Page 89 of When the Walls Come Down
Then I strolled across the hall and sat in the new creative director’s chair. On a sticky note, I scribbled: You’re going to kick ass, Peach. You always will.
I walked out of what I’d once thought was my dream job with my head high. It was no secret that there’d been times in my life when I’d gotten stuck. Fuck, I was a master at getting in my own way.
But there wasn’t a damn person who could ever tell me I didn’t give anything—or anyone—I’d devoted myself to my all.
I hadn’t planned on leaving the office late, but it was after six when I made the stroll up the steep hill toward my building. I still hadn’t heard from Maggie, so I doubted she was back in town yet. And on the way, about a block from home, a bundle of flowers caught my eye at a street vendor’s stand.
Lilacs.
I paused and inhaled the sweet scent, but something had changed. Sure, they made me think about Maggie because we’d bought some on our date, but they weren’t exactly her, either. After standing there a little too long to just be browsing, I asked the vendor, “Can you make me a big bouquet? A little of everything?”
“Sure, pal. A mix, huh? Don’t know her favorite?”
I shrugged because the cold, hard truth was I didn’t.
The colder, harder truth was Maggie probably didn’t, either, but she deserved to make the choice on her own. Just like with me.
She was a young, beautiful woman with the world at her feet and the wind at her back. A guy would be lucky just to know her—and even luckier if she wanted him beside her as she fought for everything she wanted.
I couldn’t deny it though; I wanted more. Fuck, I wanted way more—I wanted her, I loved her—but none of it sounded worthwhile with someone who didn’t want me too. I’d made that mistake once in my life already.
So, with a massive bunch of God-only-knew what kinds of flowers, I took a deep breath and opened the glass doors to our lobby. As always, I gave Clarke a wave and marched to the bank of elevators.
“Oh, Shane. You have a package,” the elderly doorman called.
It only reminded me of the last time I’d had a package waiting for me in the lobby and of that very night when I’d teased Maggie about how close she and Clarke were since he’d already known her last name.
He shuffled over, and I met him halfway so he could pass me the parcel. I slipped my flower bundle under my arm to use my hands.
“And I have specific instructions to have you open it down here.”
I gave him a pointed glance, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with me. What was more, he had a lopsided grin he was failing to keep hidden. Undoubtedly, he didn’t know what was going on between Maggie and me. The good-natured clerk probably only expected the best, but I knew that it could go either way.
“Okay,” I said.
The cardboard box wasn’t large, just big enough to hold the many gifts I’d given Peach—in the name of murder—when things had been different. Was she returning them? My chest pounded as I slipped a finger under the loosely taped box.
Inside was a folded piece of paper and something wrapped in tissue paper. Clarke was good enough to hold the package so that I could investigate.
The note read:
It’s a bit brisk this evening for an old man like you. We don’t need your geriatric ass catching a cold. You’re a big enough baby as it is. Put it on and go upstairs.
“Maybe it’s for me after all,” Clarke remarked after unabashedly reading my note. “I’m a lot older than you.”
I glared at him and he chuckled.
“Can’t blame a man for trying.”
“She does have a thing for older men, but this isn’t for you, Clarke.” I tore the paper away, revealing a cardigan similar to the one I already had. This one was gray.
Her favorite color.
I’d like to say I kept my composure and held my own, but I’d never been a good liar. So I lifted a hand in the air and let my elderly competition give me a spirited high-five as maybe the first real smile in days spread across my scruffy face.
“I’ll take all that mess,” he offered, and I slipped my note into my pocket and bolted to the elevator. Why was it they always seemed to go so fucking slow when you were in a hurry to get somewhere?
But as soon as the doors parted, I was met with a Hansel-and-Gretel-like trail of tiny orange not-mints. All in a row, like ants marching, the candies led down the hall directly to my door.
Fuck if my heart wasn’t racing.
I felt awful for not cleaning up the mess she’d left, but with the bouquet in my hands and her on my mind, it just wasn’t in the cards to pluck them all up as I went. I’d have to send a huge thank-you to the staff of the building.
