What He Really Feels (He Feels Trilogy) (25 page)

“So do you want to talk about it?” I finally asked.

Spencer stared down into his beer. At least I didn’t have to make eye contact with him while he told me all about Lindsay.
“Not much to talk about. We broke up a little while ago, made a go of it, and she ended things. On fucking Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” I meant it. I was sorry for the part I played in it even though he didn’t know what that was.
Yet.

“Thanks.”

Curiosity got the best of me. “What happened?”

He still didn’t look up from his beer.
“We went out for a nice dinner, and we got back and she wasn’t feeling well. We watched some television and she was on her phone. And then she said she said she couldn’t be with me anymore.” He paused and sighed before continuing. “We had recently broken up and just got back together, and she said that our time apart had shown her that we shouldn’t be together.”

I took a long drink, not sure what I should say. It was difficult acting like a caring friend when I already knew the story from a different perspective.
“So how did you react when she said that?”

“I tried to convince her that I had changed, that the reason we broke up in the first place was no longer a concern, but she didn’t want to hear it. And that made me feel like there was someone else, you know?”

I froze, but he was oblivious as he stared into his beer.

“Then she said she was going to stay with a friend, and I assume she went to her friend Penny’s place.”

“Where’s that?” I asked, hating myself in the moment for being weak and using Spencer to get information about her.

“Like two miles from here.”

He pointed to the north, and my internal GPS zeroed in a little closer on my target.

“So what next?”
I asked, trying to get off the dangerous path I had started down.

He shrugged. “I move on, I guess. I just don’t know how to do that. I had planned on marrying her.”

“If it makes you feel any better, last night I found out that the woman I have loved for most of my life is engaged to another man.”

He glanced over at me and smiled wryly. “Sorry, man. Looks like we both have girl troubles.”

I nodded. “I’m sure we’re not alone, either. Look around you. More men in here tonight than ladies. That should tell you something.”

“None of us are oblivious to their charms, I guess.”

“Nope. But when one catches you, it’s awfully hard to let go.”

He
clinked his bottle to mine. “True story.”

I filled him in on the story about Nick and Julianne, hoping that he could see that he wasn’t alone in his heartbreak.
Even though I felt my own heart splintering for a completely different reason. One that he would certainly be able to commiserate with much better than the Julianne story.

I treated for our one round of beer, and then we each headed home. Spencer thanked me for listening, and I felt like the biggest douche bag that ever walked the earth for what I had done to him. I hadn’t considered that there could be someone else on that first night with Lindsay, and what were the fucking chances that the dude would end up being my colleague and a truly good guy?

Just my luck.

When I got home, Dan was relaxed in a leather recliner in the family room watching ESPN. I rummaged in the fridge and found two bottles of Miller
Lite. I brought one for Dan.

“Got something for you,” Dan said when I sat on the couch. I took a long drink.

“What?”

“Her last name, her home address, and her work information including address, email, and phone number.”

“Seriously?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I knew you were with Spencer, so I didn’t want to text you the details, but I can send them now.”

“Please. How did you find them?”

“Heather.” He clicked some buttons on the screen of his phone.

“What did you say to her?”

“I said that I needed Spencer’s ex-girlfriend’s information. She found it and didn’t ask questions.”

“She is the best damn secretary that ever walked the earth.”

“Take care of her on Secretary’s Day.”

“I’m pretty sure they renamed that to Administrative Assistant’s Day.”

“Whatever. Get the woman some fucking flowers, dude.”

I laughed, and then the text came through with Lindsay’s information.

Lindsay Rhodes. The woman had gone from “Gorgeous” to “Lindsay Rhodes.”

I grinned up at Dan. “Thanks for this, man. Really. I owe you one.”

Dan shook his head. “I told you. I got your back.”

I headed to my bedroom to execute the next part of my plan. But first, I texted her again.
Please don’t ignore me. I miss you
.

I was confident that I was going to get her back. I felt a rumbling of anxiety, but I pushed it down. Thinking negatively wouldn’t be productive, and I had to focus on getting her back. I was going to chip away at this. I was going to be relentless, and I was going to win her back. It might take some time, but I wouldn’t give up on her.

I couldn’t give up. We were meant for each other, and I didn’t have a choice. I was drawn to her in ways I didn’t understand, so I had to believe that it would work out for us.

I started by looking up Lindsay’s work information. She worked for JDH Events in San Diego. I hoped she’d be in her office all day, and I found that the office hours were 9:00-5:00.

I located the closest florist, and I pulled open a Word document to start drafting my plan. Once I had it all together three hours later, I was happy with what I had done. Dan had poked his head in my room midway through, asking if I needed dinner. I did, but I was focused, so he went off somewhere to procure food while I kept working.

I reread my list and then typed it into the website for the florist.

I had never in my life been good at expressing my feelings, but something about doing this for Lindsay helped me say what I was feeling. Maybe it was her. Maybe I had never been good at expressing myself because I hadn’t found the right girl.

I set up deliveries for every hour. From nine to five, I’d send them to her work, and at eight in the morning, when the florist opened, and at night from six until eight, when the florist closed, I would send them to her residence.

The notes attached to each delivery would have a different letter of the alphabet, beginning with J, where we had left off in our Getting to Know You Game. The florist’s hours gave me thirteen deliveries on the hour, but I still had seventeen letters to go. So W, X, Y, and Z would have to be done differently. Or maybe the next day. I hadn’t figured out that part of my plan yet.

