Crescendo

Chapter 12

Daniel brought me a bouquet of delphiniums, bright blue and losing petals with every step he took in my apartment.

I had never gotten flowers unless the condolence bouquets after my parents' deaths counted.

I don't think they do.

So the gesture alone, apart from Daniel's shy smile and shaky explanation, made me blush. I had asked for them, sure, but I never expected him to follow through.

I excused myself, claiming that I had to grab something from my room. But really, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, willing the pink hue of my cheeks to disappear.

He brought them to "look the part" of a doting, devoted boyfriend. Now that our relationship had gone public, we had to be cautious of our image.

No more late-night drives with Jay.

What a shame.

When I opened my bedroom door, expecting to see Daniel on the couch where I left him, I saw a blue, scattered trail leading to the kitchen.

I followed the path, listening to the sound of clanking glass in the kitchen.

"Can I help you?" I asked, a smile already tugging at my cheeks.

"Do you have a vase?" Daniel turned, flowers still in hand, "I think they need water."

I glanced around the bare counters, "Will you accept a mason jar? "

He laughed, "You have Mason jars laying around?"

I shrugged, "Tessa furnished my apartment and thought I needed a million of them to use as water glasses."

Daniel frowned but didn't stop me when I opened the cabinet closest to the fridge and handed him the largest jar I had for the poor, thirsty flowers.

"This is a travesty," he wiggled the mason jar for dramatic effect.

"You can't bring a girl flowers and then be judgmental about her vase selection. It defeats the purpose."

"Oh, is that in the fake boyfriend handbook?"

I rolled my eyes, "Maybe it should be."

"Great. Let me know when you write it," he winked, turning away only to put the flowers in their new, cramped glass home on my breakfast counter.

I let his quip slide, unwilling to start a fight that the paparazzi could capture on film. "What's the plan?" I asked, knowing he didn't come over to turn his nose at my vases, or lack thereof.

"Lunch," he responded, drying his hands with a paper towel.

I stared at him, expecting more, waiting for the itinerary of the "date".

He sighed, "When we get to the restaurant, some lovely people may or may not be waiting to take some candid photos."

"And you didn't tell me that first because?"

"Because candids look better if you're actually surprised. It's common knowledge."

"I'll remember that." I smiled, watching his expression shift from casual to concerned before grabbing my bag and heading to the front door.

Daniel followed on my heels. "Was that a threat?" When I didn't respond, he asked again.

I decided to let him sweat it out.

****

The French bistro on the other side of town made me feel underdressed and out of place. Tessa had been trying me to go out more often, to hobnob with the wealthier residents of the city.