Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

22. Declan

22

DECLAN

T here were about forty seconds during which I thought I was doing the right thing, and then the reality of the situation hit me. I hadn’t told Hannah I loved her, even though she’d said it to me. I hadn’t told her anything except that my life was in New York, and then I’d walked out the door when she misunderstood. In less than a minute I’d destroyed the best thing to ever happen to me.

I buzzed over and over again, but Hannah didn’t answer. I called and texted and left messages begging her to talk to me, but she wasn’t answering those either, and soon it didn’t ring, but rather went straight to her voicemail. I closed my eyes for a full minute, rubbing my forehead, then sat down on the stoop outside her front door, figuring Truman would have to go out to the bathroom sooner or later.

Fifty-three minutes passed. I mostly stared at my phone, hoping she’d respond, but she didn’t text or call, and she didn’t come down. At minute fifty-four, I noticed a man striding across the courtyard toward me. I stood as he approached. He was middle-aged, probably in his early-fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a dark beard. He wore Dickies slacks and a work shirt. “You need to leave here,” he said simply .

I smiled politely. “I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Son, you’re not waiting here. You can call whomever and tell them to meet you in any one of the bars nearby.” His words were friendly, but his tone broached little argument. I stood, considering him, but made no move to leave. Without Hannah, I had nothing to lose. His chin dipped and he blinked, twice, slowly, giving me a look that suggested he’d already sized me up and was unconcerned. “I’m the manager of this building, and if you won’t leave on your own, I’ll have to call the cops to move you along.”

“You’re George.” I stuck out my hand to shake the building manager’s hand, but he only stared at me. “Hannah mentioned you. She speaks highly of you.”

His face softened a touch, but he didn’t make a move to shake my hand. “You’re waiting for Hannah?”

“I am.”

“She’s up there, I imagine?” He tipped his head toward her apartment. I nodded my reply, hope blossoming in my chest that, finally, someone could help. “I’ll check on her,” he continued, “but you still need to head out.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and I walked away, heading to the bar across the street. Ten minutes later, I could see Truman exit the building to use the bathroom, but it was George holding his leash.

Hopeless, I headed home.

The next day, I went to Whittaker Floral. I knew there was something desperate about showing up there, but I was a desperate man, no longer caring how I appeared to others. I knew if I could just get Hannah to stop and listen we could figure things out, and if I couldn’t, we were through. I couldn’t imagine the best thing in my life ending from such a stupid misunderstanding.

I walked into the shop and was greeted by Julia, the pretty face behind the front desk I remembered from my first visit to Whittaker. In our conversations, Hannah had described her as sweet but young and a perpetual gossip. I wasn’t looking to make Hannah the fodder for gossip, so I put on a smile as I approached, hoping not to draw any suspicion. “Julia, right? Is Hannah around?”

“Nope,” Julia responded brightly. “She’s home sick today.” My stomach sank. Julia squinted slightly as she began to compute my lack of knowledge regarding Hannah’s illness. She cocked her head and looked ready to say something, but she was interrupted by a tall, beautiful brunette walking in. The woman was vaguely familiar from the baseball game, but I hadn’t paid much attention to anyone except Hannah that night. The brunette looked at me and then back to Julia, obviously awaiting an explanation. “Matty, this is Declan Andrews. He was just looking for Hannah, but I let him know she’s out sick.”

So this was Matty, the best friend I was yet to meet.

Matty’s professional smile never faltered, but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and it was clear she understood far more than Julia did. “Julia, can you go find the paperwork for the Stuart account? I need to go over it.”

Julia smiled brightly and headed out of the room, turning back to me with a little wave. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” My smile didn’t falter until Julia left the room and I stood nearly eye-to-eye with Matty, who stared at me with blatant suspicion now that we were alone.

“Hannah doesn’t miss work,” she said flatly. I didn’t know how to respond. “It’s been over five years and Hannah has missed zero days, until today, and here you come looking for her. Quite a coincidence.” She blinked at me, clearly awaiting a response.

“We had a misunderstanding,” I replied lamely. She pursed her lips, crossing her thin arms across her chest. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I felt compelled to explain more thoroughly—to not allow Matty to assume the worst. “We had a misunderstanding that was my fault and it hurt her feelings, but I love her and if she’d talk to me we would resolve this, I know.” I sighed, looking down for a moment before my eyes shot back up to Matty’s. “Please don’t tell her I love her. ”

Matty’s face curled into an expression that was a mixture of confusion and distaste, and I ran my hand through my hair, embarrassed to have to share this with a stranger. She wasn’t a stranger to Hannah, though, she was the closest thing Hannah had to family, so I sighed and shared the rest of the story slowly. “She told me she loved me and wanted me to move in, but I live in New York. I can’t just up and move to Chicago, and I said that—I said it all wrong—and obviously I should’ve told her I loved her back, because I’ve spent weeks trying not to tell her and worrying about saying it when we talk or kiss or hang up the phone or even in my damn sleep.” Once the words began to flow, they came quickly, until I could hear I was babbling but couldn’t stop. “I’ve been so worried I’ll say it too soon and scare her off that I spend my free time looking at articles online about when to say it—like a fucking fourteen-year-old girl—and when she finally said it I was too busy thinking about everything else to say it back.” I paused only long enough to take a deep breath. “My point is, I don’t want her to hear it from a text or a voicemail or from you, I want to look into her eyes and tell her how much I love her.” My shoulders sagged as I ran my hand through my hair again.

Matty considered me quietly, her nose still curled as if she’d encountered a foul odor. Hell, maybe it was me. Maybe I smelled. I’d been far too distracted thinking about Hannah to remember to shower today. “Okay,” Matty said finally.

“Okay?” Hope soared in my chest, although I was no closer to earning Hannah’s forgiveness.

Matty nodded. “Okay,” she repeated simply. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, which means I won’t glitter bomb you—at least, not until after I talk to Hannah.I’m Matty Whittaker, by the way, since we still haven’t officially met.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said quietly. Of course I knew this was Matty, and of course I understood how big a leap she was taking, trusting me when I’d never taken the time to get to know her.

For a beat, there was silence between us, and I wondered if it was better to plead my case or to just leave. “You should go,” Matty said firmly. “We have a lot of work to do today and we’re short-handed.I’ll talk to Hannah.”

I nodded again, curling my lips between my teeth. “Thank you.”