Page 22 of Timeless Valentine

"Yes?"

"I'm Gus." He opens the door for me. "Mr. Rose said that there was no reason to refuse. I've already been paid, so I think it would be a terrible waste not to accept a ride to the flower store, don't you?"

As I hesitate, he smiles kindly. "To be honest, Miss, he sounded a bit frantic on the phone. Plus it looks like rain. You might as well let me drive you."

He has a point. Being soaked is no way to start a shift. I reluctantly get into the car, where a coffee and muffin are waiting.

"I prefer tea, and that muffin has walnuts in it, to which I am mildly allergic. So once again, I think it would be a waste if you didn't take them," Gus says with a wink before closing the door.

I listlessly eat the muffin while staring out the window at the gray storm clouds gathering.

I'm accustomed to being alone on days that are special to everyone else. Since the care facility is always swamped on holidays, whenever I manage a visit, I always make sure it is on a quieter day.

Ian and I don't really speak, so we never share a meal together. So holidays have always been spent on a few video calls with old friends, and possibly ordering in dinner.

But this Valentine's Day is going to be the first holiday in years that I feel genuinely lonely.

For the past few days, a tiny flutter had been buzzing around in my stomach, thinking that I might have a Valentine for the first time ever. Childish, really. Leo and I don't even know each other very well. Sure, it would be nice to have a special meal, but I can't spare the time, and it's wrong to accept a gift if I don't intend to stay with him.

Ah, well. Now the point is moot. He has made it abundantly clear that I can't stay with him. We're just too different. He will never understand my life.

It's hard to tell which makes me angrier: the fact that he snooped through my mail, or the idea that he wants to swoop in and make everything right. I know it comes from a place of kindness, but it also feels a little like he is trying to makemylife more convenient forhim.

Or maybe I'm just so tired and frazzled that I can't even think straight anymore.

The car pulls up in front of Maria's Flowers. "Here you are, Miss. What time shall I pick you up?"

"Oh." I look at him guiltily. "I have no idea. Don't worry about it."

He chuckles, nodding. "I understand. A flower shop, the day before Valentine's. It must be completely nuts."

He hands me a card that reads, "Gus Assenza, Private Driver" followed by his phone number. "I have to do some shopping, so how about I swing back here at eight with a good book, and wait out front? When you're shutting up shop for the night, just send me a text. I'm hired for the entire night, until you're home safe."

"Thank you." Taking the coffee with me, I dart into the store.

For the next several hours, I would lose myself in the fragrance of fresh flowers and allow it to rejuvenate me. I would be too busy to think. Too focused to be sad. And too distracted to be crushed from my very first love being over before we even got started.

14

LEO

Ipull up in front of Grace's building ten minutes early, and see her just coming out the door. She looks like an angel in the morning light, but then I'm struck by the nervous look on her face when she sees my car.

I jump out and run around to open her door. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to," I say quietly as she approaches. "This is about helping you stick to your schedule. Since that's the most important thing to you, it's also extremely important to me."

Her eyes twinkle with a tiniest hint, perhaps, of a smile. "Thank you."

She slips into the seat, and as soon as the door is shut, I'm relieved that she automatically reaches for her coffee. As I drive, I put on a bouncy jazz station so that the silence doesn't grow too heavy.

"We didn't quite get that rain they were calling for yesterday," I say, testing the waters with a little light conversation. "There was a bit of rain around two in the morning, but that was it."

She looks at me quickly. "Why were you up at two?"

I give her a contrite look. "I don't sleep well when I'm upset. When I've hurt the girl that means more to me than anyone else in this world, apparently I am very upset with myself."

It's hard to read her expression while I'm trying to keep one eye on the road. "I'm very sorry that I looked at your mail," I say, as gently as possible.

She nods. "I know. It's more than that, though. You need me to change, and I'm not going to."

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