Bed of Roses

Chapter Eighteen

Five minutes after Emma got home, Mac came through the door.

“I waited until he left,” Mac called out as she climbed the stairs. “That’s herculean restraint.” She scowled when she walked into Emma’s bedroom. “You’re unpacking. Putting everything away. I hate this level of efficiency. Why can’t at least one of you be a slob like me?”

“You’re not a slob. You’re just a bit relaxed with your personal space.”

“Hey, I like that. Relaxed with my personal space. Okay, enough about me. Tell me all. I left my own lover to his lonely bowl of corn flakes.”

With last night’s dress in her hands, Emma spun a happy circle. “It was fabulous. Every minute.”

“Deets, deets, deets.”

“An elegant French restaurant, champagne, a suite at the Waldorf.”

“God, that’s all so you. Snazzy date wise. Casual date-wise, maybe moonlight picnic at the beach, red wine, candles tucked into little shells.”

Emma closed her empty suitcase. “Why aren’t I dating you?”

“We’d make a lovely couple, it’s true.” Draping an arm over Emma’s shoulder, Mac turned to the mirror and studied—Emma in her trim jeans and soft shirt, and herself in the cotton pants and T-shirt she’d slept in. “Stunning, really. Well, we can keep it in reserve if things don’t work out otherwise.”

“Always good to have a backup. Oh, God, Mac, it was the most perfect night.” She turned, squeezed Mac into a hug before doing another spin. “We didn’t sleep. At all. It’s amazing, really, that we have so much to talk about, to find out about each other still. We talked all through dinner, then took a long walk. And he’d had them bring up champagne and light candles, put on music.”

“Wow.”

“We drank more champagne and we talked, and we made love. It was so romantic.” On a humming sound, she closed her eyes, hugged herself. “Then we talked and drank more champagne, and we made love again. We had breakfast by candlelight and—”

“Made love again.”

“We did. We drove home through horrible traffic with the top down, and the traffic didn’t matter. Nothing did. Nothing could.” She gave herself another hug. “Mac? I’m a happy person most of the time.”

“Yeah, it can be annoying.”

“I know, but too bad. Anyway, I’m a happy person, but I never knew I could be this happy. I didn’t know I could feel like this. Like I just want to jump and dance and spin and sing. Like Julie Andrews on a mountaintop.”

“Okay, but don’t do that because that’s seriously annoying.”

“I know, so I’m only doing it on the inside. All the times I imagined what it would be like to be crazy in love, I never knew.”

She dropped down on the bed, grinned up at the ceiling. “Do you feel this way all the time? With Carter?”

Mac flopped down beside her. “I never thought I’d be in love. Not really. I never imagined it the way you always did, or looked for it. In some ways it snuck up on me, and in others it fell on me like a ton of bricks. It’s still a shock to the system to realize I have this inside me—not the spinning and singing part, because even inside it would annoy me. But I’ve got the jumping and dancing going on. And somebody has it inside for me. Talk about shocking.”

Emma reached out to take Mac’s hand. “I don’t know if Jack has it back for me, not the way I do for him. But I know he cares. I know he feels. And I have so much, Mac. I have to believe all this love I have will . . . take root, I guess. I thought I loved him before, but now I think that was a kind of infatuation mixed up inside lust. Because this is different.”

“Can you tell him?”

“I would’ve said no, even a couple of days ago. Don’t want to ruin anything, don’t want to tip the scales. Actually did say no when Parker and I talked about it. But now I think I can. I think I should. I just have to figure out how and when.”

“It scared me, when Carter told me he loved me. Don’t be upset if it scares him a little, at least at first.”

“I don’t think you tell someone you love them because you expect something. I think you tell them because you have something to give.”

“You unpack as soon as you get home from a trip. You have a happy nature. And you’re wise about love. I’m surprised the three of us haven’t ganged up and beaten the hell out of you regularly.”

“You can’t. You love me.”

Mac turned so they faced each other. “We do. I’m pulling for you, Em. We all are.”

“Then how can I go wrong?”

The knock interrupted Emma halfway through processing the morning delivery. Grumbling only a little, she left the flowers holding. She winced when she saw Kathryn Seaman and her sister through the glass. Wet and messy weren’t ways to impress important clients.

