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Ryland heard the knock at the door and knew instantly what it was. He hadn't ordered dinner or any other delivery. Colt would have just used his spare key and besides he was filming somewhere on the the east coast right now. Anyone else would have called first. Ryland dragged himself from his spot on the couch and paused the nature documentary he was watching before tossing the remote down on the coffee table littered with empty ramen cups and soda cans.
The person at the door knocked again and Ryland called out, "Coming!" so they wouldn't leave and make him go to the apartment complex office to get the delivery. He'd had to do that three times already and they were starting to give him weird looks about this.
Running a hand through his hair and wiping crumbs off his shirt, Ryland hoped he didn't look too bad when he opened the door. It was probably a futile effort since by the smell it had been a few days since he'd showered or even changed his clothes. So screw him, break ups sucked and he was allowed to wallow. It was summer, he had the time.
Bracing himself, he opened the door, just as the delivery driver for the local florist shop turned to walk away. "Hey, sorry for keeping you waiting. I'm here." He called before the woman made it more than two steps away from his door.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Grace. I've got another delivery for you!" The woman was one he'd seen half a dozen times now and she was always so cheerful. It was almost enough to make a heartbroken man sick. She probably had no idea what to do with him, especially since he was sure most of her deliveries were to people who would be way more enthusiastic to be receiving bouquet after bouquet of roses.
Looking at her name tag again, he said "Thanks, Regina. Do you need a signature this time?"already knowing what the answer would be.
"Yes, same as always. It's either a signature or a picture, and I know which you always choose!" she smiled and pulled out her tablet with the signature form already active and waiting for him.
As she handed over the boxed bouquet, Regina turned and headed toward her delivery van. She was pleasant enough, but Ryland kind of hoped to never see her again. Shaking his head, he retreated back into his apartment, setting the box on the kitchen counter. He opened it up, finding the customary dozen roses and the card he knew would be there.
How long the needless violence lasts is really up to you. Tell me how many flowers have to die before you give this love another try? I am so sorry, love. I miss you. Please forgive me. - Francis
It was a variation on the same theme for every bouquet he'd gotten thus far. He kept the card. It joined eight other cards on the counter. He tossed the roses. He headed back to the couch and then hesitated. Maybe he should take a shower first. He didn't want Regina to see him in the same outfit when she inevitably came back with more roses tomorrow.
While he showered, Ryland thought about how stupid this whole situation was. He honestly didn't think Fran had meant even half of the things he said during their argument and yet he couldn't—wouldn't—be the one to give in. If Fran would just take back what he said, he'd take him back. He just couldn't be with someone so willfully ignorant if there was even a chance he believed the nonsense he'd been spouting.
Ryland found himself back in bed after his shower, sobbing into an undershirt that Fran had forgotten after Ryland had tossed it off of him. He could still faintly smell the mix of cologne and tobacco that was so distinctly Fran. Or at least the imagined he could smell him. God, he missed his boyfriend. He found himself staring at his contact in his phone and nearly called so many times. No. He could be strong. He needed a real apology and not just a vague threat to depopulate the world of roses to gain his affections again.
Like clockwork, the next afternoon arrived and so did Regina. This time Ryland was ready for her knock and he had on clean clothes. She probably wouldn't recognize him. It turned out he didn't recognize the person at the door. When he opened the door, an older woman was standing there, wearing an apron from the same florist shop, holding the same box as the previous nine deliveries.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Grace!" said the woman, just as cheerfully as Regina had ever been.
"Hello," he said hesitantly. "I hope Regina is okay. She usually brings my deliveries," he finished somewhat lamely.
"Oh, Regina is just fine. I'll tell her you were concerned though! Such a sweet young man. No wonder someone is trying so hard to get back in your good graces!" The last was said with a wink, acknowledging the pun on his name. "I was just so curious as to who all these roses were for, so I decided to deliver today's bouquet personally."
"Ah, that's sweet of you, ma'am. I honestly think they're more for my boyfriend's ego than for me. He'd rather spend hundreds of dollars on flowers than admit to being wrong," Ryland said, more candidly than he'd intended.
The older woman just nodded as if she'd seen this scenario play out dozens of times before. Perhaps she had. "If you'll permit an old woman who has been married for fifty-eight years to give you a bit of relationship advice, tell him what you need him to do. Don't just assume he knows and is ignoring that. Men can be blind as well as stubborn, as I'm sure you know being one yourself!"
"Thank you. I'll take that under advisement," Ryland said as he gestured toward the tablet to leave his signature. This interaction was getting a little too real and he was ready to be alone again.
"Oh, we don't have to do the signature this time! Let me take a picture to send to your young love. Let him see you so he knows you're getting along alright without him," she held up the tablet as if to use the camera on it instead of letting him sign as he always did.
Sensing that she wasn't going to let it go easily, Ryland sighed and then straightened and pasted on a smile. The woman took the picture and then handed him the box of roses. Before she left she said, "As much as I appreciate the repeat business, I hope you and your man work things out soon."
Back in his kitchen, Ryland opened the box of flowers. Another dozen roses, but instead of red they were pink this time. He wondered if there was a reason for the color change. Maybe the shop finally ran out of red after all the deliveries he'd already gotten.
The card was unique as always. Fran certainly had a way with words.
Stop the senseless killing, can't you hear the roses cry? Baby, how many flowers have to die? I'm so so so sorry love. I miss you. I want you. I need you. - Francis
Ryland smiled in spite of himself. Instead of the trash can, he put these roses in a vase. Then he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text before he could talk himself out of it.
🧡 Fran 🧡
Hey
Ry my love!
Have you changed your mind?
…
You're still on that?
I can't be with someone so willfully wrong.
I can't have my own opinions?
Not when they are provably false!
There is so much evidence to back me up here!
I'm still not convinced.
Then I'm not convinced we're right for each other.
User blocked. Unblock to receive messages from this sender.
The next day, there was a knock at the door. When Ryland went to open it, there was no florist delivery person there. Instead, a small box sat on his welcome mat. Ryland picked it up and carried it inside, closing the door behind him after taking a peek around to see who could have left it. He didn't see anyone lingering nearby which meant Fran was probably hiding just out of sight.
Curious, he took the package to the kitchen counter and opened it up. Inside sat a small crocheted bean bag like the ones he used in his class to play "the bean bag is lava!" with his students. This one was blue and green and looked like the Earth. At the bottom of the box was a folded note covered in Fran's handwriting. "You are right. I started off just trying to annoy you so you'd get mad and glare at me in that way you do when I'm being an idiot. You're so sexy when you get like that. I didn't expect to hit a nerve and then I got stubborn and dug in my heels. I'm not, nor have I ever truly been a flat-Earther. I'm sorry for letting you think you'd been dating someone so ridiculous. I love you and I miss you and I want to make my stupidity up to you. Maybe you can yell at me a little and then we can make up?" - Francis
Ryland heaved a sigh of relief. He had honestly been hoping the answer was something like this, but he was not willing to budge if he'd been sincere about that nonsense. A scientist had to have standards even if their boyfriend was sexy as hell. He pulled out his phone and unblocked Fran's number. Then he sent a text that said, "Come here, you idiot." Fran was at the door in less than a minute.
From: Gail Meyer ([email protected])
To: Tom Ryder ([email protected])
Subject: Suspicious bank activity
Tom, your accountant has alerted me that there is some odd activity on one of your credit cards. Have you been buying a large amount of flowers? There are ten separate identical charges totaling over $1400. It was one transaction per day for nearly two weeks. You may want to call your bank and have them send you a new card. Or tell me who the hell you are buying flowers for. You need to warn your PR team if you are doing shit like that, Tom