Page 92 of My Best Years

“What do you have there?”Andy, my favorite security guard, asks as I approach the hospital exit. He always stops me for a quick chat after a shift.

I halt my steps, looking down at the vibrant bouquet in my right hand. Without looking in a mirror, I know that my cheeks are turning bright pink.

“Oh,” I stammer. “Uh… Someone sent me flowers today.”

He knits his gray brows together.

“Is today your birthday or something?”

“Nope,” I shake my head nonchalantly. “They were just thinking about me, I guess.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, seeing right through my vague reply.

“That’s nice of them,” he clicks his tongue. “Who sent the flowers?”

None of your business, Andy.

“Just a friend,” I shrug.

Just the guy I was screaming at in the parking lot. Just the guy you banned from the hospital.

Oh, how the tables have turned…

He arches a knowing brow, not buying a penny of my bullshit.

“Thatfriendwouldn't also be your stalker, would it?”

Shit.

He knows exactly what’s going on here.

“What?” I exhale, trying to sound shocked by his question. A crooked smile curves his lips.

“They’re from him, aren't they?” he smirks. “I can see the answer written across your face.”

I sigh and place a hand on my hip before narrowing my eyes, scowling at him like I would my dad.

“Why are you being so nosy tonight, Andy?”

“Being nosy is part of my job, Ms. Ambrose.”

“Well, your manager would be happy to know that you’re exceeding expectations,” I reply with a hint of sarcasm. I wrap my fingers around the backpack slipping off my left shoulder and exhale a tired breath. “I’m gonna head home now, Andy. I’m exhausted after today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I flash him a soft smile before heading for the door leading straight out to the parking lot. With each step I take, I pray that Andy is done prodding me about the flowers. But if I’ve learned one thing about Andy in the short time I’ve worked here, it’s that he's a stubborn old man.

Just as I reach for the door, his crackly voice pierces through the silence.

“He put on quite a show that night.”

I stop in my tracks as my heart begins to race. I slowly look over my shoulder to find Andy shaking his head. His lips are pursed together, like he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“What?” I breathe.

“Hell, he might really be a stalker for all I know, but that man loves you, Birdie,” he states. “I’ve had sixty-five trips around the sun, and I’ve seen very few people look at each other the way you two did that night. I’m sure you had every right to be upset with him, but damn, you have that man wrapped aroundyour finger.”

His words hit me like a tidal wave.

Were we that obvious?

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