SMELLING ROSES

Chapter Twenty-Four

Right. I was here now. There was no point in going home, but I was being naïve. Wren didn't have to take me back, and I shouldn't expect him to. After everything he did for me and everything we'd been through, I still needed to apologize. I was scared, but that wasn't good enough. He deserved to be chased.

So, I needed to think of every option available. Not give up after one try.

Uncle Ronnie picked up after the second ring. I should've thought about this hours ago. He said Wren wasn't doing too well. He left the boy he saw on stage and the musician who wrote those songs in Elk Rose. He wasn't himself.

He made Wren take the rest of the day off to find inspiration. I knew he was still out looking for it, but I didn't know enough about the area to figure out where he would look.

"I told him to go to the skate park," Uncle Ronnie said.

"Wren doesn't skate."

"Don't all white boys in L.A. skate?"

I rolled my eyes. He managed him. He should know just as much as I knew about him. "Wren's more of a walk in the park until inspiration strikes kinda guy."

"Well..." He drew the word out until the phone went silent.

"I have many talents. Mind reading isn't one of them."

"Check the park," he shouted.

He said it like it was an easy feat. There were a thousand parks in Los Angeles. With my limited money, I couldn't afford to park hop all through town to find him. I wasn't even sure if that's where he'd go, but it sounded more like him than a skate park. It was my only option.

I pulled out my phone and searched top ten lists. I would've settled for Griffith Park, but Wren would take an ax to the face before he'd hike anywhere.

After a herd of mind-numbing, repetitive reviews, I settled for Grand Park. It's where I'd go if I were him. Just enough people to not feel lonely. A mixture of excitement from tourists and the relaxation of locals. Great scenery and the home of many performances and shows. You could smell the inspiration in the air. At least, that's what one reviewer said.

The only problem? Because, of course, there always was. It closed in less than an hour.

I had no problem finding a ride, but it took longer to get there than I thought. By the time he pulled onto the side, I had fifteen minutes.

I booked it down the steps. Orange and pink flags waved alongside palm trees as the night air whistled. Families trotted back to the street, blocking my pursuit. What if he already left? What if he wasn't even here?

I pushed myself to the bottom of the steps. Pressing into the railing, I got a full view of the lower level. I watched the fountain diminished in size. As kids shuffled to their parents, the grounds cleared.

There he was. Hovering over a pink table. He scribbled on his notebook, unaware the park was closing.

I sprinted to the steps, weaving around the crowd. A flirtatious, middle-aged man overtook my steps. Every time I bobbed, he weaved.

"We gotta stop dancing like this," he winked.

"Move." I shoved him out the way and catapulted to the last level.

As the last few patrons departed from the fountain, I ran through it. I had too much power and launched right into the table. I was a panting mess, but I found him. And now that I had, I didn't know what to say.

"N-Nora?" He jumped out of his seat.

I planned my speech hours ago. I was supposed to rush to his hotel door, dramatically walk in with a bouquet of roses. I'd throw them to the ground and confess how much of an idiot I'd been. He laughed, say something witty and we'd apologize, then kiss. The sun was supposed to be shining, I was supposed to be in a different outfit, and I was supposed to feel confident. Not like this.