Clive spent most of the next week as an anxious mess. He had replayed the events of the previous Monday in his head over and over again, examining his every word, her every reaction, every second that had passed starting from the moment she had texted him. When he was on his own between deliveries, he'd sometimes open the texts she had sent him and re-read them, trying to find some meaning hidden between the lines that would help him untangle the web he had found himself in.
By the time Monday had rolled around again, Clive had worked himself into a tizzy. He thought he could handle not understanding what had happened between them if only he could figure out what to do next. Her order would be coming in that afternoon, and he would need to be able to speak to his actions when he saw her again, or at least know how to act around her from then on out.
Eventually, he decided to try to act natural. He wouldn't bring it up if she didn't, and they would just return to their normal weekly conversations, shooting the breeze about whatever was on their minds that day. He'd just have to act casual.
Yeah, right. Clive hadn't been casual a day in his life .
He practically trudged into Cid's shop late Monday afternoon, his previous deliveries completed. His desire to see her again warred with his anxiety about explaining himself.
"All done?" Cid asked when he saw Clive dragging his feet into the shop. Clive only nodded, still lost in his thoughts. "Good work today," Cid said. "You can head home, just remember to plug in the delivery phone before you leave."
It took a moment for his comment to register. Clive's brows pulled together, and he raised his head to look at Cid. "Plug in the phone?" he asked, confused. He didn't usually leave the phone until his deliveries were completed. "Don't I still have one more delivery today?"
"You do not," Cid replied. "You're done for the day. You get to go home early - you can thank me for it later."
Clive only stared at Cid. "It's Monday afternoon," he said. Jill always had a delivery scheduled for Monday afternoon.
"Yes," Cid replied. "But we have no deliveries left. Why not enjoy the afternoon? Get home early before rush hour to see that hound of yours."
He didn't want to go home. He wanted to go visit Jill. Suddenly, all of his prior anxieties about what he would say when he saw her seemed to pale in comparison to the thought that he might not get to see her at all . He wanted to ask Cid about it, but he also had endured weeks of relentless teasing about the pleased look on his face whenever he'd come by to pick up her order. Did he want Cid knowing how much he looked forward to seeing Jill every week?
Clive decided to swallow his pride. As much as Cid's playful ribbing embarrassed him, he desperately wanted to know what had happened to her. "What about Miss Warrick's delivery?" he finally asked. "She has a regular Monday afternoon order."
Clive fully expected him to take the joking to the next level, poking fun at Clive for his obvious crush. He'd turn around and fetch her flowers from behind the countertop, some fabulous creation made of daffodils or some such this time, and tell him to hurry along to his "weekly date night". Instead, Cid's eyes softened, and his face turned sympathetic. Clive's stomach dropped into his feet.
"Sorry, lad," he said kindly. "Ms. Warrick didn't put in an order today."
"Are you sure?" Clive asked. "She always orders on Mondays."
"I'll double check," Cid said. He went over to the computer by the register, pulling up the delivery list. Clive approached and peered over his shoulder, but he could see the answer before Cid even spoke. "No new orders," Cid confirmed for him. He was even kind enough to pull up the customer profiles, but Jill's information confirmed that she had paid for and received her order last Monday, but had yet to make a new one.
"Oh," Clive said, because he didn't know what else to say. He felt nauseous. He felt dizzy. He felt anxious. He always felt anxious, but talking with Jill every week helped him to forget, at least for a little while. Now, he was remembering it at full force. He was silent for a long time, struck dumb by having the rug pulled out from him.
Finally, Cid took pity on him. "Maybe her order's been delayed," he suggested. "She could just be a bit late."
It was a long shot - she had been ordering custom bouquets for the most part, which normally required at least several hours notice even on a rush order, and usually at least a few days. Still, Clive seized onto that hope like a lifeline. "Yeah," he echoed. "Maybe it's just late."
"Exactly," Cid soothed. "Why don't you head home? I'll give you a call if it comes in so you can deliver it."
Clive shook his head emphatically. "I'd rather wait here," he said instead.
"If you'd like," Cid said gently.
And so Clive waited. And waited. And waited. After half an hour, he made a run to the coffee shop across the street for something warm to drink. It had yet to stop raining, and even though he was indoors the wind seemed to have stolen all the warmth out of him during his earlier deliveries. He couldn't have been out of the building for longer than ten minutes, but he rushed back to the shop, latte in hand, and looked hopefully at Cid as soon as he came in through the front door.
Cid only shook his head once he saw his beseeching look, and Clive deflated. He turned his head away and trudged back to the chair he had been sitting in. He bent over with his elbows resting on his knees, his cup cradled in his hands between them. Every once in a while, he'd start tapping his foot or bouncing his leg, just to expel some of the nervous energy. He tried not to think too hard, knowing that it would only bring him pain, pain that would simply evaporate when Jill's order finally came in and he'd be able to see her again.
He sat there for nearly three hours.
He didn't move as Cid shut off the lights, the shop slowly growing darker and darker. Outside, the rain was coming down harder, the wind picking up just a little louder.
