by J.M. Cagle
Chapter Seven:
In the days that followed the party, Elle had been coming home to every space in her tiny two bedroom apartment filled with flowers and balloons. It was starting to become a little absurd how much like a florist shop her apartment was becoming. It was sweet on the first day, a few bouquets of breathtaking roses and daisies, and a note from Luke which included her ID, a heartfelt apology for if it had been something that he had said or done that sent her fleeing from the room, and the chance to get back the purse if she agreed to meet with him at noon, on the 26th floor, the next day. She ignored the card and its demands. But the flowers kept coming, each day with a new note, but the same request. Some days, the note would tell her a little more about who Luke Charmant really was, how he has a scar on his thumb from where he’d touched the stove when he was young, just to see if it was truly hot. Or the note might tell her how much he was thinking about her and how he wished she would consent to seeing him again. New kinds of flowers arrived every day, and finally with the arrival of the tulips, which were her favorite flower, and a note about how he was stubborn and didn’t know what giving up meant, she broke down and decided to see him the next day.
If only to get Claire off her back, with her knowing looks and raised brows, Elle had decided. Though Claire herself had been the recipient of some secret roses and jewelry, so that when Elle rose an eyebrow in question, she disappeared into her room with a huff and a blush on her cheeks. She was curious, but Elle was also afraid that if she asked Claire what had happened to her at the party, it would open up the flood gate of questions that she would in turn also be obliged to answer; not wanting to share quite yet, she happily continued to keep her mouth shut. But as the flowers began pouring in day after day, Elle knew that Claire had pretty much figured out what had transpired between her and Luke, whom she must have seen clearly staring at them from the elevator as they pulled away.
Nonetheless, Elle still asked Claire if she would help her get ready the next morning, and Claire smiled her Cheshire grin and happily agreed, dropping hints the rest of the day about happily ever after and true love. With a roll of her eyes, Elle said nothing, letting her continue to prattle on.
The next morning, once her make-up was done, the anxiety began to settle in, and as she climbed into The Pumpkin to drive to the publishing house, she was sorely tempted, many a time, to turn back around and to forget the whole thing. But then she would remember Luke’s smile, and the wonderful things he had shared with her in his notes attached to the flowers he sent, and she realized how much she truly wanted to see him again. She had been battling her heart these last few days. She was so scared to put herself out there, especially after what had transpired between them at the party. But she wanted to try, as she didn’t want to feel broken anymore, and she wanted to feel like she’d felt being in Luke’s arms, and how she’d felt when he kissed her, which was loved and cherished. It had been over a year since she had had her heart broken, and she hadn’t realized until these last few days how much she desperately wanted it to be healed.
As she pulled The Pumpkin into the parking spot in the garage and slowly made her way to the elevators, she bit her lip as she pressed the button for the 26th floor. She wanted to take the plunge, and a man who could write so many notes and send dozens of flowers, each day, all the while waiting for her every afternoon in the hopes that she might arrive... even she had to admit that it spoke to her heart. So as the elevator moved, she found herself less anxious and more excited to lay her eyes once more on his face.