buffet areas and try to look invisible. Soon, my table fills up with fellow florists—ones who I’m sure have been in the industry far longer than I. There’s a woman with bright red hair and a hot pink scarf from Florida. Then two sisters from Michigan join us as well. Finally, a man who didn’t say where he was from rounds out our table. I didn’t catch their names.

  A server comes to the table carrying a shiny silver carafe. She sets it on the table and says, “Here’s some coffee. What else can I get you to drink?”

  I flip over the ceramic mug in front of my setting, waiting for my turn as we pass the carafe.

  The man from who-knows-where orders decaf, and one of the sisters asks for hot tea. I shake my head when our server asks if I need anything else and concentrate on my coffee, hoping this show will get on the road quickly.

  “Where are you from?” the woman with the scarf asks me as she stirs cream into her coffee.

  “A little town near Sedona, Arizona,” I tell her. “My boss couldn’t make it, so I came in her place.”

  “What an excellent opportunity for you,” one of the sisters—the coffee drinker—says.

  I twist my napkin in my lap and smile.

  “You look a little nervous.”

  “I have to give her presentation later.”

  Interested in the conversation for the first time, the man looks over. “Who’s your boss?”

  “June Cavalier.”

  “Oh, I know June!” the woman in the pink scarf exclaims, and then her face pinches with worry, probably because she just realized that something must have happened if I’m here in June’s place. “I hope everything is all right.”

  My heart aches for June and her granddaughter, and I stare at my cup so I don’t have to look the woman in the eye. “She had a family emergency and couldn’t make it.”

  Thankfully, a woman in a butter yellow suit walks up the steps that lead to the stage and announces the buffets are now open. We’re free to help ourselves, and then we must return to our seats so we can begin.

  The speech starts as I’m walking back to the table, saving me from any more conversation.

  “Best of luck with your presentation,” says the woman in the scarf, whose name I still don’t know, when we’re all finishing up and heading off to various workshops.

  I thank her and then leave the conference room and walk toward the lobby, looking for someone in charge. I find a man wearing the event staff’s red lanyard and ask him where I’ll find the director, a friend of June’s by the name of Denise. June said I’m supposed to meet with her.

  I find her ten minutes later, and the rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur. When three o’ clock rolls around, I’m almost prepared for this thing.

  “You’ll be fine,” Denise says with a smile as she pins a small microphone to my dress. She’s so chill about this whole thing. “It’s just like you practiced.”

  I’m beyond thankful that she found me a laptop and an empty room to practice the presentation.

  I give her a wry smile that’s shaky around the edges. “With just a few more people in attendance.”

  She grins and pauses to listen to something in her headset. “You’re up.”

  “Now?” Stage fright hits like a mountain lion pouncing on a bunny.

  Laughing, she nods. “Go on. Get out there.”

  “I’m just going to throw up real quick,” I joke. Sort of.

  She furrows her brow as she listens to the person talking in her ear. “Is he unstable? Okay, I’ll be right there.”

  Before she abandons me, she gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then literally shoves me toward the stage.

  Here goes nothing.

  34

  I call Kaylee again, but her phone just rings. I didn’t get checked into my room until the middle of the night. I was going to buy a charge cord from the gift shop as soon as I arrived, but it had closed hours before I even set foot in the hotel, so I had to wait until this morning.

  Now Kaylee’s not answering.

  As soon as my phone was charged enough to turn on, I found several texts and a few voice messages from her, so I know she made it all right. But why can’t I get a hold of her?

  “Listen, I’m sorry, but this is a closed event,” the man at the security kiosk says, losing his patience because it’s not exactly the first time he’s told me. “If you don’t have a ticket, I can’t let you in.”

  I step back, rubbing my hand over my face. I have to get in there—Kaylee needs to know that she’s more important to me than Ava. She needs to know I came.

  “Is there anyone you can call?” I ask him, internally acknowledging that the man is the size of a small redwood, and if I push him too far, he’ll crush me like a bug. “My girlfriend is supposed to make a presentation, and I have to be in there for it.”

  He stares at me with narro
wed eyes, the epitome of unimpressed.

