And it’s not Ryder.
Darling, the note begins, I hope these flowers remind you that if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain. And once he gets there, he will conquer its peak at any cost. He doesn’t just give up, and neither do I. You may think you’re too high and mighty for me to scale now, but my lung capacity is excellent, even at altitude. Love always, S
Tears of frustration well in my eyes, and I scream as I rip the note to the tiniest shreds I can manage until it’s unrecognizable, the damage irreversible.
But it doesn’t erase the message from my mind. At any cost. The fact that Sebastian thinks I can be intimidated into going back to England, back to our dismal, tension-filled, ugly life only further solidifies my decision not to see him or respond to him or think about him ever, ever again.
I shake my head. It’s almost funny to imagine him dictating this card to some poor 1-800-FLOWERS customer service rep. What a passive-aggressive coward, she might have thought.
Because that’s definitely what I think.
But until this moment, I hadn’t really considered what it means that Sebastian knows where I live. I mean, even as I shut the door to our apartment that morning, after he’d gone to work, I realized that when he figured out I was gone for good he’d assume I went home to Atlanta. And he’s been to this house, of course. Two and a half years ago he grilled steaks with Jamie and me in the backyard, just around the corner from where those fucking flowers were delivered.
These past couple weeks I’d been taking for granted the distance between us, literally and figuratively the width of the Atlantic Ocean. Taking for granted I was safe in my own home. That even though Sebastian could find me here, he wouldn’t.
And now he’s basically in my fucking kitchen, disguised as a sunburst bouquet.
I run down the stairs, gaining momentum as I turn into the kitchen and grab the vase. So numerous and tightly packed together, the flowers look stifled to me now, forced into an arrangement that offers them no room to breathe, no space to negotiate: Sebastian’s relationship philosophy made physical, complete with the rose thorns.
Outside, I toss the bouquet into my empty city trash bin. The flowers scatter, and the vase lands with a soft thud on the plastic bottom. It might have been more satisfying to see it shatter into a million little pieces, but you can’t always get what you want.
It’s a lesson Sebastian could stand to learn.
CASSIE
CH. 19
Ryder drives the way he has sex: aggressively, confidently, purposefully. He changes speed gently, never jarring, never sudden, knowing exactly how much pressure the Audi can handle as we cruise along I-85.
I try not to think about Sebastian, instead focusing my attention on how hot and relaxed Ryder looks in his jeans and V-neck t-shirt with short sleeves that show off his tatted biceps. He’s even wearing flip flops. This is probably the most casual I’ve ever seen him—dressed anyway. Although, is naked so casual that it doesn’t even count as casual?
I have no idea, but I welcome the chance to picture Ryder in the buff while I try to figure it out.
So I develop a little game with myself. Every time Sebastian or the flowers or the phone call yesterday creep into my head, I substitute it with the image of Ryder in his bath towel or his work-out pants or his shirt unbuttoned, trousers around his knees, me in his arms. Trading in a bad habit for a sexy one.
Everyone’s at the campsite when we arrive at Lake Lanier.
“I’m so glad you came,” Shelby says, giving me a hug.
She introduces me to Parker, the fourth partner in Altitude, a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shaved head and strong chin who looks like he could be a Navy Seal but actually just moved back to Atlanta from six months in New York for work. “I’m in finance,” he says when I ask what he does. Turns out he works at the same investment bank as Sebastian, but in a different department. I smile and nod when he tells me, letting the image of Ryder pinning me on the gym mat this morning erase Sebastian’s presence from my mind.
We spend the day eating and talking and laughing and drinking. Jackson brings out a football and we break into teams, boys against girls. On the final play the four of us women huddle together. “I’m going to hand the ball off to Cassie to run it,” Shelby says. “Now, she’s fast, but they have Parker guarding her, and he is, too.”
“I have an idea,” Ruby says.