CHAPTER FIVE:CARNATIONS
1308 Words
NEVAEH’S POV
I was halfway through typing up a memo about the community garden funding when I smelled a familiar scent.
I froze.
Not just because of the scent but because of what it did to me. How it curled in my stomach, familiar and intrusive and warm. I looked up just in time to see Carter Tegelli walking past the receptionist, holding a coffee cup and paper bag from WhistleWho in one hand.
There was something else in the other hand.
A bouquet of carnations.
He looked infuriatingly good in a crisp navy coat, black shirt, tousled hair that turned heads.
“Good morning,” he said with a soft smile and a voice as smooth as silk.
I blinked. “Carter? What—?
He moved like he didn’t belong in a place like this. Everything about him looked clean, tailored and expensive, from the coat he wore to the quiet confidence in his stride. He made city hall (this sad little building with flickering lights and outdated filing cabinets) feel like a place worth being in.
“I brought reinforcements.” He said confidently, placing the coffee cup and paper bag at the edge of my desk.
“What… is this?”
“Your usual,” he replied. “Oat milk latte with cinnamon. A little sweet, but that’s just me.”
My ears caught fire.
“And…” He handed me the bag. “A maple-glazed donut.”
I stared. “How do you know—?”
“I noticed you always stop by that bakery… WhistleWho, right?”
I stared. “You noticed that?”
He smirked. “I notice a lot of things about you.”
Oh yeah?
I peeked inside the paper bag to see an actual donut and a little note scribbled on the side of the bag that just said:
Just because ;)
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the smile that wanted to bloom. “This is dangerously sweet. Are you trying to bribe me into liking you?”
He held up the flowers, wrapped in simple paper. The thoughtful kind and leaned against the edge of my desk, watching me with eyes that somehow managed to be both wild and soft. “I’m trying to remind you that I already like you.”
I scoffed as I reached to grab the bouquet. “Thank you.”
“Carnations remind me of you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Plus your desk is a little grey.”
My throat tightened. I took the bouquet, suddenly aware of the fact that no one had ever brought me flowers at work. Or… ever. Not even Harold.
I cleared my throat and quickly took a sip of my coffee, it was perfect. My exact order. I narrowed my eyes. “Did you stalk my order history?”
He grinned. “I asked the barista at WhistleWho. She said you would give me a chance if I got you this exact coffee.”
I groaned. “Kiera.”
He chuckled lowly. “I just wanted to see you. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
My breath hitched. “Me either.”
For a moment, the room faded. The dull buzz of the printer, the clicking of phones, the creak of leather chairs, all of it blurred into white noise. It was just me and him, the quiet tension between us threaded with something warm and crackling and terrifying.
He leaned over a little.
“I meant what I said last night,” he murmured. “About you being mine.”
I looked down at the flowers again. “You really shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know how to handle it. Because I have a fiancé. Because this is complicated.”
He was quiet for a second, then said gently, “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
There was a beat of silence. Something thick and precious stretched between us.
“Carter—”
“Oh wow,” came a too-loud voice behind us. “This is… cozy.”
Harold.
I flinched.
He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, fake smile on display. Wearing the same damn hoodie from last night. His eyes were locked on Carter, then dropped to the flowers, then to me.
“Morning, babe,” he said casually. “Didn’t know you were doing breakfast meetings now.”
Carter straightened, his expression unreadable.
He said coolly. “Just dropping by to say hi to Nevaeh.”
Harold tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “So what exactly is this? A bribe? A sweet tooth-driven negotiation?”
“Harry—“ I started to say.
“No,” Carter said, stepping away from the desk a bit. “It’s just breakfast. For someone I care about.”
I froze.
Harold blinked, then laughed. “Okay. That’s bold. Given, y’know… she’s taken.”
Carter didn’t look away. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
He looked at Carter, then at the flowers again, and let out another laugh.
“Well, thanks for f*****g dropping by. But I think you should focus more on why you came to town.”
Carter gave him a long, patient look. “I am.”
Their eyes locked, something sharp passing between them. Not quite hostile, but not friendly either. A cold awareness of power and proximity. Carter could crush him with a sentence. Harold knew it.
Carter turned to me then, softening instantly. “Enjoy your breakfast, Nevaeh.”
I nodded, gripping the coffee cup like a lifeline. “Thanks. Really.”
He lingered for half a second longer, then walked off, footsteps steady and unbothered. The tension didn’t leave with him.
Harold turned to me as soon as Carter disappeared through the glass doors.
“What the f**k was that?” he asked, voice sharp.
I sighed. “He brought me a coffee, Harry. Calm down.”
“And flowers,” he added, nodding toward the bouquet. “Real subtle.”
I gave him a cold stare. “He’s being kind. Just drop it already “
He continued like I had said nothing. “I don’t like the way he looks at you. Baby, I’m trying to protect you. Men like that don’t want girls like you.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes as he kept on talking.
“Don’t let this little attention get to your head, Nevaeh, you’re not a slut.”
“Yeah, I don’t like the way you talk to me sometimes,” I snapped, before I could help myself.
The silence that followed was ugly.
Harold shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket and looked around like the walls were listening. Maybe they were.
“Dinner with my parents is still on. Thursday night. Don’t forget.” he said, tone clipped now.
“Do I have to go?”
He gave me a pointed look. “Of course you have to go. We’re getting married, remember? My mom’s been asking about you.”
I didn’t ask what she said. I already knew.
“And maybe tone it down a bit this time,” he added. “Last time you wore that… bright top. You know how she is.”
He didn’t wait for me to respond. Just turned around and walked back toward the mayor’s office, dropping, “See you later, babe,” like a dull stone behind him.
I sank slowly into my chair.
I looked down at the bouquet. Carter’s handwriting still visible on the sticky note, curling slightly at the edges. The coffee was still warm. The donut still waiting.
But my stomach twisted.
Thursday.
His parents.
How long have I been pretending that this life was enough?
- Writer
