He nudges her slender arm. “Sweetheart, I’ve had flowers delivered to our house at precisely six twenty-nine a.m. on your birthday for the last three years—how did you think I managed that?” He chuckles. “I certainly wasn’t roaming the streets early in the morning, banging on flower shop doors and begging them to open.”
“Six twenty-nine a.m.?” I ask, fighting a smile.
Maryann blushes and glances at me. “That’s when I was born.”
I melt a little. Oh wow. This man loves his wife so much that he arranges for flowers to be delivered at her exact time of birth? That’s so damn sweet.
Maryann reaches out and lightly pats my upper arm. “I’m glad businesses like yours exist, Hailey. If only to prove that true romance still exists.”
And to facilitate cheaters…
I shove the thought aside. This is a happy night. I can’t think about Kara. Though I’d be a lot happier if Matt would get here already.
We schmooze for a few more minutes while we wait for the ceremony to begin. I check my phone every other second, until Maryann finally calls me on it, her expression awash with sympathy.
“Your husband is late?” she says.
“Boyfriend,” I reply, giving a worried nod. I really hope everything is okay. It’s not like Matt to not text or call if he’s running late. Out loud I say, “He’ll be here soon.”
“Of course.” She turns to her husband, but not before I catch a glimpse of the pity in her eyes.
Oh my God. She doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’ve been stood up.
But I haven’t been stood up. He’ll be here. Matt will absolutely, totally be here.
I haven’t been stood up.
I’ve been stood up.
Matt never showed. This might not be so soul-crushing if he’d called. Or texted. Or anything.
It’s nine o’clock and the ceremony is long over. I’m leaning against a column, the dregs of my drink in my glass, feeling awful. The strap of the tiny little purse I brought tonight (because hello, fancy dress!) is gouging a trough in my shoulder. My award is sticking out of the top. It’s a trophy of a seated woman with a thoughtful expression, her quill pen poised over a ledger book. She looks lonely. And she’s surprisingly heavy.
I feel low. And to make it worse, they’re playing “Always on My Mind” for the couples on the dance floor. That’s my sad song—the one I listen to when I need a good mope. The Elvis version.
When my award was announced, everyone clapped as I stood to walk to the podium. I felt shaky as I quickly gave the brief acceptance speech I’d rehearsed. This was supposed to be a big moment for me. I thought I’d feel…settled. Successful business. Sexy boyfriend. Happy night.
God, I’m so lonely instead. After the ceremony I made some small talk with the other members of TWBA. But there’s nobody in this room who really knows me. I’m turning thirty this summer and all I have to show for my life is a business that my ex wants me to leave, and a man who doesn’t call when he’s late.
Okay, that’s probably not fair. It’s not like Matt to blow me off so completely. But if I’m not pissed off at him, the alternative is worry. What the hell happened to him that he couldn’t send a text? Even if his phone died, he’s on a plane with two dozen buddies.
Maybe the jet’s Wi-Fi died. Unless he was in a car accident! Shit!
You were always on my mind…
I have to get out of here before I lose my ever-loving mind.
In the lobby it takes me only a moment to retrieve my coat. Then I’m hailing a cab and jumping in the back, even though public transportation would be cheaper. Screw it.
My phone rings, startling me.
Matt?
I scramble, but the darned trophy is in the way. I set her on the seat of the cab and grab the phone. And it’s him!
“Matt?” I answer breathlessly. “Where have you been?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is a scrape. “We were delayed. I’m in a cab heading downtown.”
“You didn’t call! And I…” Assumed the worst. Okay, it’s probably a bad idea to describe the bloody accident I’d conjured with my worried brain.
“I missed your speech,” he mumbles. “Really wanted to hear it, too.”
“That’s okay,” I say automatically. But no, maybe it isn’t okay. “Actually, I wanted you to hear it, too. I was really looking forward to tonight. And well, it was…” I choose my words carefully, trying to process my own flood of emotions. “A disappointment.”
His sigh is weighty. “Can you come over so I can try to make it up to you?”
“I didn’t pack a bag,” I admit. “The morning walk of shame in this dress would be brutal. Can you come to my place?”
“Sure,” he says, his voice gruff. “On my way.”
My cab ride takes too long. They’re doing some late-night utility work on Yonge Street. But eventually we pull up in front of my building. And by the time I pay the driver, a black sedan pulls up, too. As my taxi slides away, Matt’s handsome form unfolds from the backseat of the car. He’s wearing his suit pants and a white shirt—not the tux I thought I’d see tonight. His face is tired, and he’s thrown an old zippered sweatshirt over his clothes. In other words, he’s a mess.
And he’s still the best-looking man I’ve ever seen.
Something softens in my soul when our eyes meet. “Hi babe,” I say, a smile beginning to form.
But his mouth looks tight. He gives me a head-to-toe sweep of his gaze, and then reaches up to rub his face. “Shit,” he says from behind his hands. “You look amazing. But I was supposed to say that about four hours ago.”
“Well…” Sadness—and about ten feet of pavement—separates us. I pull my wrap a little tighter against the chill. “I wish you’d called so I wouldn’t watch the door all night.”
“I fell asleep.” His eyes close tightly, as if he’s in pain, and then open again. “I crashed out when the jet was on the tarmac in New York. We sat there for more than two hours, but I didn’t wake up until we touched down.”
“Oh,” I say slowly. That explains why he hadn’t warned me. “Just come inside, okay? Let’s put it behind us.”
He doesn’t step away from the car, though. In fact, he keeps a hand on the open door. “I shouldn’t, Hailey.”
“What?” He came all the way over here. How ridiculous to change his mind now. “You have an early skate?”
Sadly, he shakes his head. “No. But it’s always going to happen like this. I show up for everything just after it’s too late. This is how it goes with me.”
“I don’t mind,” I say, suddenly afraid. “Well, I mind a little,” I babble, trying to get a handle on the situation. “But I’m allowed to be frustrated once in a while, right? It doesn’t mean I don’t lo…” Whoops. The L-word almost slipped out. Now is not the time. “Nobody’s life runs smoothly all the time, Matt. I don’t blame you.”
“Right.” He looks at his shoes. “You will, though. Maybe not tonight or next week. But it builds up quick. And maybe that’s just the way it is. You deserve a guy who can show up when it matters.”
“Matt,” I say firmly. “Let’s get some sleep, okay? Things won’t look so grim in the morning.”