Songbird (15 page)

Please don’t be here. Please don’t be here.

I continue mumbling that prayer as I step out of the elevator. Taking a deep breath, I peek over the top of the flowers in my hand. Of course he’s there, standing against my door.

“Oh, you got the flowers. Here, let me help you with them.”

I let him, because nobody tells you how heavy two dozen roses can be.

“I didn’t think about how you’d get them home. I guess I assumed you’d leave them on your desk.”

“My desk’s too small.” I reach into my bag and find my keys.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, Devin. They’re really beautiful.”

“Like you.”

His voice rings with sincerity, so I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Instead, I open the door and step inside the sanctuary of my apartment.

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome, Callie.”

I close the door.

The next four days are exactly the same.

Each morning, Devin’s waiting for me outside my apartment. At noon, he’s in the newsroom begging to take me to lunch, despite the fact I always say no. The poor delivery boy shows up around three o’clock with a fresh bouquet of white roses. And every afternoon, I find him waiting at my door. I always thank him for the flowers and then close the door in his handsome face.

Every day is the same. Only the cards are different.

Always handwritten, the messages have become more heartfelt each day. Instead of saying something flattering about me, he’s started telling me things about him. Things that are completely unexpected.

You look beautiful.

I want to take care of you and our baby.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I dream about you every night.

After reading today’s message, I take the collection of tiny cards out of my drawer and line them up on my desk. I obsess over them, trying desperately to read between the lines.

Today’s embarrassment of flowers and sweet card hit me the hardest. In his perfect handwriting, Devin wrote four little words.

Please forgive me, Songbird.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, or maybe he’s just wearing me down with all the sappy love notes, but it’s getting harder and harder to close that door in his face every night.

As we walk to my apartment later that evening, I beg Lorie to tell me what to do. She’d remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this entire ordeal. Lorie’s so good at separating emotion from logic. I rely on her to be my voice of reason.

“What do you want to do?” Lorie asks.

“I have no idea.”

“What does Megan say?”

“You know Meg. She’s a romantic at heart.”

“She thinks you should forgive him?”

I shrug. “She thinks I should at least have a conversation with him.”

Lorie loops her arm through mine as we head toward the elevator. “You know, I’ll hate him forever for treating you the way he did, but I think Megan’s right. I believe he’s sincere when he says he’s sorry.”

We step into the elevator and press the button for my floor. “Owen’s turned you into such a softie.”

“Maybe, but he knows his brother better than anyone, and apparently, Devin’s a mess. And Valerie’s worried about both of you because all this drama isn’t good for the baby. This kid’s going to have the best grandparents, Callie. The McAllisters are amazing people.”

At least my child will be loved by one side of the family.

“Fifty bucks says he’s at my door right now.”

She smirks. “I’m not taking that bet. He’s been camped out there all week.”

We laugh as we step out of the elevator and make our way to the door. As predicted, Devin’s there, sitting outside my door. He quickly stands up when he sees the two of us.

“Hello, Devin,” Lorie says sweetly.

“Hello, Lorie.”

“Don’t you have a home?”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

Devin clears his throat. “Yes, I do. My home’s wherever Callie is.”

Lorie’s face softens, and she shoots me a glance. I shrug helplessly. He’s been saying sweet shit like that all week.

“You’re either the smoothest bastard I’ve ever met or you’re absolutely crazy about her.”

I take advantage of his stunned silence by unlocking my door. Once it’s open, I turn around and stand in the doorway, watching as my best friend and the father of my child stare each other down.

“Which do you think it is?” he asks.

“I’m going to let Callie decide. Try not to screw it up this time, McAllister.” She grins and walks back toward the elevator. “Goodnight, you two.”

Devin turns to me, excitement etched across his handsome face. His brown eyes sparkle with anticipation as he leans against the doorway.

“I can’t help but notice your arms are empty. Do I need to fire my delivery guy?”

“Oh, no, he delivered them. I just couldn’t carry
four dozen
roses home. I hope you don’t mind, but I gave them away. The girls—and some of the guys—loved them. Nearly every desk in the newsroom has flowers. One of our advertisers stopped by and thought he’d walked into a florist.”

