Page 32 of Words We Didn't Say

“Ah, boss.” Her tone was cautious. “There’s, ah, well…” She grimaced. “There’s a delivery for you.”

Distracted, I kept reading my screen and muttered, “Who from?”

“Eden.”

My head whipped up. Relief shot a dopey grin on my face, and I started scrambling from my chair.

“Hold that smile,” Sue warned, pointing her finger for me to sit back down. “I’ll bring the, er,deliveryin.”

An uncomfortable itch of anxiety niggled at me, but I shoved the feeling out of the way.

Eden must have received the flowers I’d sent. She’d realised there’d been a communication breakdown between us, and she was bridging the gap with a thoughtful gesture. She was sweet like that. Always had been.

Maybe the roses hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all.

My finger had hovered over the buy button for an eternity. The same itch of anxiety had whispered in the back of my mind, but no matter how much I’d tried to turn up the volume, I couldn’t quite hear the warning. It had to be paranoia. Eden loved flowers. I’d surprised her once with a hand posy of daisies—small, cheap, wrapped in brown paper, and nothing special—and she’d beamed at me like I’d given her a diamond.

But daisies didn’t exactly scream, “You’re the love of my life. Please come home.” And Mum’s suggestion certainly hadn’t helped.

Mum

Flowers stolen from your neighbour’s yard just because you were thinking about her.

Useless.

My mind had gotten stuck on needing something bigger and better.And you couldn’t get much bigger or better than roses. All the websites said so.

The grimace on Sue’s face told me everything I needed to know. The purchase I’d made at two in the morning would haunt me for the rest of my life.

My jaw dropped.

Sue carried a glass vase crammed with the charred remains of three dozen roses. The blackened tips of the petals were fragile, crumbling to ash as she made her way to the desk. Barely a drop of the red flowers’ former glory still bled through.

“Wha-what happened?” I choked out.

“I’m thinking she set ’em on fire.” Sue slid the vase onto the desk. She gave the roses another look over, her grey brows pinched together. “Yousureshe’s your girlfriend?”

I battled the sting in my eyes with a clenched fist.

Personal lives stay personal.

This was my fault. I’d blurred the lines, but I refused to bawl like a baby in my office. Everyone always underestimated me. They called me weak and teased me for being shy or reading books. But I was also a grown man. I settled multi-million-dollar contracts every day. Some of my clients had billions. I could sort out some flowers without losing my shit.

“There’s a card, too.” Sue’s slim fingers held out a white envelope.

I hesitated. This wasn’t going to be good. After a deep breath, I took it, flicked off the tab, and pulled out the card. I chuckled. It was a cartoon ginger cat licking its butt with the words, “GivingZero Fucks.” Another shaky breath. I opened the card. Eden’s looping handwriting spelt out a simple message.

I miss your streaming subscriptions.

I tossed the card on the desk. I wasn’t angry at Eden—her card was genius. The rage was all directed at me. I’d screwed up. Again. Monumentally. Somehow.

I wasn’t risking another misstep. The phone was already in my hand. “Sue, give me a minute, okay?”

She nodded. “Good luck.” Before shutting the door, she muttered, “You’re gonna need it.”

I jabbed the redial button. A few rings bleeped before Yvette’s voice greeted me for the hundredth time that morning.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said. “We thought we might hear from you.”

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