“For a big, tough guy, you sure say the word cutest a lot.”
He groans and lowers me to the ground. “You win.” He shakes out his arm, then massages the red marks left by my fingers.
“What do I win?” I ask.
“My heart.”
He reaches into his pocket and hands me a tiny, heart-shaped charm.
He explains, “I didn’t want to scare you, so I took it off the bracelet before I gave it to you.”
“Cute!” It’s just cute enough that I’m not quite so upset about the news he slept with the crazy real estate agent. I accept the heart and hold it on my palm.
“Now you have my heart,” he says. “Promise you won’t break it.”
I attempt to pick the heart up with my fingers to examine it closer. My arms are shaking. My hands are numb from hanging off Luca’s arm like some wild-eyed sugar-crazed kid on the monkey bars. I fumble the heart and drop it on the ground.
Luca frowns at me. “That’s not a good sign.”
“Says the guy with a stalker.”
He crouches down and grabs the heart charm, then tucks it into his pocket again.
I put my hands on my hips.
“Well? Why didn’t you text me back?” I ask.
“My spelling is atrocious,” he says. “If you would have phoned, I would have picked up and talked to you, though.”
I’m so surprised, I actually take two steps back. I am literally taken aback by this strange confession.
“You blow me off all day because you’re a bad speller?”
He looks sheepish. “Plus, I don’t do texting.”
“Just because you’re a bad speller? You can always use Autocorrect.”
He winces and looks even more uncomfortable. “Tina, I don’t do text messages, because I’m an adult. That’s kid stuff, with the little pictures and whatever.”
I stare at him in astonishment. “Excuse me for being into kid stuff.”
He rubs his forehead and looks over his shoulder toward the door.
“I should get back to the garage. Let me know if any of my other stalkers come by.”
“You know I will.”
And then he leaves.
I check the calendar to see if it’s a full moon. I’m not surprised to find it is. I have had some weird Mondays, but this one takes the cake.
I try to get back to work, but now I’m thinking about that skanky blonde. Yuck. I’m so grossed out that he slept with her. Even if it was just once, I’m not happy about it.
Now that I know the story behind the first apology arrangement, I wish I didn’t. I hope I never find out about the second one.
My sister comes in after lunch to take the second half of the day.
I tell her all about the excitement she missed.
When I’m done, she wrinkles her nose. “So, he doesn’t have a brother. That’s too bad.”
“Megan, focus. He bought two arrangements. Who do you think the second one was for?”
I told myself I didn’t want to know the story, but now it’s basically the only thing I can think about.
Her eyes get huge, and she says in a scary voice, “The second flowers were for the stalker who’s going to murder you. Mwah-hah-hah. Sleep with one eye open.”
I grab my purse and leave, rolling my eyes.
Outside on the sidewalk, the sunshine hits me, along with an idea. I don’t need to go home and sulk over Luca not calling me. If I want to earn that heart back, I could at least make a move.
I walk up Baker Street until I get to the garage. There’s still paper all over the windows, so I can’t see in. I try the door. It’s unlocked.
Inside, the reception area has changed so much, it’s unrecognizable. A couple of guys are working on assembling a counter, and a few more are painting.
Luca looks up from some blueprints and comes over to me, smiling.
He waves around, apologizing for the mess. “Nothing’s finished, but it’s coming together.”
I look at the rejuvenated space in awe. The old drop ceiling with water-stained acoustic tiles has been removed, and the exposed wood beams have been sandblasted clean. Everything that’s new is a shade of grey, with chrome accents and a few splashes of color. There’s a painter putting a glossy coat of red on the wooden window frames.
“Luca, this isn’t a garage.”
He nods toward the service bays, which are now visible from the reception, now that an entire wall has been removed and replaced with glass.
“Not yet, I know. We’re still waiting on some equipment.”
“Forget that. I’m moving in here. This isn’t a garage. It’s my dream home.”
He chuckles. “But you already have a garage you live in.”
We’re interrupted by the guys working on the counter needing to ask Luca about something.