The Bouquet
Deep breath in... then out... And a couple more times of that... Maybe one more for good luck.
My hand was on the handle of the door, hoping I was ready to face what awaited on the other side. I could simply turn back and hide in my office. There was time yet.
I heard a crash and a shriek beyond the door. Damn. I wondered what broke this time.
I kept the cake box I picked up earlier closer to me with my other hand, and went into my apartment, not looking forward to the ensuing chaos. The mistake was-- and always would be --that I gave my Mother a copy of my apartment key. Whenever they came to the city , they would head straight to my place and make themselves feel at home.
With one foot inside the slightly ajar door, my subconscious told me that they hadn't seen me yet. I had time to leave my place. The city. The state. Head to Canada!
"Oh, finally you're here!" Too late. "Maggie, you're sister's home." My Mom yelled into the kitchen. Her petite body was halfway through it and halfway into the living room. She had a glass of wine in hand. I suspected it was the bottle a grateful client had given me, a vintage Bordeaux. I didn't know much about wine, but Chase told me that that particular one was worth a good amount of money.
I narrowed my eyes to the glass, while slipping inside my place. "Yeah, I had a meeting that ran a little too long." Not completely true. The meeting had been short, but I had kept Chase talking longer after it, knowing full well what was waiting for me here.
"Is that my cake?" Mom tucked the wineglass between her boob and her upper arm, and stretched out her hands for the Divine Delights cake box.
Eddi baked my Mom's cake, a Dulce de Leche cheesecake, every year since I had started working for him. I took the wineglass from her, avoiding any break or spillage, and handed her the box. "Eddi sends his regards." I dumped my gym bag and purse on the floor.
"What a sweet man." She had met him once, and since then, he'd been only known as the 'sweet man'.
I followed her into the kitchen where my sixteen-year old half-sister, Maggie, was lip-locked with a boy named June (His twin sister was called May). "Hey, Mags. You've got something on your face."
Maggie started chuckling while June was still sucking face with her. Oh, young love! When she was finally free, she jumped off June's lap and gave me the tightest hug. "Hey, sis! Ooooh, your hair smells like caramel."
Maggie was a lot taller than me at 5'8". She got her looks from her father, George, blond curly locks, blue eyes with specks of gold in them, and lips that could compete with Angelina Jolie's.
Mags was a sweet, girl. "Not the sharpest tool in the shed," as Mom would tell her, but she worked hard at school, and one day hoped to become a fashion designer. The only problem was that Mags inherited our mother's lack of skills and talent in arts and crafts or any sort of creativity. I got mine from my Dad.
"Same shampoo, Mags," I told her as we let go of each other. "Hey, June. I didn't know you were coming." I shot Maggie and a inquisitive look.
She grinned, walked back to her boyfriend, and draped an arm over his wide shoulders. "You don't mind, do you? He's never been here before." Cue puppy-dog face.
I rolled my eyes. "He can't sleep in the same bed with you." If I wasn't getting any, no one else in this house should! Plus they were both sixteen, and last I heard, Maggie was still a virgin.
"Of course, they're not sleeping in the same bed. June can sleep on the couch," my mother quipped, tilting the vintage bottle and pouring the expensive wine into her glass. Sigh. My mother wasn't usually a drinker except for special occasions: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, promotions, graduations, etc.
I took out a glass from the cupboard and placed it beside hers. Mom glanced my way and smiled as she poured wine into it.
"That's fine. It's a comfortable couch. I'll take out bedding for you." I stared pointedly at June, who was a boy-man of very few words. I thought I heard him grunt when he gave me a one-shoulder shrug.
Dinner, as per usual, was Chinese food at my mother's favorite restaurant, The Lucky Gato. And it was not the real Chinese food but the American Chinese: lots of grease, salt and shiny sauces. I felt bloated and fat right after. Then we headed back to the apartment for slices of cheesecake and tea. Good thing I had Torture tomorrow.
