Page 36 of The Secret
Except here I was.
“Well, this has been a heck of a conversation, considering the sun hasn’t risen, huh? I’ve gotta go,” I told her. In fact, I was already late. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Try to be home at a decent hour for once,” she mock-scolded. “No more overtime.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Sure.”
Sometimes it really was just easier to go along with things.
* * *
The sun was still below the horizon line when I got to town. For a second, I debated parking Theo’s car right outside Micah’s Blooms and letting the chips fall where they might, but the last thing I wanted wasmoredrama, so I pulled into a spot on the other side of the road, outside O’Leary Hardware. Islammedthe door, and the sound ricocheted up and down the deserted street, but it wasn’t enough.
I was in full basilisk mode right now.Rip, tear, kill.
I walked up to Micah’s front door and knocked on the glass—poundedon the glass, really—and a minute later, Micah walked out of the back room wearing his usual jeans, t-shirt, and barely-there grin.
Pretty handsome, for a guy my mother believed to be the devil incarnate.
Every time I walked into Blooms—usually via the back door he left propped open for me—I had to make a conscious effort to tamp down thewanting. I’d catch him sitting at the desk in his little office out back—reading glasses on his nose, tidy stack of invoices on his desk arranged by due date, another stack of orders to be filled arranged chronologically, everything stapled with stock lists and little sketches or printed pictures of arrangements, every paper littered with a confetti of multicolored sticky notes covered in his nearly illegible scrawl—and I’d become way too aware of the flow of blood in my veins and the buzzing in my ears. I’d remind myself thatoffice supplieswere not a fuckingaphrodisiac, and that Micah didn’t want me anyway.
But today? Today I asked myself whether Micah actuallydidwant me. Whether I couldmakehim.
The thought ratcheted up the churning in my gut.
“What’s this?” Micah demanded, pulling the door open a couple of inches and leaning against the frame. “We use the front door? Are we out of the closet now?”
“I’ve been out of the closet since I was a teenager,” I told him.
“Wow,thatlong, huh?” Micah said in mock-amazement. “A whole ten minutes?”
I gritted my teeth. “You gonna let me in? Or is there a quota of shit you have to give me first?”
“You’re late.”
“I know.”
Micah pushed the door open, leaving just enough room for me to duck under his arm between him and the door. I walked directly to the back room, and I heard Micah lock the door behind me.
The room was familiar to me now. Comforting, in a way. But I fought the urge to kick at the furniture, just to see it smash. I was spoiling for a fight with someone who could take it.
Or a fuck. Either would work.
I tossed my keys on the long, metal workbench in the center of the room, which was already strewn with wire, ribbons, and a half-completed arrangement of red roses and bouvardia. I leaned my palms against the cool surface and reached out a finger to trace a delicate, star-shaped flower. I wished I had something to hit.
“What’s up?” Micah demanded from behind me.
I looked back at him. “Nothing. Why?”
“You’re late,” he repeated.
“Yeah? So?”
“So, you’re always on time.”
Oh, the irony.
“Singing a different tune these days, huh? This is you giving me the benefit of the doubt again, right? Keeping your promise no matter what?” I rolled my eyes.
