Page 29 of Stopped

Twenty minutes later, I was still sulking at my kitchen table as the door to my home flew open. Lionel himself marched into the room with a flurry of energy that I had no hope of keeping up with.

“Idiot. First-class, grade A fool. I can't believe you!” Lionel's hands landed on my shoulders before shaking me vigorously. “Dumb, dumb, dumb!”

“I know! Stop—”

“Shh! That's enough talking. You aren't allowed to open your mouth without a chaperone.” He peeled me from the surface of the table and manhandled me until we were face-to-face. “We’re going to fix this. But you have to promise to keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.”

I mimed zipping my lips with a nod.

“Good boy. Now, the first order of business—go get dressed.”

I arched a brow in question, but his steely reserve and dramatically elevated eyebrow propelled me into motion. Lionel was a cuddly teddy bear with the hidden sass of a rabid coon. No one wanted to deal with Lionel when he let loose. I'd experienced it enough times to know. I scurried into the bedroom and did as I was told.

By the time I returned, my kitchen was tidy and Lionel was waiting with my keys and phone in hand. The jaunty pop of his hip and the tight-lipped expression on his face kept me silent. He gave my appearance a quick once-over, crinkled his nose, and bobbed a clipped nod before pivoting toward the front door with a pissy exhalation. I barely stifled my chuckle while falling into line and following him outside.

I was forced into the passenger seat of my own car with another severely arched eyebrow. Before I knew it, we were headed off to God knows where with him grumbling the entire time. Maybe he was finally done with my bullshit and intended on dropping me off on the side of the highway like a dog. Fitting, honestly. Imagine my surprise when Lionel parked my car in front of his flower shop instead.

“Li, why are we here?”

“Because we’re sending flowers to your boyfriend to apologize for being an idiot, then we are visiting the shops for retail therapy before concluding the day with a visit to Ashley’s salon so you can fix that mess on your head in time for the weekend.”

“Ashley? No. I’ll go to the Walmart salon before I do that—”

“The fuck you will. Get out. We have a bouquet to design.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled, but it was ineffective, as always. Lionel was immune to my attempts at appearing withering and intimidating. He simply waltzed up to the front door of the quaint floral shop and snapped his fingers so I’d keepup. And, of course, I did. There was no winning when it came to him.

The air inside the postage stamp of a storefront was humid and warm and lush with the scent of flowers and foliage. Lionel’s packrat tendencies were on full display—dried flowers and baskets for arrangements hung from the timber rafters. Ready-made arrangements of all shapes and sizes and colors cluttered shelves and tables. Amongst them all, small gifts and trinkets filled any available spaces left. There were candles and figurines and handmade soaps and countless other items I would never be able to inventory. My heart softened as I watched him move through his space. It was easy to forget how ethereal, delicate, and fragile my former boyfriend was until I witnessed him floating among his flowers and treasures like the fae creature he resembled.

“I really appreciate this,” I murmured, carefully navigating the narrow space between the display tables to follow him deeper into the space.

He beamed at me with wide-eyed wonder and flushed. My Lionel was a good friend—a great one. I was lucky to have him, and once more, I found myself regretting all my selfish impulses, including those that had ruined our relationship. With all this self-reflection, I might have well become a damn mirror.

“I bet no one has ever got him flowers. People never get flowers for men.” He reached out and grazed the petal of a potted orchid with a slender finger. “Do you know what kind you want to give him?”

“I don’t know… something big and bright that screams ‘I’m an idiot and I’m sorry’ should do the trick. Do you have neon signs to send along with the flowers?”

“No, but there is rain in the forecast, and I betcha the thrift shop has an old boombox. Maybe stand outside his window with it over your head?” Lionel flashed a sneaky little smirk over hisshoulder before shimmying around the counter to grab a step stool. Before I could offer to help, he was climbing to the top to pull a gigantic basket overflowing with sunflowers and yellow roses from a higher shelf. Apparently, he wasn’t done. I boggled as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a large handful of candy bars affixed to floral spikes.

“Oh, wow.” I crept forward and watched with rapt wonder as he arranged the candy amongst the blooms to create a snack-and-flower bouquet. Under any other circumstance, I would have laughed at the concept, but in reality, the idea was a brilliant one. The yellow background made the brightly colored wrappers pop. The more I thought about it, recalling my own sad-sack binge of ice cream the night before, the more I appreciated Lionel’s genius.

“Here, write your sorries on this.” Lionel plucked a sheet of heavy parchment from a paper tray I hadn’t seen amongst the prolific clutter.

Warily staring at the paper, I chewed my lower lip as my brain went blank. How could I honestly convey the tangle of my thoughts and emotions with a hastily scribbled note? The honest answer was that I couldn’t, so I kept it simple and hoped I’d have the chance to tell him face-to-face everything I’d meant, what I wanted, and how truly sorry I was.

Will, I am so, so sorry. My idea was a stupid one. Please call or stop by because I need you, too. All my love, EJ

Lionel snatched the paper from my hands as soon as I went to fold it in half, skimming the contents of my pitiful letter with an unrevealing expression. When he broke the silence, his question startled me into even more self-reflection.

“Do you? Love him, I mean?”

There was no noise but the quiet hum of refrigeration units and trickling water. Eventually, before it became too oppressive,I answered his question with more raw honesty than I’d spoken with in a long time.

“I do. I don’t think I ever stopped.” I skimmed his face and hoped I wouldn’t find hurt there. “I’m sorry. I do love you too, just—”

“Oh, gosh. Hush. I’m not mad. I know we love one another. Our love is different.”

Without giving him a word of warning, I stepped around the counter and swept him into a tight embrace. He was almost always the first to initiate physical affection, but this time, it was me who needed it more.

---