Page 33 of Mr. Green (Mr. #2)

Lana

I arrive back at home the next afternoon.

I’m outside, staring at the stairs I should be climbing.

I should go up and inside my apartment. Get back to reality.

My parent’s place was nice; I was babied and held like I was little again.

I feel grounded, but I also feel like I’m missing something in life.

I’m missing family life. My parents have a loving relationship. My mom touches my dad subtly throughout the day, and my dad gives my mom a hundred kisses, at least. They both back each other up. They gave me a model of how to be an amazing couple.

Once I walk through the door, it’s going to be apparent I’m all alone again.

“Fuck it,” I whisper to myself. I walk up to the door with Queenie right by me. A beautiful flower arrangement is waiting for me at the door. A small smile creeps up on my face.

I go over to the flowers. They’re all yellow lilies mixed with red roses. The red is nice, but it’s the yellow that stands out. I find a note after admiring them.

Sunshine,

You deserve the world, but I’ll start with these.

Can’t wait to see your beautiful face again.

Xoxo,

Grant

I pet Queenie. “Hey, girl! You want to go for a run? Lord knows I need it.” She wags her tail and whines in response. That’s a yes.

I go to get my running shoes. I’m already in sweats; it should be my uniform at this point. As I’m getting prepared, a knock at the door sounds. I’m hoping it’s Grant. I go over to it and peer through the peep hole. It’s not Grant, but it looks like another delivery.

I open the door and the delivery man asks, “Lana Love?”

“That’s me.”

“Your name is cool. It sounds like you’re a porn star.”

I look at him like he’s an idiot.

“Anyway, I have a delivery for you.” He fidgets from foot to foot, holding a ginormous arrangement.

“Okay. I can take it.” Another vase of flowers, but this one is full of sunflowers, with a few red roses mixed in.

“This isn’t the only one. I’ll be back with more.”

“More?” My eyebrows raise to my hairline.

He nods and then heads back downstairs. This is a surprise. It’s like he knew I was beginning to feel sorry for myself again. I find the note sticking out of this one too.

Sunshine,

The clouds are out, so I figured you needed some brightness.

You bring me sunshine, so I wanted to return the favor.

Xoxo,

Grant

The delivery driver brings in five more bouquets of flowers, all yellow.

There’s a bouquet for every surface in my place.

Grant has obviously thought this out. I have to admit, it’s the cutest thing anyone has ever done.

I’m glad to see red roses are also in all the bouquets.

Yellow means friendship, but Grant made sure there were red roses, equating to him liking me as more than a friend.

“I have one more for you. I almost overlooked it; it doesn’t match everything else I brought in,” he says as he disappears to retrieve the odd item. Strange.

He comes back after thirty seconds holding a small bouquet of pink and purple carnations.

It looks absolutely pitiful compared to the others.

I automatically know it’s not from Grant.

It’s not a coincidence the flowers all came from the same place.

Living in a small town, where there’s only one flower shop. My stomach turns in response.

I take the note from the last bouquet after thanking the driver and closing the front door.

Lana,

Let’s start fresh.

I really need to talk to you.

Love,

Ryan

Surprisingly, my first thought is, that stupid buttface .

I thought I’d want to hear from him. I’ve been waiting two years.

Now he’s reached out, it’s like I can’t believe he’s a real person trying to talk to me.

I stare at the flowers, fidgeting and pacing.

I decide the best thing is to keep ignoring him.

The flowers look sad, but I don’t want to throw them out.

It’s not their fault their sender is a jackass.

I put them in a corner in my kitchen where you can hardly see them.

I don’t want to throw them out, but I also don’t want to display them.

What if Grant came in and saw them here?

I’m not “officially” with Grant, but I haven’t been in a healthy relationship for a while and I don’t know the rules.

Maybe it just happens organically. Regardless, Grant has shown me what a dick Ryan was being, when I thought he was being sweet.

I’ve gotten a taste of filet mignon and I’m not settling for chuck steak.

I’m still confused about why Ryan would just leave me.

I don’t need to hear his side so he can explain, it’s more to confirm what he did was stupid.

I want to be in a place to make him feel like he missed out on the best thing he could’ve gotten.

I’m not quite there yet, though. I want to be, but getting my confidence back isn’t something that’ll happen overnight.

I put my shoes on and grab Queenie for a run. I want to clear my head. I want to feel my body move. The more I focus on my body moving, the better I feel about it. I want to take full advantage of it, and the best way for me to focus is to get going. It’s why I enjoy running so much.

Queenie and I break into a steady pace. I’m keeping up with her, which is an insight into my mood. Most days she drags me along. I run, focusing on my feet hitting the pavement each time. Focusing on each leg moving and my arms pumping.

We run and run and run. By the time I realize I’ve taken us back to my apartment complex, I look down at my watch to see we’ve run eight and a half miles. If I ever need to do another marathon, I know exactly who to call to get me psyched up for a record time.

I walk into my place and immediately start the bath. Water always helps make me feel better. I rinse in the shower after I get Queenie fresh water. Then I plug up the tub and wait for it to fill.

As I’m sitting in the bath, I think about Ryan.

One month ago, I would’ve been thrilled to hear from him.

He never got me flowers, so I would’ve been excited to see he was finally making an effort.

I should reach out to him. It’s something new for him to do.

I should be happy he wants to talk. For some reason, my fingers won’t dial the number I know by heart.

Instead Grant’s number lights up on my phone making my lips turn up in a smile.

I answer without hesitation.