Page 63 of Things We Tell Ourselves

“Look, this is my last bouquet. I’m not about to mess it up, but if you got the key that fits the door to 419, then it’s yours. How does that sound?”

Camille gives him a hard look. “It sounds like a good line for a serial killer.”

“Pfft, a serial killer wouldn’t buy the most expensive roses from my shop,” he plucks the card from the bouquet. “Does your last name start with,” he looks at the card, “an L?”

“My last name is Lee,” she confirms, feeling less apprehensive and more interested in finding out who sent her flowers.

He hands her the card. “They’re yours.”

She takes the bouquet from him. “Camille Lee” is written on the small white envelope. She flicks it open, taking out the card.

Now you can pick your favorite—Wade.

“Alright,” she sighs, raising her hands to take the vase.

The florist eyes her luggage. “Want me to hold onto it until you get your door open?”

She doesn’t object and sticks the key in the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. She looks over at the florist. He’s watching her with an amused expression, standing several feet back.

Her jaw drops. She sees why he didn’t want to give her the bouquet.

Her apartment is full of flowers.

Twenty-One

The smell of flowers fills her nostrils. She steps inside, rolling her suitcase into the empty space next to the door. Besides a thin path inside, her apartment is full of flowers. Vases full of bouquets sit across her small kitchen island, covering her entertainment center and coffee table and littering the floor. The flowers are every shape, color, and size imaginable.

Now, she can truly pick out her favorite flower.

Camille smiles through tears.

Hearing steps behind her, she turns. “You can…” she stops, seeing that it isn’t the florist but a man in nice clothes stopping at her open door with a bouquet of roses covering his face. He lowered it slowly. “Mr. Bloom,” Camille swallowed.

“Ms. Lee,” he says, dipping his chin. He stops just inside the doorway.

She opens her mouth to ask how all the flowers got in here, but she knows how. “Evelyn.” Of course, it was Evelyn who gave Wade a spare key. That’s why she wanted her to call as soon as she arrived home.

“I told Evelyn what I wanted to do after I explained what Sadie did.”

“What Sadie did…”Camille trails off.

“Buck came and got me after you left. He showed Mom, Nancy, and I the conversation between you and Sadie.”

“Our conversation…”she mutters, still not following.

“On the security system.”

“Wow,”she gasps, taking the roses from him, “you people really do have cameras everywhere.”She turns to the tiny path into the living room. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?”

At the sound of him walking in behind her, Camille abruptly cut her eyes over her shoulder at him.

“You stay right where you’re at,”she says, enjoying the hurt in his eyes. “Not until you explain yourself.”Camille goes over to an orchid sitting on her entertainment center. Moving it closer to the other flowers blocking her television, she sets the roses down beside it.

“There isn’t much to say except that I went on onereallybad date,”Wade explains, awkwardly standing at her door. “As much as I’d like to blame Sadie for trying to ruin our relationship, I would bet it was Victoria feeding her all that BS.”

Camille crosses her arms, hiding how much she enjoys the aromas from the flowers around her. “Women tend to tell their loved ones when someone takes advantage of them, even if it was a one-night stand.”

“You don’t understand,”Wade says, stepping closer. He stops when Camille frowns at him. “There was no one-night stand. We didn’t even kiss. Victoria and I went out to eat, had a decent time, and then she lost it on me hours later. You read the texts.”

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