31. Chapter Thirty-One

"Coop, in my office! Now!"

"Fuck." I stop and close my eyes as I set down the coffee pot on the counter just inside the kitchen. "Chuck, can you take that pie to table three?"

"Sure, man."

"Thanks."

The lunch rush is almost over, but I'm not sure I'm going to have a job at the end of my shift today. Mel's summoning is probably to tell me just that. I've definitely fucked up too many times to count, and it stopped being amusing about an hour ago, when I dropped an entire tray filled with plates and drinks as I was on my way out into the dining room.

It's fucking bad. I'm a total mess.

And it's even more shitty because it's Friday, and I've always really, really counted on Fridays to bring in good tip money. This morning was great, but after that, not so much. And now, I'm pretty sure I'm fucked.

I try to stop the string of curses running through my head as I turn and make my way to Mel's office. She's sitting at her desk and rifling through a drawer, but she stops when I enter.

"Shut the door and sit."

Shit, she's actually angry. Her tone gives that away.

I nod and then do as she says, closing the door and taking the seat across from her. She's quiet for a minute, and when I finally bring myself to look up, she's watching me with some concerned expression. I look away again.

"I have to go out of town next week. Monday and Tuesday," Mel says. "Clara's going to cover mornings and the early afternoon, but we're going to have to close at about two for both of those days. She can't handle a full day plus all the dinner prep."

Chuck had swapped shifts with me for those days since he's got some appointments or something, so I'm scheduled to work both of those nights next week, and Mel knows it. Also, what the fuck? I can't remember the last time the diner had any sort of unscheduled closure.

I look up, and she's still watching me, but I can't read her expression anymore. "Is everything okay?"

"Fuck no." Mel laughs, but it's almost sardonic. She leans back in her chair, shaking her head. "My fucking brother went and got himself arrested for god knows what. Illegal possession of a firearm or some shit. And his wife, Laney, was just hospitalized because of pneumonia. My sister's there, but, ah, fuck, I'm not even sure. I've gotta go help. There's some hearing, and they're hoping I can help get Dan out on bail or something and make sure Laney's okay. It's the whole fucking mess I've been dealing with since last week. I was hoping everything could get taken care of over the phone, but I guess I'm not that fucking lucky."

Fuck. No wonder Mel's been in a mood.

She's paused for a moment and is sitting forward in her chair now. Her brow furrows. "I know that's going to affect your shifts on Monday and Tuesday, so I needed to give you a heads up on that."

Well, I guess at least I'm not getting fired? But I really, really need those shifts.

Mel's still watching me, and she's scowling now—her normal expression. It's almost comforting.

"I can do the morning shifts—"

"I tried that already. Chuck won't give up either of his shifts. I asked him earlier," she cuts in.

"Right, okay." Wonderful. Just icing on the fucking cake. "Um, anything else? I need to get back to—"

"Yeah, there's more."

Ah, fuck, maybe I am fired after all. I shut my mouth and lower my eyes to my hands. Fuck, I can't lose this job.

"Shit, Mel, I'm sorry. Today's just totally fucked-up. I'll get my act together. Please don't—"

"—fuckin' fire you?" When I look back up at her, her head's cocked sideways a bit, and her scowl's been replaced by another of those concerned looks. "I'm not going to fire you, Coop. Fuck, I couldn't run this place without you. But I'm...starting to get worried about you. What the fuck's going on?"

What the fuck, indeed. Where do I start? I could tell her everything, and she'd probably sit here and listen. I could tell her the love of my life came back to me after nearly ten years. I could tell her how he made me these huge promises, how I gave him my heart, and then how he just... walked out the door. I could tell her I've been trying to let myself believe his words, believe him when he said he'll be back.

I could tell her all of that.

But all I can feel is the intense, stabbing pain of uncertainty in my chest. And suddenly, I really don't want to tell anyone anything at all. Even Mel.

God, my heart fucking hurts.

