The sweet fragrance, full and overpowering, invaded her senses like the memories flashing through her head. Chill bumps covered every inch of her body.

Shayla knew better than to send roses, especially on her birthday, so did, Sara. Even her father would never cross that line.

Carrie Ann ripped the card from the clear prongs. Her fingers trembled as she opened the small envelope.

I’m teaching Drew how to ask a woman out on a date…Properly

I miss you, Red

Have dinner with me

Happy birthday

Summer

Her chin quivered as the gash in her heart tore a little deeper, stealing the air from her lungs. Tears caught at the rim of her lashes as a hot wave of shame, unexpected and unwanted, washed over her. Tremors wracked her body, staring at the blur of red laid atop the dark wooden table.

Carrie Ann’s knees buckled and she sank to the sofa. Painful heartache she’d swept into the far frayed edges of her heart spilled down her cheeks.

She didn’t know how long she sat, crumpled in a ball weeping, staring at the bouquet before hearing another knock at the door. Moving to her feet in a daze, she gaped out the peephole. It didn’t do any good, she couldn’t see through the blur of wetness.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me! Open up birthday girl!” Shayla chimed cheerfully.

Unable to think clearly, Carrie Ann turned the knob without even bothering to check her appearance.

“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” Shayla dropped her purse to the floor, grabbing her by the shoulders taking close inspection.

Carrie Ann shook her head back and forth, palming her face to wipe away the onslaught of tears. She tried to speak, but nothing came out, only shaky sniffles and huffs of air, as she attempted to catch her breath.

“What is it?” Worry saturated Shayla’s tone.

Carrie Ann made another pass at her tear streaked cheeks, waiting for her voice to return. Years of guilt and sorrow began to unravel, mixing hazardously with a dose of fury.

Looking down at the card crumpled between her fingers, she motioned wildly toward the roses shoving the card toward Shayla. “Fucking, Summer.”

“Oh.” Shayla’s eyes widened in shock and then instantly tapered into a cringe. “Oh shit.”

Carrie Ann nodded in agreement. Out of all the years they’d been friends, she’d only cried in front of Shayla once. She couldn’t hold back anymore. Her face contorted and her body quaked as she eased forward, wrapped her arms around Shayla’s waist, holding to her like a lifeline.

“Aww. Come here.”

“And it’s today, Shay. Of all the fucking days he could do this shit me?” She struggled to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Shayla swayed back and forth, soothing her breakdown as if she were a small child. Her arms, heavy and encumbered, dropped to her sides in defeat.

After a moment of comforting, she said softly, “Carrie Ann, he doesn’t know.”

“I…know… but it had to be…roses? On my birthday?” Words came in fits, sucking deep breaths of air through her open mouth.

“I’m so sorry.” Shayla led her to the living room, tossing a few colorful pillows to the corner of the modern cube-like white sofa, encouraging Carrie Ann to sit. “He would never do this to you on purpose.”

Dropping her head back, she released an anxiety filled huff of air. The coolness of the leather brought relief to her heated skin. Carrie Ann stared up at the exposed rafters, reigning in her show of emotions.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Carrie Ann shook her head.

“You want a glass a wine?” she asked eventually, already heading for the kitchen. “Or how about a Cosmo?”

“Definitely a Cosmo.”

Listening to Shayla rummage through the liquor cabinet, her breathing began returning to normal.

“You’re almost out of Cointreau.” Shayla informed conversationally. Her soft voice holding notes of compassion. She knew better than to push the Do you want to talk about it? It was a subject that had been tabled for years.

Carrie Ann grabbed a turquoise pillow from the corner, holding it to her front as she sank deeper into the leather. Her view returned to the ceiling. “I just can’t believe this is happening. Seriously? After all these years ‘I miss you. Have dinner with me?’ What the hell is he thinking?”

Shayla peered beneath the contemporary cabinets floating above the granite top kitchen island. The concern stretching across her face moderated. “So, does this mean we can talk about it?”

Her head tilted in the barest twitch of a nod.

“You’re not really surprised by this, are you? It’s not like he hasn’t tried to reach out to you a few times,” Shayla affirmed loudly over the ice tumbling in the shaker.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s usually a very wishful-thinking 2:00am booty call…not a date.”

Shayla rounded the kitchen corner. Her eyes widened in a questioning manner, handing off the martini glass filled with pale pink cure-all.

“What’s that look supposed to mean?”

“It means…you know damned well Summer doesn’t call you in the middle of the night for a booty call. Not that he doesn’t have an obsession with your ass, but we both know that’s not why he calls.”

Carrie Ann glared over the rim of her glass pulling a lengthy sip of the Cosmo.

“You put it on the table. I’m just keeping it real, my friend.” Her tone wavered between empathy and logic.

“Seriously, Shayla. Every time I’m around the man it takes less than five minutes for me to want to grab him by the balls for one reason or another.”

Shayla’s brow raised to a defined point of inquiry. “And that reason would be?”

“To inflict an unbearable amount of discomfort.” Tight crinkles scrunched and contorted across her forehead. The fingers of her non-cocktail hand curled around the corners of the pillow, squeezing into a tight fist.

“And the other reason?”

Carrie Ann sucked in a deep breath, pulling it all the way to her toes. She tossed Shayla an exaggerated around-the-world-eye roll. Releasing a brash short-tempered huff from her nostrils, she cast an index finger at her best friend. “You know what the other reason is. The man drives me fucking crazy. He knows how to push all of my buttons.”

“Apparently.” Shayla batted her lashes.

“He has that, that…that thing he does.”

“Breathing?”

“He pisses me off beyond belief.” Implosion was now eminent. “Fuck! Fuckity-fuck! He exerts this…this aura of possession. He has some nerve walking straight up into my space, touching my hair, sending me flowers.”

“Personally, I just don’t think he can help it.”

She ignored the sappiness. “I have a hard time concentrating around him. I haven’t been laid in months and my hooha is the most disloyal bitch on the face of the earth.” Carrie Ann threw a karate chop hand signal to her crotch. “She betrays me every time I see him!”

“You know how much I love you, right?” she questioned warily.

Her mouth gaped open and snapped shut. “What? Are you taking his side now?”

“No. Not at all. It’s just, you’re both two of my favorite people in the world. Maybe—”

“Fuck me,” she growled indignantly. “You are taking his side.”

“I am not taking his side, Carrie Ann. It’s not a contest.”

“Then what? Maybe I should what, Shayla? Give him another chance? Is that what you were about to say?”

Silence.

The silence was deafening.

“It’s just…” Her voice softened to a whisper, strumming a chord of motherly intuition. “I simply think you need to get a few things off your chest.”

Shayla refused to take sides, staking claim to Switzerland a decade ago. Carrie Ann’s heart beat so forcefully, pressure points pulsed painfully at her wrists and neck. Her miniature melt down quickly turned to tenacity.

“I can’t believe you think I should go on a date with him.”