Page 73 of Naive in Love

I open the door to a random guy holding a beautiful bouquet of roses. I am dumbfounded, not expecting this. My first thought is that they are for Lena, but she isn’t home, and Preston knows that.

“Sophia?” the guy asks.

“That’s me. Who are they from?”

“Don’t know. I just deliver. The card is in the flowers. Sign here, please.” He hands me a clipboard to sign, still holding on to the bouquet. I feel Ethan’s presence behind me. I sign, give the clipboard back, and when the guy tries to hand me the bouquet, I grab the card and read:

I’m sorry for last night. Please turn on your phone and call me. We need to talk. I love you! Talk to me. I made a horrible mistake.

Love, Caleb

I drop the card, shaking my head. “No, I don’t want them. Please take them back.” I try to shut the door on the guy, but he puts his hand out to stop the door.

“I can’t take them back. If you don’t take them, I’ll just leave them here.” He bends over to place the vase on the floor.

“TAKE THEM AWAY!” I yell at the poor guy.

Lena is walking up the stairs, her brows pulled together.

“I’ve got them.” She looks at me. “Take them away as in throw them away?” she asks.

I nod. She picks them up and follows the delivery guy back down. He jumps in his car while she walks down toward the dumpster. I turn around to find Ethan watching me.

“From Caleb, I’m guessing.”

“Where’s my phone?” I ask, a bit bitchy, without answering his question. How could I have not thought about my phone all day? Now that I think about it, I don’t know where my clutch from last night is either. I had my credit card, IDs, cash, and phone in there. Shit!

He continues looking at me, not answering, until I get even more frustrated and ask, “Well?” with my hands on my hips and my eyebrows raised.

“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself as he walks into my room. “Look under your bed,” he says to me over his shoulder. I follow him and watch as he sits on the bed to put on his shoes.

I get on all fours, looking under my bed. He stands and begins walking out of my room, and it finally dawns on me how rude I was to him. There is so much I should thank him for, and I have avoided those two simple words. I jump up and grab his arm, which tenses under my grip. He stops but does not turn to face me.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” I feel his arm relax. “And I haven’t said thank you either. You saved me last night, and I…uh…I’ve been selfish. You really didn’t have to do all you did for me, but you did. Really, I mean it, thank you.”

He finally turns to face me, his expression soft. “Baby girl, all you have to do is ask. I will never tell you no.” He brings his hand to brush my cheek. I can’t stop myself from leaning into his touch. “I’ll let you turn on your phone in private. I turned it off last night. You had just fallen asleep after your rage, and I heard it going off. I checked it, and it was Caleb. I didn’t want you waking up and having to deal with that yet…so I turned it off. I’m sorry if I crossed a line for you.” There’s sadness in his voice and expression.

“No. Please don’t apologize. You did what you thought was best in the situation I placed you in. You were looking out for me. I wasn’t in my right mind. Thank you.” I take the tiny step toward him, closing the space between us, and wrap my arms around his waist, burying myself into him. I breathe in his scent, trying to hold it in my memory, knowing this will probably be the last time I have this.

19

As soon as Ethan leaves,I sit on my bed cross-legged and stare at the phone for a moment before I summon the courage to hit the power button.

The phone powers up, and it begins pinging uncontrollably. It intimidates me, so I take another moment before I begin the search for last night's debacle. The texts may be a little easier to swallow, so I open them up first. There are over thirty of them. I hit the app, and all the messages are from Caleb. They essentially say the same things:I’m sorryandcall me.

Why would I even want his apology? And why is he even bothering? I’m just mad I was blind to it. I believed him. Anger begins to make its way to the surface again. He strung me along. I am having a hard time admitting I could be so stupid and naive.

With the hurt and fire I’m feeling, I open my call log. Another ten missed calls and five voicemails. I hit play on the last message:

Babe, please call me. I don't know if you’re okay. I've been calling all night, and your phone is still off. I'm worried about you. I love you. I'm sorry you saw what you did last night, but I swear it will never happen again. It was a stupid mistake. We haven't been together in so long, and I fell for her advances. Please bab—

The message cut off. I wonder what the rest of the messages say, but not enough to actually listen. I swipe my finger over each message and delete them. I dry the tears that had begun falling and numb myself.

I send a quick, simple text to Caleb so that he stops trying to contact me.I’m home. I don’t want to talk.

I hear Lena in the kitchen and try to figure out how to start the very uncomfortable conversation that will occupy the remainder of the evening.

I scroll through my phone again and find another clue from last night. I don’t remember texting Lena, but clearly, I did. I know why she contacted Ethan. It’s time to face the music.

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