“Sounds good to me.”
Dash signals for a waiter just as a different one approaches with a long white box. He places it on the table beside me and I can’t fight the huge grin that takes over my face. I whisper to Dash to tip him and he opens his wallet while I converge on the box as the man begins to fill my glass with red wine.
The box, lined in a silky white, contains a single rose and a card. To my surprise, the rose is black and the card has the number one scrawled on the front of it.
I flip it open and read “Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.”
When I glance up at him, Dash is leaning across the table, trying his hardest to catch a glimpse of the card. That’s when I realize something’s off. I snap it shut and shove it back in the box. As much as I want to pull out the rose, I stop myself.
“What does it say?”
It’s one of my favorite quotes, from one of my favorite books. “Uh, nothing really.” I could be wrong, but I can’t imagine Dash has ever read Anna Karenina. If he has, he’s never mentioned it. It’s also not his handwriting.
“Black sure is a shitty color for a rose. You should tell Maya to rethink that. The whole complimentary flower is nice. But black?” He laughs. “Sometimes I swear she tries too hard to be chic.”
“You know Maya.” And so do I. She’s never said anything about complimentary flowers at The L. And based on the looks I’m getting from the lady next to us, it seems I’m the only one who’s been complimented tonight.
I set the box on the floor and push it under the table with my foot. “About that dessert.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Luke
I spent the entire day cursing myself and Maya for talking me into this scheme to get Coco to dump Dash. The way I see it, if Coco won’t listen to reason, why’s she going to listen to a rose and a piece of paper? A big part of me feels like I’m betraying her too. And it’s probably because I am. The night of the kiss, I told her I’d be honest with her—just tell her like it is.
But then I kissed her and turned everything to shit.
Even though we talked it out, we haven’t talked since. And I’m afraid if I leave it any longer she’ll end up with Dash for good. I personally think Sheila’s idea to set up a date for them at The L was stupid. Why should Dash get a kick out of showboating for her? Making her think he actually took the time?
And the roses and poems? If I’m being completely honest, the whole idea has ‘failure’ written all over it. It’s incredibly cheesy and I’m almost certain she’ll immediately connect it all back to me. Okay so it’s not an entirely terrible idea. At least I got to choose the flower myself and I did read the book in college. I didn’t hate it, but the whole plan is pretty sappy and I’m beginning to wish I’d just gone over there and laid it all on the line like a normal person. Instead of asking for Ross’s opinion and ending up with the whole damn world’s help.
But I care enough about her to go along with it. If this is what the people closest to her right now think will make her wake up and see the light, then I’ll do it. I’ll be the secret admirer, even though I’m not sure I want any of this to be much of a secret anymore.
I must have peeked out the window a hundred times before I hear the car pull up. They sit inside for several minutes and when a car door shuts, I get up from my spot on the sofa and casually glance out the window. The moment I do, I wish I’d waited a few more minutes.
Dash’s arms are locked around her waist, hers looped around his neck and it seems like they don’t plan on coming up for air anytime soon. His open palms roam to her ass and when he squeezes, I let the curtain fall.
I walk back over to the couch, shaking my head.
So much for roses and poems changing her mind. Why would they? Especially if she assumes they’re from him. This secret admirer thing is stupid. It’ll never work. But when I hear the car door shut again, I rush to the window like the pathetic voyeur I’ve become. Dash has climbed back into his Navigator, a disappointed scowl evident on his face. And Coco? She stands on the stoop, holding my rose in one hand and the card in the other. She opens it stares, down at it for a second before smiling to herself.
A smile I share because, for the first time, I feel like things in my life are going exactly as planned.
Hours later, I pull my blanket from over my head and stare up at the dark ceiling. I haven’t been able to fall asleep for hours. My head is spinning. And the tightness in my chest has returned, stomping any fuzzy feelings I had earlier on tonight into dust.
What if I do convince Coco she can do better? What if by some miraculous turn of events, I actually get what I want for once? What if shit does stop raining down on me? Then what? How do I start all over again—just like that? How do I break the promise I made to Shannon all those years ago? Before I lost her. And after.
If I give into the feelings that have been creeping in over the past few weeks, what does that make me? Do I even have the right to have something that good in my life after all the misery I’ve caused?
Everyone else seems to think so. And even though my heart’s already bought two one way tickets, my head just can’t seem to get on board. Having a happily ever after, after all the tragedy not only seems like some kind of selfish prize I’m claiming but the kind of reward I don’t really deserve. And as has been the trend with my life lately, I deprive myself of recompense—no matter how badly I want it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Coco
Seattle is the last place I want to be—at least with Dash. If I was headed to the city on my own, I’d be all for it. But going to some kind of music thing with him has trouble written all over it. It always does. There’s a reason he doesn’t usually invite me along—I never have any fun, especially when he spends most of the time fending off girls and kissing music exec ass. But I don’t trust myself to spend the weekend alone either. I’ll be lonely, sad and I know exactly where I’ll end up. And after the last time, I need to avoid that back yard as much as possible.
