Page 126 of Resurrection
The second I confessed to Sonia that the revenge plot was off the table, she straight-up called me out for being a fool and whisked me off to Palm Springs for a drink. Which—duh—led to drinking and talking shit about men.
We started with me and ended up with Sonia’s latest adventure. Apparently, she’s been casually seeing someone from Desert Palms, and the asshole disappeared.
Meanwhile, Ty's been blowing up my phone with texts, asking me out on dates like we’ve stepped into some kind of rom-com vortex. He keeps sending these ridiculous cooking memes too. It’s borderline obsessive but oddly charming—even if it feels a bit unhinged after seventeen years of total radio silence.
There's just something so addictive about this strange reconnection. Maybe it’s reckless—I mean, flinging myself heart-first into things is kind of my modus operandi—but that’s how I’ve always been—all in, no matter what it is. Whether it’s cooking or loving someone.
Deep down, I feel bad for enjoying this sudden romance in front of Sonia, who’s been going through the opposite. But she’s never been mean or jealous about it, which I appreciate a lot.
Those are my thoughts as I sip on my iced coffee outside the casino one weekend evening. It’s been a busy day and I’m taking a short break, leaning against the wall, catching my breath after a huge corporate dinner party we handled today.
Every time the doors slide open, I can hear slot machines rattle in thedistance. The sound is quiet enough to let my thoughts wander, but loud enough to remind me I’m still at work.
The sun has dropped below the horizon, and I’m just about to be done with my break and head inside when I see Ty’s silhouette moving toward me, roses in hand.
I'm not sure if the prickling in my stomach is nerves or excitement.
He looks out of place here with his confident stride, the bright bouquet, and those blue eyes fixed on me. As he draws closer, I realize he looks slightly less put together than usual, like he’s thought about this so much that he forgot how to actually do his hair. It's messy in a way I’m not used to, not the typical stylish messy, but sloppy messy. I hate myself a little for loving it.
"Hey," he says, like this is normal. Most men don’t do flowers these days.
"Hey, yourself," I reply, setting my coffee down on top of the garden wall surrounding the flower bed next to me. "What's this?"
He thrusts the roses at me as if he’s not quite sure how to go about giving flowers to a girl. It's charming. A little awkward too. And a little sweet, similar to our first kiss in high school. Our fingers touch as I reach for the bouquet, and it feels like a shock. Like being pulled back to him all over again. I hate how my body reacts to his proximity, how every part of me is alive and burning when he’s near, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
"They’re pretty," I say, noncommittal, taking the flowers and pretending my heart isn’t flipping. I brush the petals with my fingers. "What's the occasion?"
He shifts his weight and tucks his hands in his pockets, trying to act casual. "I’m just testing the waters," he says, watching me.
I raise an eyebrow. "Water's not my favorite."
"Well, yeah." He chuckles. "You’re better with a kitchen knife."
"You got that right."
"How’s your car?" he asks, changing the topic with the precision of a master chef changing recipes. "Hope the tires are running great. I thought I almost lost one after that encounter with your brother."
The memory makes me grin despite myself. "Tires were intact. I checked."
"Are you?" His eyes light up with that playful glint. "Intact, I mean."
Smile spreads on my face, even though I don't want him to see me this excited. "That’s debatable." I stand there, cradling the flowers like they might break. Or like I might.
Ty's expression changes. It's a look I haven't seen in a long time—open, vulnerable. On TV and online, he always looks like he has nothing but his guitar on his mind.
In this moment, there’s something else.
I stare at the bouquet for a second, willing it to reveal some answers. How can something as simple as roses unravel me like this? My stomach does a little flip, and I wonder if I'm losing my sanity.
I clear my throat and decide to push a little further. "So, really, Ty… What's the deal?"
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up more. It makes him look even younger, more like the boy who gave me that cheap promise ring. "Can’t I bring my girlfriend flowers without a reason?"
I nearly choke. "Girlfriend?"
He smirks at my surprise. "Too soon?"
"Most definitely." The word is a flimsy barrier between my heart and his hope. "Especially with Adri on your tail."
