Chapter 7
290 Words
The roses arrived at 10:23 AM.
Ariella was on the phone with a client, trying to explain why their claim had been denied for the third time, when the delivery man walked in carrying a vase so large it blocked his entire face. He set it on her desk with a grunt and handed her a small white envelope.
"Have a nice day," he said, and left.
Ariella stared at the flowers, two dozen long-stemmed roses, deep red, their petals still beaded with water. They must have cost a fortune. More than her weekly grocery budget. More than her electric bill.
She hung up on the client, he'd been yelling anyway, and opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
I overstepped. Let me make it right. Dinner. Tonight. -N
She read the card three times. Then she crumpled it and threw it in the trash.
Derek appeared in the doorway of his office, his eyes landing on the roses with naked greed. "Who sent those?"
"No one."
"They look expensive."
"They're flowers, Derek. They're not a down payment on a house."
He frowned, clearly trying to figure out if she was worth questioning further. "Fine. But don't let them distract you. I need those quarterly reports by end of day."
He disappeared back into his office. Ariella stared at the roses, her jaw tight.
She should throw them away. She should call him and tell him to stop. She should...
She pulled one rose from the vase and held it to her nose. It smelled like summer. Like possibility. Like something she couldn't afford to want.
She put it back. She didn't call him. She didn't throw them away.
She worked through lunch, the roses watching her like a silent accusation.
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