Trapped, she fixed an easy smile on her face and opened the door. “Mrs. Seaman, Mrs. Lattimer, how nice to see you.”

“I apologize for dropping in on you this way, but Jessica and her girls decided on the bridesmaids’ dresses. I wanted to bring you the swatch of the material.”

“That’s perfect. Please come in. Can I get you something to drink? Maybe some sun tea? It’s a warm day.”

“I’d love some,” Adele said immediately. “If it’s no bother.”

“Not at all. Why don’t you sit down, be comfortable? I’ll just be a minute.”

Tea, Emma thought as she hurried into the kitchen. Lemon slices, the good glasses. Crap, crap. A little plate of cookies. Thank God for Laurel’s emergency tin. She scrambled everything onto a tray, shoved at her hair.

She pulled her emergency lip gloss out of a kitchen drawer, glided some on, then pinched her cheeks.

As that was the best she could manage under the circumstances, she took two deep breaths to make sure she looked un-rushed. She strolled back in to find both women wandering her greeting area.

“Kate told me what a pretty setup you had here. She was right.”

“Thank you.”

“And your private rooms are upstairs?”

“Yes. It’s not only convenient, but very comfortable.”

“I noticed your partner—Mackensie—is expanding her studio.”

“Yes.” Emma poured the tea, then continued to stand as neither woman seemed inclined to sit. “Mac’s getting married this December, and they’ll need more room in their private space, so they’re expanding the studio space as well.”

“Isn’t that exciting?” Sipping tea, Adele continued to wander, fluffing at flowers, studying photos. “Planning a wedding for one of your own.”

“It really is. We’ve all been friends since we were children.”

“I noticed the photo here. Is that you, and two of your partners?”

“Yes, Laurel and Parker. We loved playing Wedding Day,” Emma told her as she smiled at the photo. “I was the bride that day, and Mac, in a glimpse of the future, official photographer. She’ll tell you it was that moment—the blue butterfly moment—when she knew she wanted to be a photographer.”

“It’s charming.” Kathryn turned to Emma. “We’ve interrupted your work, and are taking up entirely too much of your time.”

“It’s always lovely to have an unexpected break.”

“I hope you mean that,” Adele put in, “because I’m dying to see where you work. Are you arranging today? Making bouquets?”

“Ah . . . actually I’m processing a morning delivery, which is why I’m a little messy.”

“I’m shameless, and I’m going to ask if I can see where you work.”

“Oh. Of course.” She shot a look at Kathryn. “Don’t panic.”

“I’ve seen where you work.”

“Yes, but not while I was working,” Emma pointed out as she led the way. “Processing is . . . Well, as you can see.” She gestured to her work counter.

“Just look at the flowers!” Flushed with excitement, Adele moved forward. “Oh, and smell the peonies.”

“The bride’s favorite,” Emma told her. “We’ll be using this wonderful rich red for her bouquet, contrasted with the bold pinks down to the palest blush. It’ll be hand-tied with wine-colored ribbon and candy pink studs. The attendants will carry smaller versions, in the pinks.”

“And you keep them in these buckets?”

“In a solution that hydrates and feeds. It’s an important step to keep them fresh, and to help them last after the event. I’ll keep them in the cooler until we’re ready to start designing.”

“How do you—”

“Adele.” Kathryn clucked her tongue. “You’re interrogating again.”

“All right, all right. I’m full of questions, I know. But I’m very serious about launching a wedding planning company in Jamaica.” Nodding, Adele scanned the area again. “It seems you have a perfect arrangement here, so there’s little hope in luring you away.”

“But I’m happy to answer questions. Still, for an overview of a business model, Parker’s your girl.”

“We’re going to get out of your way.” Kathryn reached in her bag. “The swatch.”

“Oh, what a beautiful color. Like a spring leaf through a drop of dew. Perfect for a fairy-tale wedding.” She turned to her display and chose a white silk tulip. “See how the white just gleams against this watery green?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. As soon as the final designs are approved, we’ll send you the sketches. Thank you, Emma, for the time.”

“We’re all here to make certain Jessica has the perfect day.”

“You see.” Adele poked her sister’s arm. “That’s exactly the sort of attitude I want to offer. In fact, I think The Perfect Day would be a wonderful name for the business.”

“I like it,” Emma told her.

