“You make me sick,” Lorah rolled her eyes as a the delivery guy passed me a bundle of roses.
I wasn’t supposed to work this morning, but I had so much to do at Mickies (the designers) that I decided to come in for a few hours to finish things up.
I set the roses on my desk, shuffling papers away from the vase I had put them in and continued to unpack the boxes stacked up beside my desk. “You’ve gotten flowers at work before,” I grinned at Lorah and tore the tape back from the box.
“Yeah, from that freaky copy guy from down the street. That doesn’t count,” Lorah laughed.
“Flowers are flowers,” I knew it wasn’t true, but what else was I supposed to say?
“Your flowers are from a soul mate, from some flukey guy you met and have huge chemistry with. How did that even happen, by the way? You weren’t even looking for a guy.”
I decided to tell her the truth. “Actually…” I leaned on my desk. My heels were killing me. “The flowers aren’t from him.”
Her face said it all. Mouth open, huge eyes.
“It’s another guy.”
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