Bobbi

Following Tate’s suggestion, I had been locked in my apartment for a week, piecing together a Low-Calorie Cookbook. From what I could tell, I needed three more weeks to complete it. If it provided any source of income, I’d continue to make them until the well ran dry.

Convinced there had to be enough women out there who were self-conscious about their weight enough to at least attempt to eat healthy, I added each of my favorite recipes, and included the Weight Watchers points associated with each recipe, serving, and each recommended meal.

While I downloaded photos of my Spanish cauliflower rice, the doorbell rang.

I peered through the peephole. A twenty-something man with white hair, huge glasses, and a monstrous grin stood on the landing. Convinced he was a lost college student, I unlocked my door and opened it slightly.

A cart filled with flowers grabbed every ounce of my attention.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked. “This is 302.”

He looked at a sheet of paper. “11167 Bayside, number 302. Bobbi Madden?”

“That’s me.”

“These are for you. Where would you like them?”

I’d never received flowers before. I wondered if my father had sent me a sympathy bouquet for being amongst the unemployed.

“Which ones,” I asked as I eyed the flower-filled wagon.

“All of them.”

My heart fluttered. “They’re all for me?”

“They sure are.”

“All of them?”

“They sure are,” he shouted.

I opened the door completely and stepped aside. “You can put them on the kitchen table.”

He dragged the wagon inside, looked around my apartment, and then smiled. “Well, isn’t this cute.”

The aroma of the various flowers encompassed me. I watched enthusiastically as he placed them on the table.

“Stargazer Lily arrangement.” He placed a vase on the table. “Red Roses with white lilies.” He lifted another vase from the wagon and set it beside the first. “Yellow roses, purple Monte Casino and blue Delphinium.” He reached for a vase, admired it, and then carefully set it beside the second. “Then, there’s this one.” He set the last vase on the table. “White Asiatic Lilies, white roses, white mini-carnations, blue statice, and, to top it off, a cream spray.”

The entire table was filled with flowers. To describe it as beautiful wouldn’t do it justice. I stood with my jaw flopped opened and stared.

“Ma’am. Ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Ma’am!”

My eyes shot to him. “Yes?”

“Would you like to lock the door behind me?”

“Yes, thank you.”

When he reached the door, he took one last look at the flowers and smiled.

“Do I tip you?” I asked. “I have no idea. This is a first for me.”

He shook his head. “It’s already taken care of.”

When I opened the door, he screeched like a teenage girl at a horror movie. Directly in front of the door stood Andy and Tate.

“Sorry.” Tate stepped aside.

Andy stepped around the delivery boy, ducked under my arm, and rushed into the living room. “It smells heavenly in here.”

“Aren’t they pretty?”

“Thank you,” I said to the flower boy. I looked at Tate. “You’re incredible. Thank you.”

He gave a sharp nod. “You’re welcome.” He leaned to the side and peered beyond me. “Can I see them?”

I wanted to kiss him. Hug him. Something. But, our relationship had yet to go in that direction. I wasn’t complaining one bit, I enjoyed every moment we were able to spend together. At that instant, however, I wanted to let him know how the flowers made me feel, and touching him was the only way I knew to communicate it.

I stepped aside. “I’m sorry. Come in.”

As he came inside, I turned toward my flowers. Andy’s face was buried in the pink lilies.

“These smell divine.”

“Don’t break them,” I said with a laugh, although I meant every word.

I looked around the apartment and tried to decide where to put them all. Excitedly, my mind ran through the possibilities. I could put a vase on every flat surface, and I’d have flowers left over. My skin felt prickly from the excitement of it all.

I turned toward Tate, who was standing beside me, and smiled. “This is just…”

It was too much. I never would have guessed it, but having someone send me flowers filled me with more emotion than Christmas had as a child. Overrun with feelings and in shock that a man as kind as Tate could have enough interest in me to make such a gesture, I simply shrugged.

He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet for a few seconds. Then, he leaned toward me. While I watched him move in what seemed to be slow-motion, he raised his hand to my chin and turned my head to the side with the tip of his finger. Paralyzed from doing anything, I remained motionless.

Our lips met.

I wasn’t expecting it. At all. As if the flowers weren’t enough, he kissed me, right there in front of the flowers, and Andy.

My head spun. My knees wobbled. My hands flapped at my sides until I finally decided to put them where they belonged.

Around his waist.

He slipped his hands around mine and pulled me close. My chest pressed against his. My mind went aflutter. The kiss was gentle, yet meaningful. Our tongues found each other and intertwined tenderly.

My face went hot. Our lips parted, and then he looked at me.

It had lasted only a moment, yet it’s memory stuck with me for an eternity.

It was Wednesday.

My newfound favorite day of the week.