I’ve just shoved the last of my clothes into my suitcase and zipped it up, when the phone rings. Probably Dash.
I scoop it up from my bedside table. “Hello?”
“May I speak with Cocanda Rose?”
“This is Cocanda.”
“Good morning, Miss Rose. I’m calling from Doctor Schumacher’s office regarding the HSG Test you had last week.”
My body flashes hot and I lower myself onto the edge of the bed. “Yes.”
“We have your results and Doctor Schumacher would like you to come in at your earliest convenience.”
I swallow hard. “Um, okay.”
“We have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon if you’re available.”
“I was supposed to go out of town. Is…is it serious?”
“The doctor would rather discuss the results in person. If you can’t make an appointment tomorrow afternoon, perhaps Thursday at nine?”
“Uh, no. I can make it tomorrow. I’ll be there. What time?”
“One-thirty.”
“Okay,” I reply, clutching my stomach. “Thank you.”
I hang up the phone my entire body numb. Then immediately pick it up again to call Dash.
I already know it’s serious and I’m beginning to wish Doctor Schumacher had just told me over the phone. I don’t want to see her face-to-face when she says the words. I need to be in denial for just a little bit longer. I fight threatening tears, swallowing the lump back in my sticky throat so hard my head hurts.
I’m here by myself, which doesn’t seem right. Doesn’t seem fair. It’s a mess we both got into and he can’t even bother to come support me.
Some stupid party in Seattle is more important. I shouldn’t be surprised. In times like these, I should never, ever be surprised. But for some reason, Dash shocks me with his indifference every time. I didn’t go into details, just told him I had a test at the hospital and that I didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t
expect him to ask me to call Sheila. And when I told him she couldn’t just drop her life to coming running, he asked why I expected him to.
Why indeed?
Doctor Schumacher knocks lightly on the door, then walks slowly into the room, offering me a light smile as she settles in behind her desk. She opens my file and spreads it out in front of her. After sitting quietly for several long moments, she clasps her hands together in front of her and leans forward.
“Are you okay?” she asks in a soothing voice.
Shit. I nod, glancing at the open file folder. She follows my gaze, then offers me another soft smile.
“What does it say?” I ask.
She clears her throat. “There is some light scaring on your fallopian tubes. It’s something you need to consider for the future.”
“In case I want to have kids.”
She nods. “You’re completely clear of the infection now, but it can come back, if you’re not careful. So make sure your boyfriend’s been treated and, as long as you’ve taken all the antibiotics I’ve given you, you’ll be fine.”
I nod again, unable to speak.
“Try not to worry too much. This doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant. It just means it may make things a little harder.”
“How?” I manage to croak.
“Tube blockage, an ectopic pregnancy. But I don’t want you to worry. I’m just covering all the bases here. Nothing is set in stone. Do you understand that?”
I bob my head, the tears I’ve tried so hard to fight rolling down my cheeks in waves. “I didn’t know,” I whisper. “I thought I was being smart. We we’re serious. I’m on the pill.” I laugh bitterly at that last part and tentatively wipe my tears.
Doctor Schumacher gets up from behind the desk and lowers herself on the edge of it just in front of me. She places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Cocanda. It’s just a hurdle. Not a cell. I’m sure once the two of you talk it over, you’ll figure something out.”
The tears come harder and faster now. This isn’t something I can imagine discussing with Dash in a million years. He knew what the risks were. He knew what I was up against and he didn’t even bother coming to support me. He ran off to Seattle in search of his own satisfaction.
My stomach hurts and my nose is running like a faucet.
“Is your boyfriend coming to pick you up?”
“No,” I wail.
“Is there anyone you can call?”
I shrug and she pushes the phone in front of me. Patting me on the shoulder, she says, “I’ll give you some privacy. Take all the time you need.”
The key pad is nothing but a blur as I dial out the only number I can think of. And as I listen to it ring, I realize I’d prefer the simplicity and comfort of a back yard rendezvous over this level of drama any day.
Spending the last two nights on my best friend’s couch was exactly what I needed. I’m positive Dash has been trying like crazy to get a hold of me, but at this point, I don’t care. I pull into the driveway and rest my forehead on the steering wheel. Squeezing out a few more tears before I gather up the nerve to step back out into the world.
Being at Sheila’s made me feel better, helped me stop thinking about my bad luck. But the second I left, it all came crashing down on me. Now I’m just happy to be home. Dying for a nice warm bath and the comfort of my bed. And craving the company of someone I’ve vowed to keep my distance from.
I sneak a glance across the way, but the entire house is in darkness. Not exactly normal for an evening at the Black house, but probably for the best where I’m concerned. The way I’m feeling about Dash right now, I might do something I can’t take back.