  “I’ll try to call her again,” I say with a sigh, turning away. Why the heck does a floral conference need a guy the size of a dump truck heading up security anyway?

  Kaylee’s phone rings…and rings…

  I hit the end button with a little more force than necessary, and then I turn back to the man, prepared to beg.

  This time I must look especially pathetic because he rolls his eyes and then presses a button on his headphone. “I got a guy out here saying he needs in. Something about his girlfriend and a presentation, and I don’t know.” He pauses and then scans me. “Nah, I don’t think he’s a loon. What do you want me to do?”

  I wait, holding my breath.

  He looks back at me, finished with the conversation. “The director is on her way.”

  “Thank you,” I breathe and then look at the time on my phone.

  Kaylee’s presentation is supposed to start in three minutes.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he says, and then he turns to talk to a fellow security officer who just stepped up to his counter. From what I overhear, two of the venders apparently got in an argument about succulents, and it escalated into a knock-down, drag-out fight.

  I had no idea people got so passionate over potted plants.

  I wait for the director, idly listening to their conversation, watching the time. One minute passes, then two more. At five after three, I’m positive Kaylee’s already out there.

  I eye the security guards. They’re looking pretty preoccupied…

  No, I say to myself, pushing the thought away. I’m not the kind of guy who breaks into a flower conference.

  Another minute passes and still no director.

  You know what? Maybe I am that kind of guy.

  Casually, I make my way toward the counter, resisting the urge to whistle. I wait for them to notice me, to look my way.

  They don’t.

  I mosey into the event, the picture of innocence, checking out the flowers and pretending I give a rat’s tail about “This Year’s New Blush Tea Rose.”

  I think I’ve gotten away with it until I hear a loud, “HEY! GET BACK HERE!”

  So I do what any rational man would do…I sprint forward, darting into the mess of flower vendors. Several people gasp, but it doesn’t take me long to disappear. I throw off my jacket, heaving it behind a trashcan, hoping the change in clothing will help me hide from the Incredible Security Hulk and his Team of Flower Defenders.

  How the heck am I supposed to find Kaylee? This place is madness.

  I stop next to a woman at a booth containing more ribbon than I’ve seen in my entire life. “Where are the presentations?”

  She gives me a funny look. “Which one?”

  There’s more than one?

  I’m in trouble.

  “Uh, June Cavalier was supposed to give it. Something about community?”

  She nods and pulls out a piece of paper that blessedly looks like an event schedule. “Small Business and Community?”

  “Yes,” I say urgently, looking over my shoulder to make sure I haven’t been located.

  “Main conference room.” She points to a set of double doors just across the open lobby. “It started about ten minutes ago.”

  I’ll be a sitting duck. Oh well—here goes nothing.

  I’m about to make a run for it, but I have an idea. “Can I buy your hat?”

  The woman blinks. “I’m sorry?”

  I nod to her baseball cap. It’s embroidered with her company name, and it’s pink. But beggars can’t be choosers.

  “Well, it’s not really for sale…”

  I slap a fifty on the counter. “Please?”

  “I have another.” She pulls one from a box under her table. It’s still wrapped in plastic, but it’s just as pink as hers. As she hands it to me, she shoves the money back in my hand. “Just take it.”

  “Thank you,” I say, swearing I’ll put in a good word for her with June.

  She laughs as I rip the hat out of the plastic, shove it on my head, and stroll through the very center of the lobby, praying the security team doesn’t spot me.

  35

  I walk onto the stage and nearly walk right back off it. The tables are still set up from this morning’s breakfast, and the room is about half full.

  The large area is lightly dimmed, but it’s not so dark I can’t see all the faces out there staring at me. Stage lights shine in my eyes, and my palms begin to sweat.

  “Hi there,” I say, giving my audience a small wave. “My name is Kaylee Cameron. I’m here this afternoon on behalf of my boss, June Cavalier. Sadly, she was not able to make it today.”

  A lump forms in my throat, but I fight it back. I clear my throat, and then my brain goes completely blank. Denise said I need to introduce myself, make a little bit of small talk. But now I can’t remember what I was going to say.

  “Uh…” So many people. “I’ll get started then.”

