Page 50 of Adrift

His words, spoken with gentle concern, center my thoughts. Principles. Just like me, Darian had his own principles and I was tempting him to break them. I was asking him to put them aside for me. Was that fair?

Was it fair for me to expect him to go at my pace? To see things the way I see them, when he still has wrinkles he’s ironing out in his head. Didn’t the timing have to be right for both people in order to take a step together long-term?

And what if Darian hadn’t shown restraint from the beginning? Would I have respected him the same way? Would I have come to care for him the same way?

I hug Fred and Lynn, take my leave from their home, and walk back to my car. I’m just turning the engine when my phone vibrates in my purse and I take it out.

A text from the man who has tainted all my recent thoughts stares back at me.

Darian: Did you know there are over one-hundred types of lilies?

A frown forms between my brows, and I know my mouth probably has one, too. The hell? Did he accidentally send me a text that was meant for someone else?

I’m staring at the text in confusion when another one comes in.

Darian: Did you know that the Romans found the scent of lilies so intoxicating that they used to fill their pillows with lily petals?

My mouth twists. This is just a strange way of breaking the ice, if that’s what he’s doing. I realize he probably knows I’m reading his messages given the read-receipts I have turned on.

Darian: Did you know that lilies primarily come in six colors, and that each color has a certain meaning?

Lord, how long is this going to go on? I turn down the air conditioning in my car, chewing my bottom lip, before typing out a message.

Me: Thank you for the incredibly useful information. I’ll be sure to file this away for the next Trivial Pursuit night.

Dots jump on my screen as he types.

Darian: That would be considered cheating.

Darian: What you should be asking me is which color lilies are sitting at your door right now.

Wait.

Wait just a damn minute.

I raise my head and look out my windshield toward the illuminated nursing home. Darian has left me a bouquet each week–the white ones already in my room when I arrived at his house, the pink ones the week after, and the orange ones last Friday.

Is he implying that he chose the color of the lilies because of their meaning?

No. No way.

Me: What color lilies are at my door

Darian: Come home . . . you’ll see.

Chapter Eighteen

Rani

I slam my car door, swinging my purse onto my shoulder, before practically running to the front door. I can’t quite pinpoint the urgency, but my racing heart tells me there is one.

One by the name of Darian Meyer.

My hands shake as I unlock the door, seeing only a lamp illuminating an empty living room. Darian’s study door is open and the lights are turned off, so I know he’s not in there. But even as I search for him, I ask myself why.

Why is my heartbeat surging through my body, eviscerating any other sound inside my head? Why am I searching for a man who has baffled me since the second I stepped foot into his house? Why am I desperate to find him . . . to see him?

And once I find him, what do I even plan to say?

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