Tinsley

“Hey, babe,” Kassidy singsongs as she walks through my front door. “How’s it going?” She plops down on the sofa next to me, handing me a coffee. Bringing the cup up to my nose, I inhale and moan at the smell of chocolate and peppermint.

“Peppermint mocha?” I ask, letting my head loll toward her without lifting it from the couch.

“Of course! Would I get you anything else?”

A smile tips up my lips as a soothing warmth fills by belly. I love this woman. She always knows what I need exactly when I need it. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I sip my coffee as Kassidy takes in the living room for the first time, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Where did all these gorgeous flowers come from?” she asks, turning her attention back to the four dozen purple roses spread throughout my living room. After my graceful departure from the hospital, I’ve only heard from Damien through short texts updating me on Dahlia’s progress—nothing personal. That went on for two weeks, then, four days ago, I received the first delivery of roses. The note attached read: I’m not giving up. Love, Damien. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my heart flutter.

“They’re from Damien. I’ve gotten a dozen a day over the last four days,” I explain with a shrug. Like it’s no big deal. Like it isn’t an expensive or grand gesture. Like they aren’t my favorite flowers and he hasn’t remembered that after ten years. Kassidy’s eyes widen even more, and I reach over to the end table, grabbing the card that came with the first set and handing it to her.

“It’s about damn time,” Kassidy says, slapping her hand on her thigh. “I knew that man never got over you. I just knew it. And I know for a fact you still love him.” She shoots me a look, daring me to argue. I’ve never lied to her, and I’m not about to start now. Not that she wouldn’t see straight through it anyway.

“It’s not that I don’t have feelings for him. I just can’t go through that again with him. What he did broke me. I can’t handle it a second time,” I explain, and she looks at me with sympathetic eyes.

“I get that, but you’re both adults now. A lot has changed.”

“He told me he didn’t love me anymore, so what has changed? How could he love me, then not love me, and now love me again?” I raise my brows, waiting for her answer. “I mean, if he never stopped loving me,” I continue before she can answer, “why would he tell me he did? And if he did stop loving me, how would just seeing me again make him suddenly love me? I haven’t done anything to encourage it, and you’re right, after ten years, we have changed, so how would he even know he’s interested in me now? Should I just chalk it up to him being confused? Wanting something he now can’t have?” I ramble, all the questions swirling in my mind coming out in a rush.

“I think you need to take a chance. See what happens. Take it slow,” Kas says, and I bury my face in my hands on a groan.

“That’s not helpful at all,” I moan.

Kassidy places a hand on my shoulder, and I glance her way, not knowing what to do. “You deserve to be happy, and I have a feeling Damien may be the key to that.” Her tone is soft, gentle.

I straighten, running my hands through my hair. “I’ll think about it,” I tell her, though it feels like a lie. The doorbell rings, and I jump up to answer it, glad for the reprieve.

“Hey,” I say, smiling at the young man who has been delivering my flowers for the last four days. And there they are—a dozen purple roses in his hand. I chuckle, and my eyes dart to the box in his hand.

“Hello, Ms. Tinsley. Here are your flowers, and this is yours too,” he says, shoving the pizza toward me. I furrow my brows, taking the flowers and placing them on the table inside the door before gripping the box in my hold.

Coming up behind me, Kassidy hands him a tip, and we both thank him before I close the door.

“Why is the florist delivering your pizza?” Kas asks, following me into the kitchen. I place the pizza on the kitchen island and pull at the card taped to the front of the box. Opening the envelope, a wide smile crosses my face as I read Damien’s messy handwriting.

I remember how much you love Haven’s pizza, so I thought this little gift might earn me enough brownie points to get you to go to dinner with me. I’ll even take you to Haven’s. ;)

I lift the top of the box, curious to see if he remembers exactly how I like my pizza. Butterflies invade my stomach when I see mushrooms, black olives, and extra cheese. Kassidy is the only other person who gets it right. Logan never bothered to commit that small thing to memory. Even after six years of marriage, he would order pizza with everything but what I liked.

“Please tell me you’re going to say yes to him. He even put a winky face on the note. That’s so sweet,” Kassidy pleads, and I snatch the note from her grasp. “Come on. Who else besides me remembers exactly how you like your pizza and that purple roses are your absolute favorite?” She pins me with a knowing glare. Sometimes I swear we share a brain. “I see the fear in your eyes, T. I’m not saying marry the man. Take your time. Hang out together a little. Get to know each other again.”

Blowing out a breath, I break our stare and glance down at the card again, debating the harm that could come from just being friends. Just hanging out. Technically, there’s no harm in it. Except for the fact that I think my heart is already too involved. I bite my lip before closing my eyes and saying what just feels…right. “Okay, Kas. I’ll go to dinner with him. I’m not promising anything will come of this, though.” She grabs me, wrapping me up in a hug.

