When I'm With You
Page 74I look down at my feet, seeing just the top of each rose. A sea of red that only two hundred and sixteen roses can make. The scent of roses has already overtaken my house, but all I can do is smile.
I don’t look for the card right away, knowing it’s here, but walk around my house trying to find a home for each vase. With the last one in hand—and no other option—I place the last four in the middle of my kitchen table before plucking the card I see off one of them.
His handwriting is rough and slanted, just as it was on yesterday’s card. Of course, the one yesterday had just said, ‘Yours, Nate.’ Today’s corny line makes me smile when the first made me melt. I drop the card on the table before pulling my phone from the back pocket of my shorts.
“Hey,” he hums in my ear as the sound of shuffling papers comes over the line.
“You know, pretty soon I’m going to be sleeping on roses.”
He laughs.
“Thank you, honey.”
“You sound happy,” he muses softly.
“And you sound tired. Do you need anything?”
“It’s wine night with Nikki, so there’s a good chance I’ll still be up when you leave Dirty.”
“I hope so. I miss my girl.”
I laugh. “It’s been two days, Nate.”
“Two long-as-fuck days.”
I don’t respond because he’s right. Instead, I change the subject.
“My mom asked if I would be at family dinner tonight. I told her no, but … uh,” I trail off, not sure how to word what I really want to ask. Something I’ve been wondering, but not willing to ask and add to his stress.
“I got the same call from my mom. Not a surprise, but her question was actually whether we would be at family dinner.”
“Uh …”
“Girlfriend,” I echo on a squeak.
His hilarity grows, but I sense it’s more sarcastic at this point. “Yeah, Ember. Figured that was clear.”
“You just hadn’t said and I … well, I didn’t want to assume any titles had been placed.”
“Yeah, I have, and now, I’m working on showing. Titles were placed the second you came on my cock, Ember. See you later, baby.”
His disconnect is instant, and I pull the phone away wondering if I just screwed up by being all nervous and unsure.
My next call was to Nikki.
“So let me get this straight … he sent you almost five hundred roses this week?”
I take a sip of my third glass of wine and look over at Nikki. She’s about to fall off the couch as she leans forward with wide, excited eyes.
“Holy shit.” She gasps.
“I know. What does that even mean?”
“That’s so romantic!” she screams, ignoring me.
I thought Nikki would be able to help me figure out what my mind couldn’t, her experience with men being a lot more than the few short-term boyfriends I’ve had since high school, but I didn’t think she would turn into a squealing and screaming freak fest.
“Yeah, but what does it mean?!”
She stops bouncing and narrows her eyes. “What does it mean? Oh my God, Em! If that isn’t the grandest of gestures to show someone you love them, I don’t know what is!”