“If you change your mind, you’ve got my card,” she reminded Emma. “I’ll promise you ten percent over what you make annually now.”

“I’m trying not to be annoyed she’d try to steal you. Again.” Parker slipped off her shoes after the second of two full consults.

“How much did she offer you to move to Jamaica?” Emma asked.

“Carte blanche, which I told her was a rudimentary mistake. No one’s worth a blank check, especially when you’re designing a business model.”

“She’s rolling in it,” Laurel pointed out. “And yes, I know that doesn’t matter on a practical, business level. But she’s used to rolling in it.”

“She has a good concept. An exclusive and inclusive wedding company in a popular destination wedding site. And she’s smart to try to hook people with solid experience. But she’s got to create a budget, and stick.”

“Then why aren’t we doing it?” Mac wanted to know. “I don’t mean let’s all pack up and move to Jamaica or Aruba, or wherever, but a branch of Vows in some exotic locale? We’d kill.”

“I’ll kill you.” Laurel formed a gun with her thumb and finger, and went bang. “Haven’t we got enough work?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

Laurel gaped at Parker. “Let me reload.”

“Just a loose outline, for the future.”

“When they perfect human cloning.”

“A franchise rather than a branch,” Parker explained. “With very specific requirements. But I haven’t worked out all the details or kinks. If and when I do, we’ll all talk it through. And we’ll all have to agree. But for now, yes, we do have enough work. Except for the third week in August. We’re blank.”

“I saw that. I meant to ask you about it,” Emma continued as she stretched out some kinks in the small of her back. “I figured I’d forgotten to plug something in.”

“No, we don’t have an event that week because I blacked it out. I can change that if nobody’s interested in taking a week at the beach.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, then three women leaped up to do a happy dance. Laurel snatched Parker’s hand and pulled her up to join them.

“I take it you’re interested.”

“Can we pack now? Can we? Can we?” Mac demanded.

“Sunscreen, a bikini, and a blender for margaritas. What else do you need?” Laurel swung Parker around. “Vacation!”

“Where?” Emma asked. “What beach?”

“Who cares?” Laurel flopped down on the couch again. “It’s the beach. It’s a week without fondant or sugar paste. I wipe a tear from my cheek.”

“The Hamptons. Del bought a house.”

“Del bought a house in the Hamptons?” Mac lifted her fists in the air. “Go, Del.”

“Actually, Brown LLC bought it. That’s what some of the paperwork he’s been bringing over was about. A property came up. It’s a good investment. I didn’t say anything, in case it fell through. But it’s a done deal now. So, we’ll all pack ourselves off to the beach for a week the end of August.”

“All?” Laurel echoed.

“The four of us, Carter, Del, Jack, of course. It’s six bedrooms, eight baths. Plenty of room for everyone.”

“Does Jack know?” Emma wondered.

“He knows Del was looking at the property, but not about August. We both felt there wasn’t a point in talking about taking the week if we didn’t go through with it. Now we have.”

“I have to go tell Carter. Yay!” Mac gave Parker a smacking kiss before she rushed out.

“This is so great. I’m going to go put it on my calendar, with lots of little hearts and shiny suns. Moonlight walks on the beach.” Emma hugged Parker. “It’s nearly as perfect as dancing in a moonlit garden. I’m going to call Jack.”

When they were alone, Parker looked at Laurel. “Is anything wrong?”

“What? No. God, what could be wrong. Beach, a week. I think I’m in shock. We need new beach clothes.”

“Damn right.”

Laurel pushed up. “Let’s go shopping.”

When inspiration struck, Emma ran with it. It took some juggling and a client flexible enough to bump up a consult by an hour, but she managed to clear her Monday afternoon.

She planned to surprise Jack with a twist on their usual Monday night date.

On the way out she stopped by the main house and tracked down Parker in the office.

Parker paced, her headset in place, and rolled her eyes when Emma came in.

“I’m sure Kevin’s mother didn’t mean to be critical or insulting. You’re absolutely right, it is your wedding, your day, your choice. You’re entitled to . . . Yes, he is very sweet, Dawn, and extremely well behaved. I know . . . I know.”

Parker closed her eyes, mimed strangling herself for Emma’s benefit.

