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The sweet fragrance, full and overpowering, invaded her senses like the memories flashing through her head. Chill bumps covered every inch of her body.
Shayla knew better than to send roses, especially on her birthday, so did, Sara. Even her father would never cross that line.
Carrie A
I’m teaching Drew how to ask a woman out on a date…Properly
I miss you, Red
Have di
Happy birthday
Summer
Her chin quivered as the gash in her heart tore a little deeper, stealing the air from her lungs. Tears caught at the rim of her lashes as a hot wave of shame, unexpected and unwanted, washed over her. Tremors wracked her body, staring at the blur of red laid atop the dark wooden table.
Carrie A
She didn’t know how long she sat, crumpled in a ball weeping, staring at the bouquet before hearing another knock at the door. Moving to her feet in a daze, she gaped out the peephole. It didn’t do any good, she couldn’t see through the blur of wetness.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me! Open up birthday girl!” Shayla chimed cheerfully.
Unable to think clearly, Carrie A
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Shayla dropped her purse to the floor, grabbing her by the shoulders taking close inspection.
Carrie A
“What is it?” Worry saturated Shayla’s tone.
Carrie A
Looking down at the card crumpled between her fingers, she motioned wildly toward the roses shoving the card toward Shayla. “Fucking, Summer.”
“Oh.” Shayla’s eyes widened in shock and then instantly tapered into a cringe. “Oh shit.”
Carrie A
“Aww. Come here.”
“And it’s today, Shay. Of all the fucking days he could do this shit me?” She struggled to keep the hurt out of her voice.
Shayla swayed back and forth, soothing her breakdown as if she were a small child. Her arms, heavy and encumbered, dropped to her sides in defeat.
After a moment of comforting, she said softly, “Carrie A
“I…know… but it had to be…roses? On my birthday?” Words came in fits, sucking deep breaths of air through her open mouth.
“I’m so sorry.” Shayla led her to the living room, tossing a few colorful pillows to the corner of the modern cube-like white sofa, encouraging Carrie A
Dropping her head back, she released an anxiety filled huff of air. The coolness of the leather brought relief to her heated skin. Carrie A
“You wa
Carrie A
“You want a glass a wine?” she asked eventually, already heading for the kitchen. “Or how about a Cosmo?”
“Definitely a Cosmo.”
Listening to Shayla rummage through the liquor cabinet, her breathing began returning to normal.
“You’re almost out of Cointreau.” Shayla informed conversationally. Her soft voice holding notes of compassion. She knew better than to push the Do you want to talk about it? It was a subject that had been tabled for years.
Carrie A
Shayla peered beneath the contemporary cabinets floating above the granite top kitchen island. The concern stretching across her face moderated. “So, does this mean we can talk about it?”
Her head tilted in the barest twitch of a nod.
“You’re not really surprised by this, are you? It’s not like he hasn’t tried to reach out to you a few times,” Shayla affirmed loudly over the ice tumbling in the shaker.
“Yeah, I know, but it’s usually a very wishful-thinking 2:00am booty call…not a date.”
Shayla rounded the kitchen corner. Her eyes widened in a questioning ma
“What’s that look supposed to mean?”
“It means…you know damned well Summer doesn’t call you in the middle of the night for a booty call. Not that he doesn’t have an obsession with your ass, but we both know that’s not why he calls.”
Carrie A
“You put it on the table. I’m just keeping it real, my friend.” Her tone wavered between empathy and logic.
“Seriously, Shayla. Every time I’m around the man it takes less than five minutes for me to want to grab him by the balls for one reason or another.”
Shayla’s brow raised to a defined point of inquiry. “And that reason would be?”
“To inflict an unbearable amount of discomfort.” Tight crinkles scrunched and contorted across her forehead. The fingers of her non-cocktail hand curled around the corners of the pillow, squeezing into a tight fist.
“And the other reason?”
Carrie A
“Apparently.” Shayla batted her lashes.
“He has that, that…that thing he does.”
“Breathing?”
“He pisses me off beyond belief.” Implosion was now eminent. “Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! He exerts this…this aura of possession. He has some nerve walking straight up into my space, touching my hair, sending me flowers.”
“Personally, I just don’t think he can help it.”
She ignored the sappiness. “I have a hard time concentrating around him. I haven’t been laid in months and my hooha is the most disloyal bitch on the face of the earth.” Carrie A
“You know how much I love you, right?” she questioned warily.
Her mouth gaped open and snapped shut. “What? Are you taking his side now?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just, you’re both two of my favorite people in the world. Maybe—”
“Fuck me,” she growled indignantly. “You are taking his side.”
“I am not taking his side, Carrie A
“Then what? Maybe I should what, Shayla? Give him another chance? Is that what you were about to say?”
Silence.
The silence was deafening.
“It’s just…” Her voice softened to a whisper, strumming a chord of motherly intuition. “I simply think you need to get a few things off your chest.”
Shayla refused to take sides, staking claim to Switzerland a decade ago. Carrie A
“I can’t believe you think I should go on a date with him.”