Deadly Arrangements (Book Two in the Cozy Flower Shop Mystery Series) (The Flower Shop Mystery Series) by Adams Annie

Author:Adams, Annie [Adams, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Annie Whittaker
Published: 2014-04-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Alex left for California a couple of days after the boardwalk incident, and wouldn’t return until after he finished working in Boise. And he would have to miss K.C.’s wedding. He might have postponed the trip had I encouraged him to stay, but I may not have tried very hard to do that.

Maybe it was the trauma that made me do it, or maybe I’m just not a very good girlfriend. But I told him he should go take care of his business in California. And since he didn’t think it was any of my business, there was no point in us talking about it anymore.

For once in my life, I actually appreciated my mother’s overbearing nature. It provided a constant third wheel in my life. Adding my father to the mix gave me enough extra wheels for a stretch limo. There was no room for exploring feelings or talking things out and that was just what I needed. Well, maybe just what I wanted, whether it was good for me or not.

I’m sure Alex was in a whirlwind of emotions too. Unfortunately for both of us, he chose not to share any of the reasons for those emotions with me. I’d learned of those reasons from one of the reasons! And did she have to be such a good-looking and successful reason?

Despite all of my feelings of righteous indignation, I knew I hadn't handled the situation with Alex very well. In fact, in plain language, I had behaved like a moron.

The first day after he left, I still thought I’d just been protecting myself from heartache. After a few more days of letting things percolate, I was missing Alex terribly and thinking of all of the times where I could have just told him how I was feeling, or even asked him what was going on and talked things out.

Back to that whole hesitation thing again. I hesitated to look behind the curtain and find out what was happening and get his side of the story. Despite all the time I spent trying to convince myself that I trusted him, I hadn't come any closer to being less of a pathetic spinster. I’d be that one old lady in the neighborhood who would live and die alone because she wouldn't let anyone break her crusty old shell, let alone open the heart underneath it.

I buried myself in work to distract myself from thinking about what a jerk I was. I picked up the phone a few times—even dialed Alex's number—but never hit connect. I didn't think he would want to hear from me again. He was probably telling his family how he’d dodged a bullet.

Maybe in a couple of days I could gather the courage to call him and apologize. I would use Harold Busby’s dead body as an excuse for having completely lost all of my faculties of reason and logic. It wasn't the apology that required me to gather courage—it was his response that I would need courage for.

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