“Ah, why don’t you let me take care of this for you? It would take the stress off you and Kevin. And sometimes an outside party is better able to explain and . . . I’m sure she doesn’t. Yes, of course. I’d be angry, too. But—But . . . Dawn!” Her tone sharpened just a fraction, enough, Emma knew, to shut down whatever rant the bride might be on. “You have to remember, above anything else, any detail, any complication or disagreement, the day and everything about it is for you and Kevin. And you have to remember, I’m here to see that you and Kevin have the day you want.”

This time Parker shot her gaze to the ceiling. “Why don’t you and Kevin go out and have a nice dinner tonight, just the two of you? I can make a reservation for you wherever . . . I love that restaurant.” Parker scribbled down a name on a pad. “Say seven? I’ll take care of that for you right now. And I’ll speak to his mother this evening. By tomorrow, everything will be fine. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll talk to you soon. Yes, Dawn, that’s what I’m here for. Good. Great. Mmm-hmm. Bye.”

She held up a finger. “One more minute.” Once she’d contacted the bride’s choice of restaurant, wrangled a reservation, she pulled off the headset.

Parker took a breath, let out a short but enthusiastic scream, then nodded. “Better. Much better.”

“Dawn’s having a problem with her soon-to-be mother-in-law?”

“Yes. Oddly, the MOG doesn’t understand or approve of the bride’s choice of ring bearer.”

“It’s really not her—”

“Which is Beans, the bride’s Boston bull terrier.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that one.” Emma’s brow creased. “Wait. Did I know about that one?”

“Probably not, as she only told me a couple of days ago. The MOG thinks it’s silly, undignified, and embarrassing. And said so in very clear terms. The bride’s decided her future mother-in-law is a dog hater.”

“Is he wearing a tux?”

Parker’s lips twitched “At this point, just a bow tie. She wants the dog, she gets the dog. So I’ll ask the MOG to have a drink with me—as such matters are best done in person and with alcohol—and smooth this over.”

“Good luck with that. I’m heading into town. I’m going to surprise Jack, cook him dinner, so I won’t be back until morning. But I’m also going to see if you and Laurel left any sexy summer clothes anywhere in Greenwich.”

“There may be a halter top left. Possibly one pair of sandals.”

“I’ll find them. I’m going to the market, and by the nursery. Is there anything you need? I can drop it back by in the morning.”

“Are you going by the bookstore?”

“I’m going to town; what would my mother say if I didn’t drop in?”

“Right. She’s got a book I ordered.”

“I’ll get it for you. If you think of anything else, just call my cell.”

“Have fun.” As Emma left, Parker looked at her BlackBerry. Sighed. And picked it up to call Kevin’s mother.

Delighted to have a few hours out and about, Emma stopped at the nursery first. She gave herself permission to just wander and enjoy before settling down to the business of selection.

She loved the smells—the earth, the plants, the green—so much she had to order herself not to just buy some of everything. But she promised herself she’d take another swing through in the morning and pick up a few more plants for the estate.

For now, she debated on pots while envisioning Jack’s back porch entrance. She found two slim urns in a rusted bronze color she decided would be perfect flanking his kitchen door.

“Nina?” She signaled to the manager. “I’m going to take these two.”

“They’re great, aren’t they?”

“They are. Can you have them loaded in my car? It’s right out front. And the potting soil? I’m just going to pick out the plants.”

“Take your time.”

She found exactly what she wanted, sticking with deep reds and purples with a few sparks of gold to set them off.

“Gorgeous,” Nina commented when Emma pushed her cart through toward the cashier. “Strong colors, great textures. And that heliotrope smells wonderful. Is this for a wedding?”

“No, actually they’re a gift for a friend.”

“Lucky friend. Everything’s loaded.”

“Thanks.”

In town, she wandered the shops, treated herself to new sandals, a breezy skirt, and thinking of the long-ago summer, a boldly printed scarf to use as a beach wrap.

She swung into the bookstore, waved to the clerk ringing up a sale at the counter.

“Hi, Emma! Your mom’s in the back.”

“Thanks.”

She found her mother opening a recent delivery of books. The minute she saw Emma, Lucia set the shipment aside. “Now this is the best kind of surprise.”

“I’ve been out spending money.” Emma leaned over the box to kiss Lucia’s cheek.

“My favorite activity. Almost. Did you buy something that made you so happy, or . . .” She tapped a finger on Emma’s bracelet. “Are you just happy?”

