Page 64 of Collide
His voice echoes in my ears, low and sinful. I hide my face in my hands, my cheeks burning brighter.
“Look at you.” Riley laughs, delighted. “I’ve never seen you so giddy over someone before.”
“I know,” I admit softly, lowering my hands. “He just…unravels me.”
“Good.” She winks, lifting her drink to me. “You could use some unraveling.”
We finish up our drinks, the afternoon sun dipping lower as we settle the bill and leave the restaurant. Riley loops her arm through mine, still teasing mercilessly about Alex as we head back to Philippa’s penthouse.
I’m still smiling like a fool as we reach the front entrance, when Isaac, the friendly older doorman, steps forward to meet us.
“Miss Montgomery,” he says warmly, tipping his hat. “Some flowers arrived for you this afternoon. I had them sent up.”
Riley’s eyes widen, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Flowers, huh? Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”
My heart dances.
I’d never received flowers before.
“Thank you, Isaac,” I add, quickly dragging Riley toward the elevator before she can pry any further. But I can already feel her eyes on me, sharp and curious, as we step inside the elevator, anticipation swirling through me like champagne bubbles.
As soon as we step into the apartment, the scent of them hits me like a freight train.
There they are, in all their marvelous glory—rich, velvety red roses, arranged artfully in a glass vase.
They sit proudly atop Philippa’s pristine kitchen island, their bold crimson striking sharply against the tasteful creams and muted neutrals of her carefully decorated home.
“Oh, babe,” Riley gushes, bounding toward the extravagant display. She snatches up the small, cream-colored card, fanning herself dramatically before handing it over to me with a flourish. “Someone’s smitten.”
My pulse flutters like hummingbird wings, nerves tumbling wildly as I reach out, fingers grazing the heavy cardstock. My eyes catch on the embossed letters:A.W.
Hmm. Probably the florist?
Curiosity burning, I open the card, revealing the short, elegant handwriting inside:
“Älskling, you are beguiling. Thank you for the private concert. See you again? Yours, Alex.”
Every inch of my skin tingling as I reread his words. A rush of giddiness dances its way through me.
“What does it say?” Riley demands eagerly, bouncing impatiently at my side.
I hesitate, biting my lip, my voice barely above a whisper. I read it.
Riley’s scream pierces the quiet of Philippa’s penthouse, her delight echoing off the high ceilings as she shakes my shoulders, practically dancing around me.
My heart pounds wildly, overwhelmed by Alex’s words and Riley’s exuberance, both hitting me like a wave.
“Call him!” Riley demands with urgency. “Say yes!”
“Riley, he’s in San Diego,” I say with a shrug, trying to play it off.
“Weird. You’re headed there too, right?” she asks, raising a brow.
“Yeah. Coincidence, for sure. But…yeah, he said we should meet up,” I admit, fiddling with the edge of the card.
“Then call him, text him, make it happen—the ball’s clearly in your court,” she says, matter-of-fact.
“I don’t know…” I mumble.
