still half-asleep. “Did Papa give you flowers? They’re gorgeous.” Striking with color and texture and scent.
In fact, she thought, walking over to rub one vibrant orange petal between her fingertips after she’d poured herself a cup of java and drunk enough to wake up, the bouquet was unique and tailored—far beyond anything Thea would have expected from her father. Wayan adored his wife, but his usual idea of romance was to buy Lily a new shovel.
Not that he ever allowed Lily to use it. No, Thea’s father always dug Lily’s plots himself, a small, secretive smile passing between husband and wife each time he did so. Thea had only discovered the reason behind that smile a year past; the knowledge made the moment even sweeter.
That was what Thea wanted, that deep, private, enduring bond.
Now, Thea faced her beaming mother, her own lips curved. “I guess he’s finally picked up something from you.”
Lily patted her cheek. “They’re not from my man, Thea Alice. They’re from yours.” With that, she winked and walked out of the kitchen.
Coffee forgotten, Thea just stared at the extravagant arrangement, her mouth dry and her blood thunder in her veins. It was only flowers, she told herself. She’d received flowers before. Eric used to send her white roses to make up after a fight. She’d thought it was cute at the time. Later, she’d figured he must’ve settled on white roses because they were simple and effortless to order from a florist. No reflection or forethought required.
What sat in front of her was in no way a straightforward order.
They had come from a local florist, but Thea knew that florist, had seen their arrangements. This was unlike anything they had ever done, the look so distinctive that the instructions had to have been highly specific.
“Stop stalling, Thea,” she muttered and jerked off the small black envelope pinned to one side of the luscious, fragrant bouquet.
Her name was printed on it in silver. Telling herself to calm down, that it probably wasn’t even from David but from someone who wanted her to jump ship and take over the PR for another band, she lifted the flap and slid out the silver on black card… and stopped breathing: Will is an idiot. I am not an idiot. Full memo to come.
That was it. No signature. Not that she needed one. Feeling as giddy as a girl with her first crush, she picked up the flowers, put them carefully in one of her mother’s large glass vases, and carried the arrangement up to her second-floor room. Her sisters weren’t yet awake or there would’ve been much squealing.
If Thea was honest, she felt like squealing herself.
Shutting her bedroom door, she put the flowers on the wide ledge in front of the window and sat cross-legged on her bed to look at them. She wasn’t that easy; flowers were a quick, pretty fix that didn’t alter the underlying issue of trust. But still… He’d made an effort. That meant a lot.
Chest tight, she picked up her phone. I got the flowers , she messaged, knowing it had to be near lunchtime in his part of the world.
His response arrived two minutes later. Having seen exactly how slow he was at typing things out on his phone, she grinned. He had to have started composing a reply as soon as he received her message.
Did you get the note?
Yes. I’m looking forward to the memo.
A knock on Thea’s door, high-pitched giggles coming through the wood. Have to go. Little sisters.
Marjorie and Ella tumbled into the room the next second. Squealing, they oohed and ahhed over the flowers, then jumped on the bed with her and demanded information about her “boyfriend,” drawing the single word out in a singsong tone that had her laughing.
“Tell us, tell us, tell us,” Marjorie said. “Or we’ll have to torture you.”
“Yeah?”
Marjorie and Ella shared a look at her unconcerned response, then pounced, tickling Thea until tears ran down her face, and this time, they were happy ones. She’d missed her
Shauna Rice-Schober[thriller]