“So, go get her!” Tanner shoots me a stop-fucking-around look. “Seriously. Go get the girl some flowers, maybe some jewelry since you fucked up so bad. Turn on the charm and do the best groveling of your life.”
“That’s your big advice?” I demand. “Grovel?”
“Hey, it’s good advice in any number of situations. Including this one,” he says with a shrug. “And while you’re at it tell her why you do all that stupid shit you do. It won’t make it okay, but it’ll help her understand. Then promise her you won’t do it anymore.” He switches arms and continues with the biceps curls while I reach for my phone.
“I don’t know if I can promise her that.”
He just looks at me, face more serious than I’ve ever seen it.
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “I don’t know if I can just walk away from the diving and the climbing and all the rest.”
“Are you ready to walk away from her?”
“No! Fuck, no.”
“Then I think you’d better get your head out of your ass and figure out what you want more. The adrenaline rush or your woman. Because something tells me you can’t have both. And if you chose the adrenaline rush, you better count on the fact that she’s gone for good. And for what?” His voice starts to break and he stops, clears his throat. Turns it into a cough. “Trust me, man. You don’t want that.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Just like I know he knows better than most what it means to lose the woman you love. And still the idea of never climbing another mountain, of never feeling that moment of closeness with my mom and sister, leaves me feeling shaky. Nowhere as shaky as how I feel when I try to imagine my life without Sage in it, though. So I guess that’s the only answer I need.
“What kind of flowers should I get her?” I ask as I pull up a floral delivery site.
“Big ones.”
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
“Dude. Don’t use one of those sites.” He looks at me like I’m a moron. “Go to a florist and buy the woman the biggest fucking bouquet she’s ever seen and hand deliver the damn things. With some earrings. Women love earrings.”
“Earrings?”
He nods decisively. “Earrings.”
“Okay. Earrings it is.”
Something tells me winning Sage back—if I succeed—is going to be the biggest adrenaline rush of my life. Then again, maybe that’s the point.
Go big or go home, I always say.
* * *
—
Three hours later I’m standing outside of Sage’s place, with what might be the largest bouquet of flowers I’ve ever seen, in hands that are shaking a little too much for my own comfort. Diamond earrings are in my pocket along with another box that it’s probably too soon for. But the minute I saw it, I knew I wanted it for her. I just hope I’ll get the chance to give it to her, if not today then some time soon.
I lift a hand to knock, but it’s shaking so bad I lower it again. Sweat is rolling down my back and I’m pretty sure I’m about ten seconds away from hyperventilating. Jesus. I should have known she was trouble the first time I laid eyes on her in that bar, when she refused to make the move.
If I’d known when I sent over that tray of drinks that I’d end up standing at her door, a sweaty, shaking mess…hell, I probably would have done it anyway. Because being with Sage is so worth all the BS that comes with it.
The thought steadies me like nothing else could, and this time when I raise my hand to knock, it isn’t trembling at all. Except I never get the chance, because the door flies open before my knuckles meet the wood.
Sage is standing there, wearing jeans, a flowy blouse and a look of abject surprise. It looks good on her. Then again, in my opinion, everything does.
“Shawn.” Her voice comes out high and a little squeaky. “What are you doing here?”
I look from her to the flowers then back again, because isn’t it pretty obvious? “I wanted to see you. To apologize.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. I was an idiot and I scared you and I’m sorry about that. I really am.” I hold the flowers