Page 70 of Bossy Wicked Prince
I hang up and throw the phone at the sofa as hard as I can. It bounces off a cushion and lands on the floor. I see Mom’s name on the screen, trying to call me back. I have no intention of answering.
Instead, I go straight to my home office and open my laptop. It only takes a few minutes for me to find the florist Cat likes online. I’ll call them and ask about those pink flowers. I’ll make them deliver every goddamn one they have.
The flowers are a start. But I want to do something more—something permanent. Something she’d never dream I could do for her.
I open my email and start composing a message.
22
CAT
Pippa
Got any plans for Thanksgiving?
Mom and my stepdad are jetting to Bali, if you wanna come over.
We can order take-out and watch something stupid on Sequel.
Iglance at Pippa’s texts as I walk back to my apartment. Normally, I’d be thrilled at her offer to save my Thanksgiving. But right now, I can’t shake the irrational suspicion that she doesn’t really want me there.
I’ve been feeling off ever since I met Nate’s mom. Eleanor didn’t just get me to doubt our relationship. She has me doubtingmyself.Suddenly, I’m asking myself if I’m good enough for anyone’s affection.
All through my shift at the shelter today, that doubt hung over me. Every smile from the residents left me with the nagging feeling that they were just being polite. When Minnie gave me a bear hug and thanked me for all my hard work, I wanted todissolve into a puddle on the floor. Doesn’t she know I don’t deserve her praise?
If she knew the things I said to my Dad, would she even be able to look at me the same way?
I pull my coat tighter around myself and walk faster. I need to get home. After a long hot shower, I’ll curl up under the covers and go to sleep early. If I’m lucky, I won’t even dream.
Luckily, I’ve been able to avoid Nate since our canceled date. He’s texted me a number of times, but I haven’t even read them. I don’t know what would be worse—if he was angry at me for blowing him off, or kind and concerned.
I almost wish he’d be angry. That would make it easier for me to forget how good it felt when he took care of me. How he helped me get out of my head.
Technically, I don’thaveto read his messages, even for work. UPS gave its employees a few days off for Thanksgiving, and the timing couldn’t be better. There’s always an uptick of hungry people at the shelter this time of year, and I was happy to go in and help prep for the holiday dinner. It’s a better distraction than moping in my apartment.
I turn onto my block, digging in my purse for my keys. The company that bought my building gave me a new set of keys for the brand-new industrial strength locks. It’s nice to be able to open my own door without having to jiggle the handle just right.
When I flip on the lights, I’m hit with a wave of pink.
My apartment has been taken over by flowers. Vases of pink peony tulips are crammed into every spare corner. I can barely get the door open, thanks to the ridiculous amount of flowers. It’s like some crazy fairy waved her wand and peony-fied my whole place.
“What the hell?” I yelp.
Just then, my phone rings. I pick up immediately, hoping someone’s calling with an explanation.
“Hello, this is Sylvia from Sommers Property Management. Have I reached Caitlin Daniels?”
“Yeah, hi, that’s me.” I drop my purse on the ground, carefully avoiding the peony tulips at my feet.
“I’m calling to let you know that your building super let a delivery person into your apartment.”
I look around at my personal greenhouse. “You don’t say.”
“Sorry about that. The delivery was too large, and would have blocked off the hallway otherwise.”
“It’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.”
I’m not thrilled that my super let himself into my place, but what can I do? I’m almost positive who the flowers are from, and if Nate didn’t get my super to let him in, he would have found another way. Probably sent in a team of expert flower delivery ninjas or something.