I sat on my refurbished wing-back chair across from June and Maggie, who were on the couch, twisted together in some canoodling position. They'd been dating since sixth grade. They still seemed very much in love now. I supposed Maggie was lucky to find love at an early age. The older you were, the harder it got. I could barely figure out what was going on with my "love" life at this stage. I glanced at Mom, wondering if she was still dating that man who sold her new set of tires.
Maggie and June were feeding each other cheesecake, which made me think of Levi during the cake-tasting (minus Oh-feel-yah). I had to admit that I missed him. I missed the time we had in Paris. I missed the little conversations of facts that we shared about the City of Lights. I missed both his subtle kisses and heart-stopping kisses. And I missed waking up beside him, even though those two times had been accidental.
Nothing was clear between us, no matter what everyone else said. I had yet to hear from him since the incident at the bakery. And I hadn't had the courage to contact him either.
"We best get to bed." Mom jolted me out of my thoughts. "We have an early day tomorrow." She stood and walked straight to my guest bedroom, where she and Maggie would be sleeping.
I gathered the dishes back to the kitchen. Maggie joined me at the sink, and we quietly washed up.
"Thanks for letting him stay," Maggie said as she handed me the last dessert plate.
"I wasn't going to kick him out. Where else would he go?"
"Yeah, but I'm still glad you didn't freak. I know I should have called and asked but I was afraid you'd say no." She leaned both elbows against the counter.
"Not likely. I know June. I used to babysit him and May, remember?" I laughed at the memory of lite Maggie, May and June running around my mom's garden in their diapers. "It's nice to see you guys are still going strong."
Maggie looked out into the living room. "Yeah, he's great." Then she turned her sights back to me. "How about you? Got over Jake?"
I was shocked by her question. And since I had so many things to say on the matter and couldn't decide which one to go with first, I laughed. And laughed. I doubled over, trying to get my bearings back.
"Shît, are you okay?" Maggie was concerned, probably thinking her older sister had gone cuckoo.
"Yeah, sorry. Sorry." I reached for the little kitchen chair in the corner. "I guess I haven't talked to you in a while." I recounted the whole wedding details with Maggie. Needless to say, she was shocked and awed. I did skip the parts with Levi. My heart was still raw and unsure of those memories and of the man himself.
"I am going on a date tomorrow with my trainer," I said, remembering what I should be looking forward to. "He's super hot. Great bod. Sexy smile."
Maggie's eyes widened. "That's good... maybe he's your June!"
Ah, the heart and hopes of a young woman in love. I nodded with a small smile on my lips, but my thoughts weren't filled with Diego.
****
Fisherman's Wharf was buzzing with people even with the thick fog hanging over us. Every year we came for the funky atmosphere, the delicious clam chowder and homemade ice cream. Even now as i consider San Fran my home, it was hard not to succumb to the lively tourist spot. Afterwards, we head to the Ferry Place Market to gloss over the goods sold. I had gotten to know quite a few of them, often reaching out for several events I had previously ran.
After lunch, the fog started clearing and the blue sky was ready to make an appearance. I was checking out handmade jewelries in a small open-air shopwhen Maggie sidled up to me.
"Hey, I think you have a stalker."
"Hmmm?" My attention was on a sterling silver cuff with intricate patterns.
"I said I think you have a stalker," Maggie repeated. I looked up to her, and she pointed to my left. "There!"
I squinted my eyes past the flower stalls. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary." I tuned back to Maggie.
She had a hand over her forehead, blocking her eyes from the sun. "I think he left. Or maybe he's hiding. I saw him a few times a while back. I didn't think he was following us because there's a lot of people here, but he kept staring at you."
"A man? Staring at me?" Maggie had way better vision than I did. I tried to focus past the stores and stalls where we had passed by, but still didn't see anything that stood out. "What did he look like?"
"Tall. Hot. He was wearing a button-up shirt and jeans, I think. And a leather jacket."
I dropped the cuff back on the table and moved away from the shop, taking Maggie with me. June and my mom were looking at some metallic items across the way. "What do you mean hot? Details." I urged her with a wave of a hand.
Maggie contemplated before answering, "Hot, like good looking. I dunno. Brownish hair."