“Both. I’m going to cook dinner for Jack, so I still have to go to the market. But I found the cutest sandals, which—of course—I had to wear out.”

Emma did a pivot, a turn, showing them off.

“They are cute.”

“And . . .” Emma flicked her index fingers at her new gold dangles to make them sway.

“Ah, pretty.”

“Plus a wonderful summer skirt just covered with red poppies. A couple of tops, a scarf, and . . . so on.”

“That’s my girl. I saw Jack this morning. I thought he said you were going to the movies tonight.”

“Change of plans. I’m going to make him your flank steak. Mrs. G had one in the freezer so I begged it from her and it’s been marinating all night. It’s out in the car in a cooler. I thought I’d do those roasted fingerling potatoes with rosemary, maybe asparagus, a nice chunk of bread with dipping oil. What do you think?”

“Very manly.”

“Good, that was the idea. I couldn’t bring myself to hit Laurel up for a dessert. She’s swamped. I thought maybe just ice cream and berries.”

“A manly and thoughtful meal. Is this an occasion?”

“Partly to thank him for the incredible night in New York, and the rest . . . I’m going to tell him, Mama. I’m going to tell him how I feel about him, that I love him. It seems almost wrong to have all this”—she pressed a hand to her heart—“and not tell him.”

“Love is brave,” Lucia reminded her. “I know when he says your name, he looks happy. I’m glad you told me. Now I can think good thoughts for you, for both of you, tonight.”

“I’ll take them. Oh, and you have a book for Parker. I told her I’d pick it up for her.”

“I’ll get it for you.” Lucia wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist as she walked her out of the storeroom. “You’ll call me tomorrow? I want to know how your dinner went.”

“I’ll call you, first thing.”

“Emma?”

Emma looked over, smiled at the pretty brunette she desperately tried to place. “Hi.”

“It is you! Oh, hi, Emma!”

Emma found herself gripped in an enthusiastic hug and rocked side to side. Baffled, she gave the girl a friendly squeeze in return as she shot questioning looks at her mother.

“Rachel, you’re home from college.” Lucia beamed as she gave her daughter hints. “It seems like last week Emma was heading out to babysit for you.”

“I know. I can hardly—”

“Rachel? Rachel Monning?” Emma pulled her back, stared into bright blue eyes. “Oh my God.

Look at you. I didn’t recognize you. You’re grown-up and gorgeous. When did you stop being twelve?”

“A while ago. It’s just been so long, between this and that and college. Oh, Emma, you look awesome. You always did. I can’t believe I ran into you this way. I was actually going to call you.”

“You’re in college now? Home for the summer?”

“Yes. One more year. I’m working at Estervil, in public relations. It’s my day off and I stopped in because I needed a book. A wedding planning book. I’m engaged!”

She held out her hand to show off the sparkle of her diamond.

“Engaged?” Emma pushed through the moment of speechless shock. “But you were playing with your Barbies ten minutes ago.”

“I think it’s closer to ten years.” Rachel’s face lit up with her laugh. “You have to meet Drew. He’s amazing. Of course you’ll meet him. We’re going to get married next summer, after I graduate, and I really want to have you do the flowers, and, well, everything. My mother says Vows is the place. Can you believe it? I’m getting married, and you’ll make my bouquet. You used to make those Kleenex bouquets for me, and now, it’ll be real.”

She felt the jab straight in the belly, hated herself for it, but felt it. “I’m so happy for you. When did this happen?”

“Two weeks, three days and . . .” Rachel checked her watch. “Sixteen hours ago. Oh, I wish I had more time, but I have to get the book and run or I’ll be late.” She hugged Emma again. “I’ll call and we’ll talk flowers and cakes and, oh God, everything. Bye! Bye, Mrs. Grant. I’ll see you soon.”

“Rachel Monning’s getting married.”

“Yes.” Lucia patted Emma’s shoulder. “She is.”

“I used to babysit for her. I used to French braid her hair and let her stay up past her bedtime. Now I’m going to do her wedding flowers. Good God, Mama.”

“There there,” Lucia said and didn’t bother to mask a chuckle. “Aren’t you about to spend the evening with a wonderful man?”

“Yes. Right. I get it. Everyone takes different directions. But . . . Good God.”

