The woman looked at an invoice in her hand. “Hannah Travis?” she asked, looking at me.
Confused, I just nod. “That’s me.”
She thrusts the vase toward me. “Then these are for you.”
I have no choice but to take the flowers even though I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake. This is just another issue I’ll have to iron out before the ceremony. I thank the woman and she turns to leave. I study the flowers up close. They’re gorgeous, full blooms interspersed with simple greenery that only highlights the beauty of the flowers. I smile. I love peonies. I know they’re one of the most popular wedding flowers and probably a total cliché, but there’s something about them that I love. They signal romance and sweetness in my eyes and I can’t stop myself from raising the bouquet to my face and taking in their delicate fragrance. I let one of the flowers lightly brush my cheek before turning back toward my desk. When I set the vase down, I notice a small white envelope nestled in among the blossoms. My name is handwritten on the outside.
For some reason, I turn and look around my office as though someone might be watching. My door is still open, but the hallway outside is empty. Still, I walk over and push it closed. When I turn back, the flowers dominate my vision, a splash of feminine color in my otherwise neutral-toned office. Before I can think too hard about it, I stride over and pull the card out of the bouquet. I study my name on the envelope but it’s in a handwriting I don’t recognize. Which means exactly nothing. The note was probably written by the florist. I roll my eyes at my own ridiculous nerves and make myself open the card.
Hannah,
Have dinner with me tomorrow night? I think we should talk.
Please don’t say no.
-Finn
I sit in one of the chairs facing my desk, still staring at the card. Finn wants to have dinner. He wants to talk. I don’t know why this comes as such a shock. I’d known we would eventually have to discuss what happened. We can’t just pretend nothing happened and go on with our lives. There’s no way that would work. Our brief interaction at breakfast was enough to blow that theory out of the water. But dinner? Just the two of us? Am I ready for that? I glance at my watch and see that I don’t have time to think about it right now. I need to get back to overseeing the wedding prep.
My eyes go from the card to the flowers and back again. I realize that my foot is bouncing up and down in a nervous rhythm and I force myself to still. I wish I had someone to talk to. I need advice. I don’t have time to call Quinn right now. I haven’t told her what happened last night, and I know that conversation is going to take longer than I have right now. I resolve to call her tonight after the wedding is over. I take another long look at the flowers, feeling a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Finn sent me flowers. I allow myself a few seconds to grin like an idiot before tucking the card into my pocket, taking a deep breath and heading back to the ballroom. Work first. Then I can deal with whatever the hell is happening in my personal life.
Chapter Fifteen
Finn
The afternoon goes by more slowly than I like even with the hundreds of things that go into preparing for the wedding. I’m grateful that my help is mostly not needed. I’m honest enough with myself to understand that there are other people far more skilled in this area than I. I help with the heavy lifting when I’m needed and mostly try to stay out of the way of the pros. Hannah is in her element though. She’s like a tiny drill instructor. It seems like she’s everywhere at once, pointing, directing, and orchestrating all the little behind-the-scenes details that make events like this seem so effortless. And somehow, she does it all with a smile. She never looks annoyed or exhausted, though I know she must be after such a long week. Occasionally, when she thinks no one is looking, I’ll see her press her fists into her lower back or roll her neck in a tired stretch. She only lets her guard down for a moment, but it’s enough to let me know she’s human under all that seemingly inexhaustible energy.
We haven’t spoken since the café this morning. We passed one another in the hallway twice, barely making eye contact. If Hannah got the flowers I sent, she isn’t letting on. I didn’t sleep much last night after that disastrous phone call. Sometime around 2 am, I came to the realization that I needed to talk to Hannah one-on-one. It needed to be somewhat private but not so private that I’d find a way to rip her clothes off again.
What I also realized while I was lying there in the dark is that while neither of us had planned the events in my office, I’m also not sorry it happened. It had been incredible. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to do it again. Plus, I like Hannah. I always have. Maybe it’s time to get to know her better. To let go of some of my rules. The more I considered the idea, the more I liked it. Squinting at my bright phone screen in the darkness, I ordered flowers to be delivered to Hannah in her office. I knew I’d messed up the night before and needed a way to get her attention. Once I placed the order, my mind calmed and I was finally able to get a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off.
Now