"Long?"
"Ish."
"Beard?"
"Clean-shaven."
My heart started that quick tattoo that often happened when I thought of a certain someone.
"Sunglasses?"
"Nah, just regular glasses."
I knitted my brows together. Levi didn't wear glasses. "Are you sure?"
Maggie lifted a brow at me. "I think I can tell the difference between sunglasses and not. Do you know him?"
Did I? I wasn't too sure. What could I tell Maggie? That I wished it was the same guy who I had been thinking of, and who possibly had feelings for me? That I had woken up beside him twice after drunken binges? Not exactly the type of stuff one would tell a sixteen-year old, regardless of her experience. I wasn't aiming for 'Sister of the Year' award, but I'd still like to set a good example.
"Is he the guy you're going on a date with tonight?"
If only the man in my mind was the same one as I would be having dinner with. "Nope. It's probably not even who I think it is." I dismissively waved a hand, but my heartbeat stayed errant. "Uhm, Mags... was he with someone?" Like a tall, brunette, possibly VS Angel?
"No, just him. Are you sure you're okay, sis? You look a bit flushed." Maggie gazed at me with a knowing smile and a glint in her eyes. She was quite entertained.
I glanced the way she had pointed again just in case the stranger befitting the description decided to appear once more. No one looked familiar.
"We better get Mom away from that."I pointed at our mother picking up a round item that resembled a shield inside the shop across the way. Maggie hurried to them, stopping Mom from paying the man for the shield. I told myself that one more glance back wouldn't hurt, but the throngs of people had doubled, making it impossible for me to look farther for a man who looked like a stalker.
As soon as I disposed of-- I meant --bade farewell to my family and June, I dropped by the office to sign some documents and pick up the only designer shoes I owned.
"What are you doing here?" There was no escaping Chase, not even when tiptoeing around her. "You have a date in two hours?" Hands on her hips, she chastised me.
I halted my steps and twisted round to face her. "Relax. I forgot my shoes here. You know those painful ones you force me to wear all the time?"
Chase placed her hands over my shoulders. "That's the cost of beauty sometimes. You should see my bunions. They're the size of the moon."
"Ew." I wriggled out of her grip and walked to where I kept my shoes. I paused at the door upon seeing the large bouquet of flowers on my desk. "Julie, what's this?"
Julie peeked from the document she was typing. "Delivered earlier. After lunch."
"Card?"
"Didn't check."
Chase moved forward, examining the beautiful arrangement of every flower ever existed (or close to it). "I didn't see this come in. I don't see a card."
"No card?" Looking at the bouquet, I named all the flowers I knew in my head, from garden variety round bulbs of pink peonies and white ranunculus to the more exotic yellow and purple lady slipper orchids. "Who would send me flowers without a card?"
"Maybe it's from DD!" Chase's grin went from ear to ear.
I smiled at the thought, but a small tag hanging off a ribbon caught my attention. I pulled it out and stared at it. It had an emblem of a flower vendor at Ferry Place. Could my mystery stalker have sent me flowers? Which meant he knew where I worked!
I didn't know what was better: Levi following me around and not bother saying a thing to me, or a complete stranger possibly stalking me, then having either one sending me a romantic, grand arrangement of flowers.
****
At exactly 6:55pm, Diego knocked on my door. I opened to greet the debonair man in a collared shirt, light blue v-neck sweater and dark jeans. He completed the look with a navy blue blazer, a white handkerchief folded neatly in the breast pocket. I was truly attracted to this man, physically, but when he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, I felt a little quiver and a stab of guilt.
I blinked my eyes, thinking that it would be enough to erase that last unwelcome feeling. It wasn't. "Hi."
"You look..." He swept his eyes over me. "Wow."
I blushed, most likely the same color as the tight dress I was wearing (that Chase insisted on but I must admit I rocked in). "And you don't look half bad."
"I know it's a bit of a change from my usual trainers and gym clothes." Which he never looked bad in, either. "Shall we?"
"I just need to grab my coat. Why don't you come in?" I let Diego close the door behind him.