I shuffle in through the porch and make my way upstairs. The bath isn’t nearly as comforting as I want it to be, especially when my stomach starts growling and I remember I haven’t been able to keep anything down all weekend. Wrapped in a fluffy robe, despite the warm June night, I slug into the kitchen with big plans for brownies and hot chocolate—both smothered in whip cream. Chocolate’s the only kind of comfort food I know and after a weekend like this I can use all I can get.
I walk past the phone, scowling down at it and that’s when I notice it isn’t even blinking. No messages. For two whole days. Everything around me suddenly feels like it’s spinning, I shiver pulling my robe tight as my body goes numb.
Tears I thought were completely dried up are suddenly threatening again, until I catch a glimpse of something on the back door. It’s a note of some sort—taped to the window from the outside. I slowly make my way over to the door squinting at the tiny block letters.
Open me and look down.
I frown, biting on the corner of my bottom lip as I reach out to open the door. Wedged between the doors is a rectangular white box. Resting it on the kitchen table, I pry off the lid, my mouth dropping open when I see what’s inside.
Three more roses. All black with an envelope resting on top of them. My mouth is suddenly dry and I wonder if I should just leave the thing alone and call my brother. It’s one thing to receive a random rose while having dinner with your boyfriend. It’s quite another to receive three more black roses wedged in your backdoor when you’re home all alone.
I drop the lid and scurry to retrieve the phone.
“How do you know if you have a stalker?” I ask the second Cole picks up.
He laughs, chewing something loudly in my ear. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about stalkers. People who leave you random gifts. Always seem to know where you are. You’re a cop, tell me, how would I know?”
“Well, I guess they’d be leaving you random gifts and they’d always seem to know where you are.”
“Cole, I’m serious. Something weird’s going on. I got a rose with a note when I was having dinner with Dash the other day at The L—”
“Black roses,” he cuts in then sputters. “Clever. Maybe it’s sign. Don’t black roses mean death or something?”
“Would you just shut up for a minute and listen.” I run my fingers through my hair. I know he’s not exactly a Dash fan, but the little jabs are starting to get old. “Wait,” I say. “I didn’t tell you the rose was black.”
He clears his throat and there’s a long pause before he says, “People talk, sis. It’s Lewiston.”
“You mean Maya talks.” Or one of her employees anyway.
“Whatever. You were saying?”
“Well, I didn’t know what to think of it. At first I thought it was from Dash, but he clearly didn’t know anything about it—”
“Why would he?”
“Cole.”
“Sorry.”
“So then I thought maybe it was a complimentary rose, but I get back from being away for two days and there’s this box of roses at the back door. With a note. I didn’t tell anyone I was going away, Cole. And these roses are fresh, like they were just put there.”
I practically hear him roll his eyes and I know exactly what’s coming next.
“Don’t be so dramatic. What did the note say? Was it something threatening?”
“I haven’t looked at the note yet, but the first one was a quote from Anna Karenina.”
“Who?”
“Never mind. No, it wasn’t threatening.”
“Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Sounds like a secret admirer to me. Just…go with it.”
I want to argue, but I’m not even sure what I should say. It’s not like my brother to take something like this so lightly. The Cole I know would come over and investigate himself. But then again, they are just roses. It’s not like it’s a box of worms or dirt or something worse.
“Okay.”
“Besides,” he adds with a teasing lilt. “Why would anyone be stalking you?”
I hang up the phone to his laughter and make my way back over to the box. Gingerly removing the lid again, I pick up the envelope and turn it over. It’s blank.
I tear it open and out falls th
ree little cards, numbered from two to four, with the same writing as the one I received at the restaurant.
On the back side of each are three more quotes.
#2: “You’re braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” ~A.A .Milne
#3:“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.” ~James Baldwin
#4: “Never love anyone who treats you like you're ordinary.” ~Oscar Wilde
I stare at the cards a little longer, reading them over and over. Then, as if on instinct, I glance through the kitchen window at the house across the way. But I quickly shake my head, squashing the idea before I have time to dwell on it.
It was a simple kiss between two vulnerable people. It didn’t mean anything. And it definitely doesn’t mean this. Maybe this is Dash after all. He’s the one who made an effort to take me to The L the other night. He may not have acknowledged giving me the first rose, but maybe he was just embarrassed or trying to surprise me with something.
It makes sense. A lot more sense than random black roses from my neighbor. Besides, if Luke Black has something to say, he just comes out and says it. Sending a rose just doesn’t seem like him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Luke
I’d been prepared to watch her open the box. Ready to witness her take three more steps further away from Dash Martin. Even if I can’t give her what she deserves, she still deserves better and I’m determined to follow through with this plan, wherever it’ll take us.
What I wasn’t prepared for was a call from Rowan Chambers. When Ross came busting through the back porch, panting like he’d just won a marathon, I braced myself for the worst kind of news. These days, it’s what I do. Every phone call, every knock at the door, I’m positive it’s about Mom. That someone’s about to rip the rug out from beneath me so fast and so hard that I’ll never be able to get back up.
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