He laughs. “Did you at least read the card before you gave them away?”

“I’ve read every card. We should probably talk about those.”

“Okay.”

I take a deep breath and step aside.

“Are you coming in or what?”

Happy but hesitant, Devin slowly follows me into my apartment.

“Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have water, juice . . .”

“Juice is great.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I head to the fridge. The open floor plan of the apartment was the first thing that attracted me to it, but right now, I could’ve used a wall to give me a few minutes to gather my nerve. Instead, I ignore his penetrating stare and grab two juices.

“I’m going to make a sandwich. Would you like one?”

“No, thanks.”

I grab the mayonnaise, turkey, and cheese out of the fridge. As soon as I flip the top on the mayo, my stomach does a somersault.
Weird.
I’ve craved mayo every night this week.

I shrug it off and finish making my sandwich. After putting everything on a tray, I carry it to the living room and sit down next to him on the couch.

“Thanks,” he says.

I nod and curl my feet under me. He watches me while I eat, which normally would have made me self-conscious, but I’m too starved to care.

“I can’t believe you let me in.”

“That makes two of us. I guess you wore me down with all the flowers and sappy cards. You can stop sending them now, by the way, although I’m sure your florist will miss you terribly. He . . . or she . . . can probably retire now.”

He grins. “It was worth every penny if it means you’ll talk to me.”

“I’m not talking to you because of the roses. I’m talking to you because a very good friend reminded me that, if our situations had been reversed, I might have had the same reaction you did.”

“What’s your friend’s name? I’d like to send her a dozen roses for helping me out.”

“
His
name’s Leo. You met him, remember?”

Devin’s eyes darken. I stifle a giggle.

“I think he likes tulips, though. Oh, and don’t put your name on the card. Oliver—his boyfriend—might get jealous if you do.”

He blinks rapidly. “Wait, Oliver? The photographer?”

I nod and sip my juice.

“Leo and Oliver are a couple?”

“That’s right.”

“And I accused you—”

“You sure did.”

Devin bows his head. “So I’m an even bigger asshole than I thought.”

I don’t agree or disagree, because neither is productive to the conservation we need to have.

“So, yeah, Leo reminded me that you don’t know me at all, so your reaction—while insanely rude—was understandable.”

“I just panicked,” he says quietly, his voice breaking. “But that doesn’t excuse what I said to you. I’m so sorry, Callie.”

“It’s okay—”

“No, you have to let me do this,” he says urgently, climbing off the couch and falling to his knees before me. “You have to let me say these things because you might never give me another chance.”

Please don’t let me cry in front of this man.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m sorry I made you feel like you were all alone. I was scared, and I’m still scared, but I know you’re scared, too, and I just want the chance to make this up to you. I have never begged for anything in my life, but I will beg for this.”

My breath hitches when he takes my hands and slowly laces his fingers with mine. I’ve been so strong these past few days, but being this close to him when he’s on his knees and pouring his heart out is going to break me.

I blink back tears.
“Why, Devin? Why are you doing this?”

“Because this is my baby, too, and I want to be part of its life. I have absolutely no idea what to do, but I really want to try.” He lets go of one of my hands and brushes a strand of hair out of my face. “I want you to trust me, but I know that’ll take time. Please let me try.”

He isn’t asking me to forgive him. Somehow, he knows I’m not ready for that. He’s just asking to try, and he’s begging me to give him a chance to do so.

Can I do that?

Maybe.

“Will you get my bag? It’s on the kitchen table.”

Confusion flashes across his face, but he doesn’t question it. When he returns, he hands it to me and falls back down to the floor.

“You don’t have to beg on your knees, you know.”

“Yes, I do, Songbird.”

Sighing softly, I slide down to the carpet next to him and reach into my bag to pull out five tiny envelopes.

“Tell me about the cards, Devin.”

“Which ones?”

In all honesty, the more flattering cards are pretty self-explanatory. I’m more interested in what he has to say about the more heartfelt notes he sent later in the week. I hand him those, and he reads them before gazing at me with a look that melts my heart.