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Page 23 of The Perfect Deception

Dina re­turned to her apart­ment that evening, yawn­ing. She kicked a yel­low petal on the front side­walk be­fore she dragged her­self up the stairs and into the front hall of her Vic­to­rian build­ing. More petals in­ter­min­gled with leaves lay scat­tered on the car­peted hall­way. She frowned as she opened her mail­box. Some flower de­liv­ery ser­vice had made a mess.

Af­ter a mostly sleep­less night at Adam’s and a full day of work, all she wanted to do was draw a bath in her claw foot tub and go to bed. Im­me­di­ately. She fol­lowed the trail of petals and leaves up­stairs to her front door. Taped to it was a kelly-green en­ve­lope. She yanked it off and opened it.

Tracy said it was okay.

Her mind was too slug­gish to process the mean­ing of the note, so she un­locked her door and gasped. Yel­low flow­ers of ev­ery va­ri­ety cov­ered all the vis­i­ble sur­faces in her apart­ment. Cen­tered on the oc­ca­sional ta­ble in her front hall­way was a vase of yel­low sun­flow­ers. Toss­ing her keys next to them, she moved into her liv­ing room, where vases of blan­ket flow­ers and daf­fodils lit­tered her cof­fee ta­ble. Walk­ing over to the win­dowsill, she sneezed at the gold­en­rod.

Kick­ing off her shoes, she walked bare­foot into the kitchen and saw roses on the coun­ters, ligu­laria in the sink and black eyed Su­sans on the stove. Stunned, she peeked into her bed­room. Snap­drag­ons sat on her dresser, tick­seeds were on her night ta­ble and cone­flow­ers were tied in bunches on her bed. It was as if the pages ofThe En­cy­clo­pe­dia of Plants and Flow­ershad come to life. An­other kelly-green note lay on her pil­low and she sank to the floor to read it.

Please go to your high school re­union with me.

Adam

It was only when she saw each word al­ter­nat­ing be­tween green and gold that she re­al­ized Adam had cho­sen the flow­ers to co­or­di­nate with her school col­ors. She leaned against the side of her bed. Mr. Flashy­pants had struck again and he was a ro­man­tic. Ap­par­ently with her friend Tracy’s help.

Tak­ing her time, she stopped to ex­am­ine all of the flow­ers, ex­cept for the gold­en­rod, which she car­ried at arm’s length out to her bal­cony—al­ler­gies. Her lips twitched. He was the one who left the petals and leaves trail­ing from her front porch to her apart­ment door. It was…sweet and ro­man­tic and over the top. Pulling her phone out of her purse, she di­aled Adam’s num­ber. He an­swered right away.

“So will you go with me?”

Had he been wait­ing for her call? “Thank you for the flow­ers.” She tried to keep her voice mod­u­lated and steady, even though her heart was beat­ing fast.

“Did you like them?”

“Ev­ery­thing ex­cept the gold­en­rod. They make me sneeze.”

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I put them out on the bal­cony where I can see them any­way.”

“I’ll re­mem­ber that for next time.”

He was go­ing to do this again? “Mm hm.”

“So, will you go with me?”

“It’smyre­union. Shouldn’t it be, ‘can I go with you?’?”

“De­tails.”

She laughed. “Yes.”

The smile on Adam’s face lasted the rest of the night as he watched TV and lay in bed. Dina in­vaded his dreams, which fea­tured a sil­hou­ette he’d swear was her. He woke up the next morn­ing with a smile that didn’t dim as he walked from Star­bucks into his of­fice. Only his fa­ther’s voice com­ing through the in­ter­com, or­der­ing him into his of­fice at his “ear­li­est con­ve­nience” made it dis­ap­pear.

The man sure knew how to ruin the mood.

Plas­ter­ing a neu­tral ex­pres­sion on his face, Adam sat across from his fa­ther at his mas­sive desk.

“What’s up?”

His fa­ther frowned. “Is that how you speak to me?”

Neu­tral­ity was dif­fi­cult to main­tain. Ku­dos to Switzer­land. “I apol­o­gize.”

With a nod, his fa­ther leaned for­ward, tent­ing his hands and rest­ing his el­bows on his ma­hogany desk. “Bradley & Com­pany is threat­en­ing to take their busi­ness else­where, thanks to your care­less­ness.”

His stom­ach plum­meted to his toes.

His fa­ther’s look of dis­taste matched Adam’s feel­ings at hav­ing his fa­ther think so poorly of him.




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