  I step up to the podium and set June’s presentation in front of me. One of the pages slips. It flutters to the floor, leaving me to bend over and pick it up. In the process, I drop the small remote that allows me to run the presentation. It rolls to the end of the stage and falls onto the floor. A nice fellow toward the front rescues it for me and gives me a pitying smile when he hands it back.

  My cheeks flame, and there’s a real chance I’m going to burst into tears.

  The back doors open, and a man walks in. I can barely make him out, but for one split second, I think it’s Kyle. My heart gives a hopeful thump, and then I sternly remind myself he’s back home. Probably with Ava.

  “Okay, right.” I force a smile. The room is dead silent. If only they’d chatter a little bit, this might be easier. But nope. I have their full attention. “June’s presentation is about small business and community…which I guess you already know. Because you’re here.”

  I’m dying up here.

  All the crashing. All the burning.

  “I’m going to read her presentation now…”

  Suddenly, the back doors fly open, and half a dozen men in the event’s bright yellow security shirts come charging in like the cavalry.

  “THERE!” one of them yells, pointing toward the man who just walked into the room.

  I squint to get a better look and gasp when I realize it’s not a man who resembles Kyle—it is Kyle.

  “Kyle?” I say out loud, forgetting I have a mic on. His name echoes through the room, and I wince.

  The security guards surround him, and I cover my mouth to keep from crying out, hoping they don’t tackle him to the ground.

  He doesn’t fight them, but they grab him by the arms and escort him toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he looks back at me. Our eyes meet, and he grins—as though being hauled out with a security escort is the highlight of his day.

  I watch him go, my mouth hanging open. Like the rest of the room, I stare at the doors as they slowly swing closed once more.

  Eventually, the crowd settles down, and they turn to me, looking expectant.

  I try not to laugh, but the whole thing is too absurd. “That, uh, is my boyfriend. He’s not as crazy as he looks.”

  My audience thankfully laughs, and suddenly, I think I can do this thing.

  Kyle came all this way for me. He even broke into a floral conference—if that doesn’t show devotion, I don’t know what does.

  I take a deep breath and begin my speech.

  * * *

  An hour later, I find Kyle sitting on a park bench across from the hotel. He watches me cross the street with a small smile on his face. A pink baseball cap lies next to him. It looks vaguely familiar, but I have no idea why.

  The day is cold, and there’s a breeze that must come straight from the Arctic. Or, you know, the ice-capped Rockies. I barely notice it, though. All my attention is on the man waiting for me.

  My heart begins to beat faster, and my entire body warms under his intent gaze.


  “You broke into a flower conference,” I say when I reach him.

  He stands to greet me. “I did.”

  “You ran from security.”

  He gives me a solemn nod. “I did that too.”

  “I assume you were removed from the hotel?”

  Kyle grins. “And asked not to return.”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

  “I missed our flight yesterday by only minutes because I got caught in construction. The next flight wasn’t until after midnight, and my phone died because I forgot to bring a charger with me—it must have slipped my mind when I unceremoniously dropped off Ava on your brother’s doorstep. I arrived at the hotel after two in the morning, and when I was finally able to buy a cord and charge my phone, you didn’t answer. For a solid hour, I begged the security guard to let me in.” His smile grows. “I think you know the rest.”

  “Why?” I step so close; I have to crane my neck up to look at him.

  He leans down, meeting me at eye level. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the cold air, and his eyes are exceptionally bright. “Because I love you.”

  I grasp his shoulder and yank him closer. “Good answer.”

  “Not exactly the reply I was hoping for.”

  Smiling, I press a kiss to his lips. “I love you too.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner.” His tone loses its playful quality, and he loops his arms around my back and pulls me into a hug. “I swear, I tried.”

  “I believe you,” I say against his soft T-shirt.

  He’s got to be freezing. It’s not exactly a warm spring day.

  “Why don’t you have a jacket?” I ask.

  He loosens his grip on me just enough to lean down and kiss me. Then he says, “I tossed it behind a trash can when I was trying to lose the security guards.”

  I stare up at him for several moments, and then I laugh. “You’re crazy.”

  Kyle shrugs and loops an arm around my shoulder. “Think of it this way—it will be a great story to tell our grandkids.”