“What’s up?” I rolled out on my bed, putting my phone on speaker. I yawned as I rubbed the water from my eyes. I’m getting old, that has to be why I wake up so sore.
“I can’t make it to meet the florist at noon. Help me out, please?”
He sounded like he was driving, speeding too. I didn’t want him getting into an accident or something.
“Sure man, don’t sweat it.”
“Thanks, I’ll send you the address.” He hung up.
I groaned and tried to get a few more minutes of sleep, but then I read his message and found out the meeting was across town at noon, I had to get up.
“Fuck, me.”
Chapter Thirteen: Emilia
I decided to call Ivy and tell her the good news.
“Hey, are you busy?” I asked her.
“Nope, just sorting the boss’s emails.” She groaned. That is arguably her least favorite part of the job, the clerical stuff.
“I just got another client. A wedding.”
“Oh yay, I love weddings!” She squealed. It made me laugh because I know she only likes them because I bring her. She finally got to break her dry spell at the last one.
“I know you do. Anyway, I’m meeting him tomorrow at the shop. I just wanted to tell you so I could make it official.” I laughed.
“Aw, well I’m happy for you. See, something good did come out of that ball.” Yeah, and into me too.
“Yeah, that’s true.”
We talked for a little bit before we both had to turn in.
The next morning, I went for my run and then showered after my coffee for breakfast. My stomach still got knots when I meet with new clients. I dressed in slacks and a silk, purple blouse. I pinned my hair up and put on some lipstick, I wanted to look presentable for the first meeting. Usually, they see me in my flower clothes which are just jeans and a ratty old tee.
I headed to the shop and got there around noon. I usually opened up about one anyway. When I rounded the corner, I nearly tripled in my heels.
I did a double take, even rubbed my eyes and checked to see if I had five fingers and not six before I accepted it. The man from the party was standing outside the shop. He was very concentrated on what was on his phone screen, but it was him. Dashing as ever in his jeans, crisp, linen white shirt, and a messy array of dark blonde hair falling over his forehead.
I felt my heart in my throat, and my chest in my stomach. Or the other way around. I didn’t know what was even going on at all. I couldn’t believe it. The feelings of that night came flooding back to me, and he was so attractive I felt it all over again. The heat creeping up my neck, the clench of my thighs and belly. My fingers were clammy, but it all went away when I put the pieces together.
It was him. He was the groom. He was getting married. Why else would he be at my shop? I never imagined his name being Levi, but I knew it was him who emailed me. Him who was getting married and wants to make his fiancé happy. One month wasn’t long enough to fall in love and get married, he must have been engaged that night. Bile rose in my throat in disgust.
Everything I thought of him, the fantasy I built up just came crashing down. I stepped back around the corner, leaning on the wall as I tried to catch my breath. I almost felt sick. Perhaps because I was both devastated and confused, mostly hurt at the truth. When I felt the wetness in my eyes I mentally cursed him for even making me feel this way.
But it was disappointing to think that everything I thought is a lie. Maybe I built him up in my head, but that night wasn’t a lie. He seemed very kind, more down to earth than anyone in that room. He felt good, too. I realized I was mostly disappointed he was taken, but was fine with it if he is the type to cheat on his fiancé.
Before I knew it, I was walking away. I should not be unprofessional, but I just couldn’t do it. My emotions would overcome me and then I would have a bad reputation if I treated him badly, or didn’t do a good job. I almost wished I hadn’t replied to the email because then it would seem I just never got it. But I did.
He would know I ignored him. And didn’t come. He couldn’t know it was me from the party, could he? I know I never told him, but there is a possibility he does.
Either way,
I was definitely never seeing him again.
Chapter Fourteen: Tristan
I grumbled, heading straight to the bathroom. I thought the hustle of the morning would make me forget about my ritualistic day dream of that woman, but it didn’t. When I was out of the shower, her face ran through my head. I imagined her in my bathroom, washing her face in the vanity, or brushing her teeth as I watched her tits bounce in the mirror.