“She bought that?” I huffed out a laugh.
“She bought it. ” He grinned mischievously.
“You’re good, Fred. Thank you. Here’s the next one. ” I handed him a manila envelope as he entered the waiting elevator.
This was the next-to-last gift I had, the gag about eye-rolling and all the ways in which it was bad for you. There was only one more small box to go before I stood outside of her apartment door and hoped she’d open it. I looked down at my Mets jersey and ran my hands over it, making sure I looked presentable.
“She’s crying,” Fred said, the moment he exited the elevator.
“Shit,” I exclaimed as my heart fell into the pit of my stomach.
“She said they were good tears, though, so I think you’re in the clear,” he added, patting my shoulder.
I looked up at the ceiling and swallowed hard. “Whew. OK. This is the last one, Fred, but I have to come up with you. Is there anywhere for me to wait without her seeing me while you deliver this last package?”
“You can wait in the hallway, around the corner. She won’t see you there,” he suggested.
“Sounds good. You ready to see if I get my heart back?” I asked, clutching a dozen red roses.
“I have a good feeling,” he said, glancing at the flowers.
We stepped out of the elevator together and into the illuminated hallway. Fred pointed at the door marked #323, and I nodded, hurrying around the opposite corner. The knock on the door was soft, but the sound carried. I heard Cassie tease Fred about how she should just leave her door open all night.
Fred informed her that this would be the last package. Was that disappointment I heard in her voice as she thanked him? Her door closed softly, and Fred cleared his throat. I peered around the corner, and he waved me over. “Good luck, Jack. ” He reached out his hand.
“Thank you so much for all your help. I couldn’t have done this without you. ”
“Yeah, you could have,” he said with a grin before stepping into the elevator and disappearing.
The last package simply contained a letter from me and a small note asking her to open her front door. I hurried to Cassie’s apartment door and waited with the roses clutched in my sweaty hands, right in front of the Mets logo on my jersey. It was in this exact moment that I realized I’d left my confidence somewhere between my old life in Arizona and my new one here. I was nervous as hell. What if… so many what-ifs plagued my mind as the door flew open.
“Oh my God,” she said, as her voice rang out into the hallway.
She looked beautiful. I wanted to grab her, throw her against the wall, tell her how sorry I was for everything, and make up for each moment that had been lost between us. I lowered my arms, allowing the lettering on my jersey to show.
“I’m enjoying this,” Cassie’s face scrunched up with her broad grin.
“Enjoying what exactly?” I teased through my vulnerability. It was tough reliving the parts we’d just lived through. I had no idea if Cassie would ever forgive me or take me back. There was a good chance she wouldn’t. Last night was a huge risk for me, but I’d do it all again for her.
“Hearing all of this from your point of view. I want to see the rest of last night through your eyes. ”
I inhaled deeply, knowing that I’d give her anything she asked for, and then I continued.
“Why are you wearing a Mets jersey?” she asked, her voice carrying a mixture of excitement and confusion.
“I got traded. ”
“They traded you?” She sounded surprised. No, she sounded offended.
“Well, technically,” I couldn’t stop the smile from taking over my face, “I asked. ”
“You asked what?” Her green eyes narrowed.
“I asked to be traded to the Mets. ” I shrugged and looked down at the floor, wondering how long she was going to keep me outside.
Her eyes grew wide. “So, you live in New York now?”
“Just got here. Can I come in?”