I let out a short breath and lower my eyes again. "It's nothing, Mel. I'm just fine."

"Fuck, kiddo, you don't have to lie to me. In fact, when the fuck have you ever lied to me?" Yeah, I don't think I have. I close my eyes as she continues. "I know this isn't nothing, and I know you're not fine... And that's okay. It's okay to not be fine. Fuck, I'm not fine right now either. But I do need you to pull it together, or I'm gonna have to send your ass home early, and I really don't want to have to do that."

I feel small and maybe a little sick to my stomach. She's right. She's fucking right. I'm not fine. But I also cannot let her send me home, which means I do have to pull myself together. Fuck.

"Sorry, Mel, you're right. And I'll—I'll do my best to stop fucking up. I'm sorry, I—"

There's a quiet knock at the door, and it inches open, Clara's kind eyes landing on me as she pokes her head in. There's something in her expression that I can't quite place, and she smiles.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Coop, you've got a delivery," she says. She glances at Mel, and her grin widens a little.

"I thought all the deliveries came this morning?" I ask, and I scoot my chair back and stand. "Was there something else not on the list?"

"No," Clara says. She opens the door all the way and sort of motions to me. "Not that kind of delivery."

I'm thoroughly confused, and my head and heart are still reeling and torn and broken or whatever the fuck they are. But when Mel gives me a nod, which I suppose means I'm not fired and I don't have to head home early—yet—I follow Clara out through the kitchen and into the dining room.

"Hey, Coop!"

Kate from the flower shop just a mile or so down the road is standing at the counter, a clipboard in her hand. And next to her, there's this huge arrangement of what has to be dozens of dark-red roses set in a clear glass vase.

"H-hey, Kate. Um . . ."

Kate's grinning from ear to ear now, and I hear the kitchen door open behind me, followed by some muffled exclamation of Mel's. Clara's still right next to me, and she sets her hand on my arm.

"I've got a delivery for you. I just need you to sign here," Kate says, and she offers me the clipboard, pointing to a line at the bottom of the page. Or something. I'm not entirely sure what's going on.

Flowers? Not just flowers, though. Red roses. And they're beautiful. Huge, full blooms, each of them almost identical.

I can't seem to breathe for a moment.

"Wh-what, uh, what is . . . ?"

"They're flowers, silly," Clara whispers, and she squeezes my arm.

"Yeah, I-I know that, but..." I look down at the clipboard that's somehow now in my hands, and it says my name there.

My chest feels tight.

They're flowers. Roses. For me. They're roses for me.

"Who...?" It's a fucking dumb question. Who else? But my brain can't seem to wrap around it.

Kate smiles and then turns the vase just a little. There's a small white card tucked in between two of the blooms. "The card will probably tell you," she says.

I think I'm shaking, and that makes signing my name just challenging enough to momentarily distract me. When I finish, I hand Kate back the clipboard. Then I step closer and reach out to pick up the card, and everything around me sort of fades into the background.

My name is on the envelope, and I run my fingers over it. His handwriting? God, I wouldn't even know. I don't recognize it. But somehow, I do know. It's like I can feel that he'd held this in his hand not more than, what, four hours ago?

I can't open it though. Not here. Or, not yet.

I look up, and Kate's standing there, watching me with a soft smile. Clara's hand isn't on my arm anymore, but she's right next to me, and Mel's hanging out in the doorway to the kitchen. And when I let my gaze drift around the room, I see the few customers still remaining after the lunch rush all staring at me. All curious and shit.

I blink several times and then take a deep breath, though it doesn't really steady me like I'd hoped. "Uh, thanks for... this. I've gotta get back to work now, but, uh, yeah... thanks, Kate. I appreciate..."

My heart suddenly clenches as I feel an echo of Josh's touch—his lips on mine, his fingers warm on my cheek, his hand on my chest—and I just can't wait. I turn around so I'm facing away from everyone and tear open the envelope. The card inside is plain white, like the envelope, but has a watercolor image of a delicate red rose in full bloom on the front.

