Page 93 of Reverb

“I'm not scared of flying. I'm scared of getting hurt by you.” Again.

He sighs. “I've thought about things a lot and I need to talk to you.”

I waver at the image of reuniting with Bryn, but remembering the useless tears I cried over him pushes that away. “Maybe when you get back to England. Call me then.”

“You may be cute, but you're bloody stubborn,” he replies.

“You may be a hot rock star, but you broke my heart.”

“Don't say that,” he says softly. “I don't send just any girl plane tickets and I'm not in the habit of phoning girls who say no to ask them to change their mind.”

I want to blurt 'apart from Hannah' but what would be the point?

When the call ends, I remain frozen in the moment of Bryn calling to say he wants to see me. Does he seriously think I'll drop everything and run back into his arms?

And do I seriously think I can say no to him?

* * *

The strong floralfragrance assaults my sinuses as I step into the house, and I fight back a sneeze. I drop my bag on the floor by the door and head into the lounge. A huge bunch of pink and white lilies in a tall glass vase sits next to two more on the small dining table. The sweet scent of the first bouquet Bryn sent masked the musty smell lingering since the house flooded, but three days of deliveries and the fragrance overpowers everything.

“More flowers?” I ask.

Michelle looks around. “Where are they all coming from? Does your boyfriend own a florist?”

The envelope attached to the vase has my name on, and I pull out the card.

‘If the flowers don’t work, I’m sending kittens’.

“Crap,” I mutter because I’m dealing with Bryn here and I can’t be sure he’s joking.

“Your guy is keen. Who is he again?”

Oh, just a rock star. “Bryn, and he’s not my guy anymore.”

“He obviously wants to be.” Michelle returns to watching her reality TV show. “Romantic.”

Three days since I refused Bryn’s offer of a trip to Paris, three days of texts and flowers. What next? Possibly kittens. Then what? Puppies?

In the kitchen, I rest against the counter and pull out my phone.

Five minutes later, a response:

I half-laugh to myself, at how I had the measure of him.

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