Page 106 of Crazy for this Girl

Really, all I wanted was a day off.

“How can I help you?” I force myself to ask as Cal lifts a brow at me, dressed in a gray suit that molds to his broad frame, and a black tie that—if I wasn’t so irritated with him—I wouldn’t want to wrap tighter around his neck right now.

“I’m here to pick up my order,” he imparts, cool, collected, so not bothered by me at all for the second time within a week.

This is way too fucking much, and Chicago just got smaller.

“What was the name?” I ask, grabbing a nearby pad of paper and allowing some of my petty to come out.

He glowers at me. “Laynee…”

“Yes?”

“Same order as last time.”

“I don’t recall what that was.” I cock my head to the side, soaking in his clenched jaw that looks oh so sexy as hell and the way his moss greens turn a shade darker.

“Sixteen white roses,” he clips out.

I snap my fingers and point at him. “Oh, right. I’ll have someone bring those right out to you for your lady friend.

“Why are you here?” he asks before I can turn around and have Anna bring him out his order. “What happened to business school?”

“I graduated.” After my break, when I figured out I could do anything with a basic degree.

“But you work here.”

“What’s wrong with here?” I counter, disappointed with myself for still not using those two words I’ve been wanting to say. If he thinks that this place is below him, I’m going to bury him under it. “I’m loyal to the people I love. I don’t bail on someone that needs help.”

Cal meets my forming glower with a look of pure and emotionless fervor. “I am loyal to you, Laynee. Everything I’ve done is for you.”

“Me?” I look around the room of fast pick-me-up bouquets that people can just scoop off with, and the greenery plants my aunt sells. “I haven’t had you in my life for more years than you can count, Cal. I haven’t seen shit from you, nor have I seen you since you begged me to come to a shitty hotel room, took my virginity, then left me a note to not wait around for you. I took your advice. What else do you want?”

“I want you to stop looking at me like I never gave a shit about you.”

I mindlessly shake my head. “Don’t come in here and try to make things right because I’m not interested in that. If you want to do something for me, stay out of my life. Don’t text me, and find another flower shop. I’m done with you, Cal. Seriously.”

He reaches behind him and pulls out a black leather wallet, then plucks out his familiar gold credit card. Tossing it to the countertop, I know that he’s either ignoring me or he’s thinking about the right thing to say.

Either way, I still don’t care.

I can’t care.

“You wouldn’t have liked me back then,” he mutters. “I wasn’t—”

“I don’t like you now,” I snap back. “You promised me you’d never leave. You said we were best friends and that was supposed to mean something.”

“It did fucking mean something. It meant every—”

“Little did I know that you just, what, got bored at school so you decided to get a pen pal turned daily text buddy, until you graduated. Did you come to North Carolina? You bought a ticket. I checked the picture a million times. It had the right date on it and everything.”

“I did buy the ticket, but—”

“You didn’t show. We’ve spoken through sporadic text messages, and every time I’d ask you where you went…do you know what you did?”

“I know what I did,” he replies with a deep-seated growl. “But if you’d just let me explain—”

“I did let you explain. You just didn’t take the opportunities. So”—I take a step back, one more closer to my sanctuary to leave this uncomfortable and heartbreaking conversation—“take your sixteen white roses, Cal, and shove them up your entire ass for me.”

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