It was awkward having a man standing by my door. I didn't date much. Jake and I hadn't gone out as much due to time constraints and our never-ending responsibilities. Even the few blind dates that Chase had arranged before met with me at a previously agreed-upon location.
After grabbing my clutch from my dresser, I went through my scarf drawer (yes, I had one, so should everybody else) to pick something that would both compliment my dress and keep my neck warm. My breathing faltered when I immediately spotted the Pucci scarf that Levi had given me. Like a ticking time bomb, I went around it carefully and pulled a black silk cashmere blend instead. I breathed a sigh as I wrapped the scarf around my neck, and walked out of my bedroom to meet my very hot date. And noted the slow ascending beat of my heart from seeing the Pucci scarf.
Diego was such a gentleman. He helped me shrug into my coat, opened the car door for me, twice, held out his hand when I stepped out of it, and kept my hand around the crook of his elbow while we walked. Whoever said chivalry was dead had not met Diego. He smelled incredible too. He didn't have his usual coconut scent but a more appealing, more masculine one.
"So, where are we going?" I asked as we walked slowly.
"Do you like French?"
If I had been drinking something, I would have sputtered and spat all over the place. Or if we had been walking faster, I would have fallen on my ass. French? Was he kidding me? I looked at his polite smile. He was serious. "Yeah. Sounds great."
We arrived shortly at La Mer. Thankfully, it didn't resemble anything like the restaurants I had visited in Paris. That would have done me in completely.
Diego greeted every staff who came our way. The restaurant was busy, but everyone, including the chef made an appearance at our table. Diego, ever the gentleman, introduced me to every single one of them. They all seemed ecstatic of my presence.
"Do you work here?" I asked Diego when Chef Jean-Luc left.
He laughed that delightful, hearty laugh. "I don't. Not anymore. I used to be a sous-chef when I first moved here." So he cooked too!
"You're not from San Fran?"
Diego took a sip of water. "'Fraid not. I was born in Atlanta, then I moved around a lot with my family when I was younger. Military brat. "He pointed at himself. "I lived in Georgia again before moving here."
"Oh, nice. What brought you here?"
Luciano, our server, brought us a bottle that Chef Jean-Luc recommended. Diego did the wine thing (checking label, swirling, tasting, making faces) before nodding at Luciano.
"I didn't know you were a wine connoisseur," I observed.
"I'm not." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "I pretended I knew what I was doing to try and impress you. Can you keep a secret?" I nodded, then he glanced around. "I cheated on my sommelier test."
My eyes bugged out of my head. "I promise not to tell." Hot, sexy, can cook and funny? This date had promise. I'd be stupid not to enjoy it.
Satisfied, Diego sat back. "Love."
What? "Pardon me?"
"You asked me what brought me here." Oh, yeah. "It was love."
Wasn't he the most adorable man that ever existed? "What happened?"
Diego sucked on the bottom of his lip before answering, and pulled on his left ear. He was clearly uncomfortable. "Life happened, I suppose."
"Hmmmm." What else could I say? First dates could be awful with awkward chit-chats. Time to change direction. "Thanks for the flowers, by the way." Yeah, I went there.
Immediately, I knew it hadn't come from him from the shocked expression on his face. "Flowers?" he asked, with the corner of his lips tilted.
"I received a bouquet of flowers this afternoon at work." Why didn't I stick to that first awkward topic?
Diego shook his head, still smiling. "I wish I had thought of that. I'm a little rusty with dating."
I picked up my wineglass, and slowly swirled the clear liquid in it. "You? Rusty? That's hardly believable." His eyebrow shot up. "Have you seen yourself lately? Don't act all humble. You think all the girls in Torture go there for fun. And don't include Chase. She does it for fun."
He probably had a good come back for me but Luciano brought an amuse-bouche, a lobster-topped choux pastry-- creamy, flaky and so yum!
"So, who is it?"
"Who?" I asked, taking a sip of wine.
"Who sent the flowers?"
Whatever wine I had left in my mouth sputtered out a bit. Sexy. "What made you think I knew who sent them?"