“Call him. What are you waiting for?” she squeals, holding me by the shoulders. I can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. My phone buzzes in my back pocket and I pull it out to check the screen. A smile creeps across my face at the sight of Damien’s name. Swiping my finger over the screen, I open his message.

Damien: How about a picnic by the lake tonight?

My hands shake as the nerves take over. A picnic seems kind of intimate and romantic—too intimate and romantic for friends. I hold the phone up to Kas so she can read the text, and my best friend turns into a shrieking nut as she dances around the kitchen. “Damien and Tinsley sitting in a tree,” she sings like a ten-year-old, and I can’t help but chuckle at her antics. Dancing over to me, she takes my hands and twirls me around the kitchen right along with her, and I play along, full-blown belly laughter bursting from my lips unabashed. My phone buzzes again in my hand, and I break away, a smile still on my face.

Damien: Still thinking it over or ignoring me? Really hoping you’re thinking it over.

Even though it’s a text, his nervousness shines in his words. Damien always was the sweet romantic type, and I had forgotten how special it was to be romanced—to know something simple like someone’s thinking about me and cares enough to go out of his way to show it. The plethora and ridiculous price tag attached to the flowers is proof of that.

“Don’t leave the man hanging. Text him back,” she says, pointing to my phone.

Me: A picnic sounds fun.

I hit send and blow out a deep breath. There went nothing. My stomach knots as I wait for what feels like forever for his response.

Damien: Great! I’ll pick you up at 5.

Me: See you then.

As soon as I hit send, my heart rate spikes. I can’t believe I just agreed to go on a date with Damien. If anyone would have told me a few months ago I’d be speaking to him, let alone going on a date with him, I would have called them crazy. Now, it seems I’m the crazy one.

“Let’s get your sexy ass ready!” Kas exclaims as she pulls me up the stairs. “You get into the shower and I’ll find you something to wear,” she commands, pushing me toward my bathroom. Shaking my head, I do as I’m told. Fighting would just be futile.

After my shower, I wrap myself in a towel, walk back into my room, and stop dead in my tracks. My room looks like a tornado came barreling through it. Stepping around the mess on the floor, I make my way to the closet, following the sound of Kas mumbling to herself. As soon as she comes into view, I stifle a laugh. Her hair is a mess as she frantically looks over the clothes still hanging in the closet. Every time she gets to the next hanger, she mutters something I can’t make out, but by her tone, I know it’s not a compliment.

“What in the hell are you doing?” I ask with a laugh. She huffs out a breath.

“When is the last time you bought new clothes? This closet looks like it belongs to a nun,” she inquires, and I try not to take offense. I like to dress conservatively. I’ve never been one to show a lot of skin or wear something that shows every curve, but a nun is a bit of a reach.

“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” I defend, and she spins around, pinning me with a glare.

“My grandmother has sexier clothing.”

“Then you need to go raid her closet. We are only going on a picnic. A t-shirt and jeans is all I need. Why are you freaking out?”

“I want this to be perfect for you. You deserve a good man who treats you like the queen you are. Damien is that man. I know he is. I’ve always known it,” she states, and my heart swells at her words. I am so lucky to have a friend who loves me as much as she does.

“Awww, you’re the best, but I’m going slow. Friends, remember? And if you keep freaking out, you’re going to make me freak out, and I don’t want to freak out.” I pull her in for a hug and we both sniffle a little before letting go.

“Okay. Now, get ready. I at least need time to do your makeup.” She holds out a white V-neck and a pair of black capris. “Oh, don’t forget these,” I hear as something pelts me in the back of the head.

“Owww.” I rub the back of my head before reaching down to pick up a sexy white push-up bra and matching lace thong. “And what do I need these for?” I ask, looking at Kas with a raised eyebrow.

“Just in case.” She shrugs. “You never know what may happen.”

“Oh, I know nothing involving him seeing me in my bra and panties will be happening.”

“That’s what you say now,” she singsongs, giving me a wink, and I shake my head before kicking the bathroom door shut behind me. That woman obviously doesn’t understand the meaning of slow.

Just as Kassidy is putting the finishing touches on my hair, the doorbell rings, and my stomach flip-flops.

“I’ll let him in. Take your time and come down when you’re ready,” Kassidy says before running out of the room, and I rub my sweaty palms down the thighs of my pants while trying to stop the shaking. Why am I so nervous? You’d think I’d never met Damien with how ridiculous I’m acting. But in a way, we have just met again. After all, people can change a lot in ten years. That thought brings up another point that has my gut churning. What if we’ve both changed so much, we aren’t compatible anymore? Slipping on a pair of white sandals, I take one final look at myself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing,” I say to myself as I head out the bedroom door.