I went to bed hopeful that my plan would work. If nothing else, she’d be forced to think about me at least once per hour. I imagined her receiving the deliveries, hoping she’d keep them and not toss them in the trash.

I tossed and turned all night, not sleeping well without her beside me.

And somehow, the thought of Julianne marrying Nick never crossed my mind as I worked toward mending the mess I had made out of whatever Lindsay and I were starting.

The first bouquet, which was a dozen pink tulips, was scheduled for eight in the morning. The note accompanying the flowers would read, “J is for JOKE. I’m starting light. Why was the math book sad? Because it had too many problems. I miss you, G. Please give me another chance. –T”

I received a text message from the florist just after 8:00 saying that the flowers had been delivered. I hoped she laughed at the corny joke. It certainly made me laugh every time I told it.

I waited patiently by my phone for some reaction from her, but, to my disappointment, nothing came through.

The 9:00 confirmation came through just after I settled into my desk with a fresh cup of coffee. I was feeling good, like this was going to work. The note that she just received at work along with a balloon bouquet said, “K is for KICK Myself Moment: Being so wrapped in my own selfishness that I stood you up. Please forgive me. –T”

And the 10:00 confirmation came through in the middle of a conference call that I was on. That one confirmed that six white and pink stargazer lilies had been delivered with the note that said, “L is for LISTEN. I need you to listen to my explanation. I can only hope that after you do, you’ll excuse my behavior. –T”

I was still on the same call when the confirmation came through at 11:00 that six pink roses had been delivered. “M is for MISERY. I am miserable without you. It’s also for MISS YOU. Come back to me. –T”

My day was passing quickly, and it was nearly time for lunch. I headed to Dan’s office to see if he wanted to go somewhere.

“How’s the big plan working?” he asked.

“Not sure,” I shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything from her yet, but I keep getting delivery confirmations. Ready for lunch?”

He nodded, and we set off to a local burger joint. Just after noon, the next delivery confirmation came for box of chocolates and card that said, “N is for NEEDS. I need you, Lindsay. I don’t think you understand how much I’m suffering without you. –T”

And not two minutes later, another text came through. I glanced at the screen, and it was from Lindsay.
 
This is both overwhelming and embarrassing. How many more?

“Breakthrough,” I said to Dan, showing him the text. Then I replied:
 
All the way to Z, baby. Or until you talk to me.

Her reply made me laugh out loud.
 
It’s worth the embarrassment to see the ridiculous amounts of money you must be spending.

You’re worth it. I hope it’s convincing you to give me another chance.

She didn’t reply.

“What are you going to do when the florist closes?”

I shrugged. “Got any ideas?”

We brainstormed over lunch, and I came up with the next part of my plan.

I was back at work when the 1:00 delivery was confirmed. Another half dozen stargazer lilies with a note that read, “O is for OPTIMISTIC. I am optimistic that you will call me soon. Will you? –T”

I had a meeting to go into at 1:30, but I brought my phone just in case she decided to call. I would drop whatever I was doing just to hear her voice. My meeting was for a complex housing multiple entertainment venues (a “multi-
tainment” center) that our firm was working on. Dan was the lead on the project, and he had delegated some portions out to other people; I was one of those people, in addition to Spencer, Craig, Melissa, and Brendon, and I had to present a few sketch ideas at this meeting that would place the buildings in context. In other words, I had to design some spaces and explain why they were appropriate for the people who would be using them. I had spent the better part of the morning prepping for it between checking my phone for the delivery confirmations, and I had a good handle on my basic designs. I was excited to present my ideas at my first group meeting in San Diego.

At 2:00, the next delivery was confirmed as I sat in my meeting. This time I sent a bouquet with red, pink, and white roses, lilies, and Gerbera daisies. The message in this one was important, and I wanted her to see that with a bigger bouquet. The note said, “P is for PRIORITY. You will always be my top priority. I know I didn’t act like that on Sunday, but I need you to hear me out. I know priorities have been an issue for you in the past, but I promise that they won’t be in the future. Not if you give me the chance to let me explain. –T”

I thought that the note about priorities might have an effect on her, but I didn’t get a response. I had to be wearing her down, though. I had to believe that my plan was working.

I was still in my meeting when the next confirmation came through. Spencer was walking us through some zoning laws for the complex as I thought about the note attached to the half dozen white roses that Lindsay had just received. “Q is for QUOTE,” my 3:00 note said. “My favorite television show is
Seinfeld
, and George once said something to a woman that sums up how I feel when I look at you: ‘You’re extremely attractive, you’re gorgeous. I’m looking at you. I can’t even remember my name.’ Give me the chance to forget my own name again. –T”

At 4:00, I was back in my office when I received the next delivery text. I was on a call with my dad, actually, discussing some details about a project I’d
handed off when I left Arizona. This one accompanied six white calla lilies. “R is for REGRET. My biggest regret is how I treated you. I know you’re upset with me, but I need to tell you what happened. And if you still haven’t called me, I might have to reveal it in one of these notes. Hope you aren’t throwing these away. –T”

I wasn’t exactly sure of her schedule, but I acted on the assumption that she’d head for home after work. So I had the last delivery to her work come a little before 5:00 just to be sure she got them before she left. The last work delivery was a single balloon that said “I’m Sorry” along with
a note that read, “S is for SORRY. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this sorry before in my life. Please give me a chance, G. –T”