Diego chuckled, pouring a bit more wine into my glass. "When I told you I didn't send them, your eyes got all... squinty."
"Squinty?"
Diego played with his napkin on the table. "I'm going to level with you, Nica." He looked me right in the eyes, folding his hands on top of his napkin. "I think you're great. You're smart, accomplished, talented and you're beautiful."
"I don't know about that," I said, looking down on my fingers.
He reached and tilted my chin up, forcing my eyes to look at him. "You are... As I said before I came to San Francisco for love. My fiancée, ex-fiancée, found a job here and I followed her. I was never a believer of long distance relationships, you see." He paused, laughing at something I didn't quite catch. "I know I'm breaking a lot of rules here talking about past relationships during a first date."
I straightened on my chair. "So you've been briefed by Chase too?" We both chuckled at that.
Luciano reappeared to serve us fresh baguette and our appetizers of rilette of rabbit and salmon terrine. I was starving and the smell of food made me realize it. I waited for Diego to start but he urged me with an offer of bread. It wasn't Paris food but it was close enough and were great compliments to the wine.
"Marissa, my ex, had a great job at a marketing company. She was doing well. And I wasn't. If you can believe, I also didn't look like this back then. I loved food too much. Way too much. I didn't exercise, I smoked , I drank a lot too. I was working here when Marissa left me for another man."
I cleared my throat for fear that I would choke on rabbit and bread. "I... don't know what to say."
Diego smiled but it didn't nearly reach his eyes. "She said I wasn't going anywhere, that I wouldn't amount to anything. She said that if I couldn't even take care of myself, how could I ever take care of her?" No matter how long that had been, there was still hurt in his voice.
My mouth went dry. A confident, handsome-as-sin man was pouring his heart out to me. All I had to offer back was, "Is that why you look like this now?"
Thankfully, he thought I was being funny. "That would be a no. I did this for myself. This was where I was getting at." Chocolate brown eyes mesmerized me. "I didn't change for her. I didn't change for what she said. I woke up one day and asked myself what I had done to me. Not to her. I did to me and I changed for me." He reached for my hand and squeezed. "This guy who brought you flowers, was he the reason why you came to my class?"
"Maybe?"
"He broke your heart?"
I shrugged. "Not exactly."
"Is he worth it? The change? The process? The pain?" I nodded, then shook my head and nodded again. "You change only for you, if you want to. You don't change for any man. But I'm curious about him. Tell me."
And as faux pas as it was, I babbled about a man during a first date with another, over our lovely prepared dinner and wine, and minus the gritty details (the whole world didn't need to know my foibles). Over our shared dessert of creme brûlée and coffee, I told him about the the possible stalker and the flowers.
"Creepy and creative." I laughed at Diego's comment. "When I said your eyes became squinty I felt I knew that look. You obviously think about him enough. My friends used to tell me that too when I thought of Marissa. For him, the flowers said a lot. He knows you're smart. He knows you'll figure out they're from him. Ball's in your court now, girl."
I nibbled on the tip of my teaspoon. "Damn. You're right," I admitted, huffing out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry about this date."
"I'm not. I got to spend a wonderful dinner with a wonderful girl. It just so happens her heart already belongs to someone else."
Double dámn. Why couldn't my heart beat erratically for him?
The chef came out again and thanked us for coming to his bustling restaurant. I kept his card for future references. I'd never know when I would need a great French chef. After saying goodbye, Diego and I walked out La Mer the same way we came in, with my arm wrapped around his.
There was a chill in the air, and it smelled like rain was about to pour. I snuggled closer to Diego and he kept me warm. It felt like I found a new friend. A new hot and sexy friend. If only I were the type of girl who kept friends with benefits...
We almost reached his car when up ahead I saw a familiar figure heading our way. I stopped short, not knowing what to say or do and gripping Diego's arm like it was my lifesaver.
****
A/N: Who do you think was "stalking" Nica? Who sent the flowers? Who could this person be that she's about to cross paths with?
Thanks for reading and voting! Comments are a plus!
I might post two chapters next week. Stay tuned :)