She managed to put babysitting and weddings aside to finish her shopping. She’d barely stepped out of the market before being hailed again.

“Buenos tardes, bonita!”

“Rico.” Instead of a hug she had both cheeks affectionately kissed. “How are you?”

“Better for seeing you.”

“Why aren’t you flying somewhere fabulous?”

“Just back from a run to Italy. The owner took his family to Tuscany for a little R and R.”

“Ah, the hard life of the private pilot. And how’s Brenna?”

“We broke up a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t heard.”

“The way it goes.” He shrugged. “Let me carry those for you.” He took her grocery bags, peeked in as he walked her to her car. “Looks like good eating, and a lot better than the Hungry Man dinner I have on tap.”

“Oh, poor thing.” She laughed at him then unlocked the passenger side door. “Just in here. I’m already pretty loaded in the back.”

“So I see,” he said as he glanced at the plants and bags in the backseat. “It looks like you’ve got a busy evening planned, but if you want to change your mind, I’ll take you to dinner.” He trailed a flirtatious finger down her arm. “Or better yet, give you that flying lesson we used to talk about.”

“Thanks, Rico, but I’m seeing someone.”

“It ought to be me. Feel free to change your mind about that, too—anytime—and give me a call.”

“If I do you’ll be the first.” She brushed her lips over his cheek before rounding the hood to her door. “Do you remember Jill Burke?”

“Ah . . . little blonde, big laugh.”

“Yes. She’s single again, too.”

“Is that so?”

“You should call her. I bet she’d love a flying lesson.”

His grin flashed adding a sparkle to his eyes and reminding her why she’d enjoyed spending time with him. She got in, and sent him a wave as she drove away.

Considering the planters, plants, groceries, Emma parked in the back of Jack’s building and as close to the steps as she could manage. She angled her head as she studied the little kitchen deck, then nodded. The planters would do very well there, very well indeed.

Eager to get started, she walked around to the front of the building to use the main entrance. The beveled glass in the door and the tall front windows brought in pretty light, adding a sense of style and comfort to the reception area. He’d been right to keep it cozy rather than sleek, she thought. It projected calm and quiet dignity, while she knew in the individual offices and planning rooms chaos often reigned.

“Hi, Michelle.”

“Emma.” The woman working on a computer at a ruthlessly organized desk stopped to shift her chair. “How are you?”

“I’m great. How are you feeling?”

“Twenty-nine weeks and counting.” Michelle patted her baby belly. “We’re perfect. I love your sandals.”

“Me, too. I just bought them.”

“They’re great. Monday night date, right?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re a little early, aren’t you?”

“New plan. Is Jack busy? I haven’t actually told him the new plan.”

“He’s not back yet. Running late, glitch on a site. Not very happy with the subs or the new county inspector, or, well, anything just at the moment.”

“Oh.” Emma winced. “Well, my new plan is either very good or very bad under those circumstances.”

“Can you share?”

“Sure. I thought I’d cook dinner, surprise him with that and some planters for his little deck. Dinner and a movie at home, instead of going out.”

“If you want my opinion, it’s inspired. I think he’d be thrilled to have a home-cooked meal after the day he’s put in. You can call and check, but he may be in round three with the building inspector.”

“Why don’t we just let that play out? The problem is, Michelle, I don’t have a key.”

There was a beat, just a quick bump of surprise. “Oh, well, that’s no problem.” Michelle opened a drawer of her desk to fish out a spare set.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” And how mortifying is it, Emma thought, to have to ask?

“I can’t think of why it wouldn’t be. You and Jack have been friends for years, and now you’re . . .”

“Yes, we are,” Emma said, deliberately bright. “Second problem? The two planters I bought weigh about fifty pounds each.”

“Chip’s in the back. I’ll send him out.”

“Thanks, Michelle,” Emma said as she took the keys. “You’re a lifesaver.”

She closed her hand around the keys as she started around to the back again. No point, she told herself, in feeling embarrassed. No point in feeling slighted that the man she’d been sleeping with for nearly three months—and had known for more than a decade—hadn’t bothered to give her a key.

It wasn’t symbolic, for God’s sake. He wasn’t locking her out. He was just . . .

It didn’t matter. She would forge ahead with her plans for the evening. Give him flowers, cook him dinner, and tell him she loved him.

And, damn it, she was going to ask for a key.