And a note on the inside.

The handwriting is neat, forming clear words that I read slowly. And then read again.

Coop,

Leaving this morning was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I can't tell you how much I'm wishing I didn't have to, how much I'm wishing I could have just stayed. But I hope you believe me when I say it's a lot. A whole lot.

I don't know how much you heard earlier or how much I actually managed to say, but here's the reason I have to leave: Brenna needs me to take her home. She's one of my best friends, and she's struggling emotionally now because of me—because I screwed up. She needs to get back to Omaha, and she's not comfortable driving herself right now. If it was anyone other than Brenna, I swear I wouldn't go. But she needs me to do this, and I have to be there for her. That's the only reason I'm leaving. The ONLY reason.

I promise you this, Coop—I'll be back as soon as I possibly can. Every minute away from you is a minute too long. I will not abandon you. I will not mess this up. I can't. I love you too much to let that happen again.

I'm so, so sorry, and I hope you've read this far and that you believe me. I know I screwed up ten years ago. And I'm promising you now, again, that I will NOT do that a second time.

I'll call you when I get to Omaha, hopefully before your break is over. I hope you answer, because I already miss you.

Love always,

Josh

Fuck. I mean . . . fuck.

I close the card, and I swear I'm not fucking crying. Really.

"Coop, are you okay?" Clara is still right next to me, and fuck, everyone in the whole dining room is probably watching. Shit.

I nod quickly and clear my throat as I blink to keep the tears from falling. I'm not gonna fucking cry. My heart is about to burst, though, and my hands are trembling, making it hard for me to put the card back in the envelope.

"Yeah, I'm... fine. I'm fine. I'm—what time is it?"

"Almost two," Clara says softly.

And I nod again. Then, because I am fucking crying, I wipe the tears off my cheeks before I turn back around, keeping my head down. "Thanks, Kate. I, um, appreciate this. A lot."

"Of course, Coop. Have a great day," Kate says, and then she's gone.

The dining room is still too quiet, and I'm not sure what to do now, except that I can't leave the flowers sitting here on the counter.

"Fuck, he bought me flowers." I don't mean to say the words out loud, but I do it anyway, and there's quiet laughter next to me.

"They're beautiful," Clara whispers with some sort of wistful sigh. She pats me on the arm and then disappears back into the kitchen.

I'm still standing there staring at them when Mel steps up to my side. I glance over at her, and she's looking up at me with eyes that remind me so much of my mom for just this brief flicker of a moment. Then she arches her eyebrows.

"Thought I told you to get back to work," she says, and I think she's trying to be all stern, but her voice cracks a little. And then she blinks, like I had a moment before, and I fucking swear her eyes are glistening.

I cough, and my fingers fiddle with the card in my hands. "Yeah. Of course. Um, sorry for the disruption."

There's a laugh—her normal grumpy laugh—and then she does this thing she's never done before where she wraps one arm around my waist and gives me a half sort of side hug. And fuck, I'm crying again.

"The flowers are nice, but get them the fuck off my counter and get back to work or you're fuckin' fired," she says. "Your break isn't for another ten minutes, and you've got tables waiting."

I close my eyes as some emotional laugh or something escapes me. Then I'm sniffling and wiping another tear off my cheek. Shit. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

Mel spins around and is gone, and I'm left there, wondering what the fuck I should do now. I glance back down at the card in my hands.

Every minute away from you is a minute too long.

God. My heart aches. I miss him so fucking much. Every minute is a minute too long.

It's all so overwhelming—all of yesterday and then this morning, now red roses and I love yous. I don't know what I'm going to do when he calls, but I do know that I need to hear his voice. And I need to hear him tell me again...

I've got another ten minutes before my break, and there's no more room for flailing around. I slip the card into the back pocket of my jeans and then carefully lift the vase and carry it through the kitchen into the empty office.

And I get back to work.