I set the envelopes down on the table, suddenly tired. “I’ll think about it then. I can’t make any promises though.”
“That is all we ask,” Mrs. Saunders said with a nod. She smiled. “Would you care for some breakfast?”
“No, thank you. I am afraid I don’t have much of an appetite right now. I have some thinking I need to do. Please excuse me.” I picked up the envelopes, carefully placing one inside the other, the chair nosily scraping the floor as I stood. The Saunders nodded politely and resumed their breakfast as though they hadn’t asked me to choose between my dreams and love.
I managed to make it to the hallway before I started running.
***
I nearly slammed the door to my bedroom, but managed not to. Every nerve in my body was shaking from my encounter with the Saunders. I looked at my freshly made bed and hoped I was going to wake up soon. This had to be a dream.
I placed the envelope on my dresser, trying to ignore them while I checked my phone. No new messages. It was still early though and Jack always tried not to wake me up. I fell back onto the big bed, feeling the soft bedding catch my fall. I tried to take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out. It didn’t work. I still felt flustered and discombobulated.
The envelope stared at me like a judgmental eye. The dolphin necklace that Jack had bought me sat curled up neatly beside it. Two different decisions. Two different paths. I closed my eyes, but I could still feel them there, haunting me to choose. Dreams or Jack?
I let out a frustrated noise and stood up. Lying in bed wasn’t going to help me choose. I needed something to do, something productive. I hated sitting around with nothing to do but wait for my dinner with Jack or for Rachel to come entertain me. I hung the dress coat in the closet, smoothed the expensive silk of my shirt, and opened the door to the hallway.
I got two steps before I realized that the Saunders would probably still be eating breakfast in the dining room. They were the last people in the world I wanted to see, so I snuck carefully down the hall past the door to the kitchen. The lights were off and it was empty. A pale cold light through the window sparkled on the stainless steel appliances, but what caught my eye were the roses.
Sitting on the light wooden table was a beautiful bouquet of long stemmed red roses. They smelled divine, their sweet scent filling the kitchen with images of summer. A small card sat next to them, inscribed simply with “For a beautiful lady.” It was Jack’s messy scrawl. I could barely read it, but it made my heart melt a little, knowing that this was Jack’s way of trying to apologize for last night.
I held a flower up and took a deep breath. The scent relaxed me, my shoulders dropping down from my ears to rest where they were supposed to. I picked my phone out of my pocket.
Thank you for the flowers. I love them!
It only took a moment for the reply: You deserve them. I’m sorry about last night. Do over?
An idea formed quickly. I could feel a grin spreading over my face as it began to take shape, the pieces falling together.
Dinner is on me tonight. I’ll arrange everything.
I took another deep inhale of the flowers. I would need Rachel’s help, but I could make this a wonderful evening. It was something that would keep me busy, and give me something to do other than think about the decision sitting on my dresser.
Chapter 18
I sat on the vinyl seat, a nervousness making my hands twitchy. I played with the silverware, the menus, the dinky plastic cup filled with soda. I probably shouldn’t have had two full glasses already, but I was nervous and kept refilling it.
I glanced around the small diner. It was nothing fancy—a greasy spoon hamburger joint that reminded me of home. With Rachel’s help, I had rented the entire restaurant for the evening. The owner was more than happy to “sell” me the space for an evening, and I had a feeling Rachel was generous with the payment in return for a signed agreement not to tell anyone. No crazy photographers were going to ruin this date night.
I glanced up as the door chimed. Jack walked in the door, wearing a $10,000 suit. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt—granted it was an Rachel-chosen jeans and t-shirt costing more than a week’s salary. I watched as the two bodyguards closed the door behind him. The taxi he arrived in pulled away, immediately lost to a sea of matching yellow cars. The taxi for him, while Rachel drove around in the fancy chauffeured car to keep the paparazzi from following him had been my idea.
“You did all this?” He asked, glancing around the small diner. He looked so out of place as he hung his fancy suit jacket on a coat rack covered with grease, and slid into the seat across from me.
“I thought we could be normal tonight,” I said with a smile. He glanced around.
“Where are the other diners?”