Page 150 of Whispered Sins

“YouwatchThe Notebook?”interjected Freddy, casting Brody a surprised glance.

“The ladies love it,” said Brody, puffing his chest out.

“I thinkyoulove it.” Freddy laughed.

“Whatever. That romantic shit works.”

“Letters would make sense if we didn’t live in the same city…” I mused.

“Brooklyn and Manhattan are basically different cities,” said Freddy.

I rolled my eyes and took a long sip of beer before we started coming up with different alternatives.

Now that I was awake at six in the morning, all the alternatives seemed a little hazy now thanks to the pints of beer. I do know they had just become more and more ridiculous as the night went on. Talks of ginormous cakes and flying storks and hiring a band to play outside her window. They were all laughable now. I lay in bed trying to remember them all, but gave up. None of them were right.

There was a part of me that wondered if I was stalling out of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of losing the little bit of a dream. So much had already slipped through my fingers like sand. I felt like I was desperately grappling to hold on to it, but more time was passing and I was losing the real possibility of being a part of Heart’s life. The baby’s life.

I sat up suddenly in bed and made the mental decision that today was the day. No letters. No grand gestures. No frills. I would simply show up as myself.

Quickly, I washed up in the bathroom and was about to get dressed when I realized it was barely past six in the morning. As much as I wanted to see Heart, I figured I should at least show up to her place at a more respectable hour.

I padded down the hall to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. As it brewed, I settled into a barstool at my kitchen island. I unlocked my phone and began scrolling through the news as a way of distracting myself from the day ahead. A day that could end in a true goodbye, or a day that a new life would start.

I read the latest business articles for tech and smiled to myself as I saw my company at the top of the morning’s headlines. They were teasing what the new product might be. They didn’t know what we were launching, but everyone had their guesses. Some were right. Some were way off. Either way, it had everyone talking, which was increasing the company’s market value, which was where I browsed to next to see how my investments were doing.

As I browsed and scrolled, I realized it had been a few weeks since I had seen my face in the tabloids. While I hadn’t gone looking, I would usually hear from my publicist if something was off color. Kiera had been surprisingly quiet. She hadn’t released any more statements about upcoming nuptials or our time in Bora Bora. Maybe she had really gotten the hint after all. She had to eventually. We were through.

Just out of curiosity, I clicked the tab for the gossip pages. Most of the headlines were about a celebrity affair and a major divorce. I kept scrolling and then I saw a picture of Kiera looking drunk off her ass, leaving a benefit event with a man twice her age. The headline read:Do We Ship Shipley’s New Romance?

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Some things never changed. I was just glad I wasn’t any part ofthatanymore. I walked over to pour myself a cup of coffee and went to the living room and looked out the large windows at the city below. The steam from my coffee warmed my face as I watched the light change from purple to an orange glow as the sun began to rise.

It really felt like a new day.

I texted Brody, who I was certain was still asleep and probably hungover. I had gone home after the pool hall, but who knew what Freddy and him got up to afterward. They were in the mood to party more, but I had Armand drive me home, much to their disappointment.

Probably not coming in today. I’m about to go full Notebook.

I hitsendand sat on the couch to drink my coffee. The minutes felt like they were dragging on. When it finally hit seven in the morning, I went to shower and change. I slid on a pair of dark denim jeans and a black crewneck before texting Armand to meet me in the parking garage.

It was still early, but I figured I could make a stop along the way and the traffic to Brooklyn would probably tack on another hour. I just knew I couldn’t be in my apartment anymore. I had to keep this momentum going before I lost my nerve.

“Where to, Mr. Jacobs?” asked Armand as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Is there a nearby florist?”

“All the florists are closed at this hour.”

Disappointed, I chewed on my cheek as I thought of an alternative.

“But the flower market should be open. It’s where the florists get all of their supplies,” offered Armand with a smile.

I wondered if he knew what I was up to.

“Great. Take me there, please,” I said.

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to a long stretch of sidewalk that was lined on one side with black awnings hanging over fresh greenery and colorful flowers. As I stepped out of the car, I was immediately hit with sweet and earthy smells. I had never seen anything like it. I began walking up the sidewalk, feeling slightly overwhelmed. I usually had a florist put something together.

I stopped and looked at the selection of roses, rubbing my chin with my fingers.

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