Cid laid a hand on his shoulder. Clive hadn't heard him approach, but he was so numb, so defeated, that he didn't even startle. "I'm closing up the shop. I think it's time you headed home for the night."
He knew he was right. Still, he struggled to find the wherewithal to rise to his feet, to just drive home, without his weekly chat with Jill. "Yes," he finally agreed. "Maybe she's just running late and missed the deadline. Maybe she'll order tomorrow," he tacked on, more for his own benefit than Cid's. He needed something to cling on to, something to keep him going.
"Perhaps," Cid said neutrally, neither confirming nor denying his fears as Clive hauled himself to his feet and staggered out of the store. He drove home in a daze.
When he opened his front door, he expected Torgal to pounce on him, demanding affection and dinner and to be let out. Instead, though he came charging for Clive, he paused instead of tackling him to the ground, then nuzzled into his hand and leaned against his hip, apparently sensing his master's low mood and wanting to offer him comfort before making demands. Clive was grateful for it, and collapsed to his knees to bury his face in his dog's fur before finally allowing the tears to flow.
"I drove her away," he whimpered into his dog's fur. "I drove her away just like I do everything good in my life." He didn't know what was wrong with him. He had done it with his brother, avoiding him like the plague, even if it was for his own safety, until even Joshua had given up on reaching out to him. He had done it with every friend he had ever made, his damnable tongue betraying him and always saying the wrong thing at the worst time. He had even done it with his mother when he was just a boy, driving her to despise him for as long as he could remember. She had known then - that he would never be enough, that he was always too much , had even told him once that no one could ever love him. He had ignored her words once, thinking them just a casual cruelty that he had grown accustomed to under her.
But the worst part was that she was right . He was never going to be enough. He had always felt very deeply, and those emotions had led to impulsivity at times, even at the detriment of the people around him. Look at what he had done to Jill. She had been so kind to him, had welcomed him into her home, had shared her food and company with him, and how did he repay her? By practically shoving his thumb into her mouth uninvited, by trying to kiss her when she had given him every signal that she was uncomfortable. He had been so blinded by his base desires that he hadn't even noticed until she had practically jumped out of his arms. By showing him such kindness, she had given an inch, and by the Founder, he had taken a fucking mile and frightened her off in the process.
He couldn't blame her for wanting to avoid him from now on - he understood. He just wished it didn't hurt so much.
When Clive awoke the next morning, Torgal nestled up against his side comfortingly, he strongly debated calling in sick. His eyes were still red and puffy, his nose was stuffed, and there was a headache pounding behind his eyes. Even if he was well, he wouldn't have wanted to go - every delivery would only remind him of how Jill wasn't there to greet him, of how he had ruined everything once again.
But he did still go in, part of him hoping for the unlikely event that Jill had put in her order a day late. He just barely lifted his head to meet Cid's eyes when he walked in the front door, but he only shook his head.
"Could be the weather," Cid said. "Storm's been going all week. I heard it knocked down some power lines. Her phone or internet service could be down."
He doubted it, but he nodded along all the same even as his shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn't speak as he grabbed his first delivery of the day from the countertop and picked up the delivery phone, punching the listed address into the GPS.
The moment he stepped outside, a particularly strong gust of wind tore at his clothes, and on impulse, he curled his body around the flowers to protect their delicate petals from the raging force of the gale. He jogged to his car, securing the flowers and quickly entering the driver's side. He slammed the door shut behind him and tilted his head back to lean against the headrest, closing his eyes as he tried to calm himself.
As another gust whistled through his drafty car, another possibility struck him - worse than the thought that he had driven Jill away, worse than the idea that he had offended her and that she hated him now. She had mentioned she hated driving in bad weather like this, that it made her nervous and anxious for the people she cared about. The rain had made the roads slick, and the wind would try its best to push his vehicle into the other lane on open highways.
What if something had happened to her? There had been so many accidents that he had passed on that first day of the storm, ranging from minor collisions where the worst injury was a bruised ego to a particularly bad one where the entire car had practically been split in two around a telephone pole. What if she had been in one, and had been injured or worse ?
He would have no way of knowing if that was the case. They had no contact outside of their weekly chats. If she had died in some horrible car accident, he would never know. She could be gone from the world already and he would have been none the wiser.
Clive gripped the steering wheel in front of him until his knuckles turned white. No. That couldn't be the case. He couldn't believe that she would have died without even causing a ripple. There would have been news articles, television segments dedicated to it, signs dragged across the sky by airplanes announcing the great loss the world had just suffered. Even if he had only known her for a short time, she had made such an impression on him, carved out such a large space in his heart for her, he couldn't believe that she would have died without him sensing it in some way.
So Clive went about his deliveries and did his best not to think about it. She was upset with him, and though it hurt, he deserved it, and he could stand her scorn. What he couldn't stand was the idea that she had just passed from the world, her light permanently extinguished.
But he did think about it. He thought about it with every delivery, every time he entered Cid's Flowers and hoped her order was just delayed, thought about it when a rare order of snow daisies came into the shop, thought about it as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment at night and prayed for sleep. He thought about it when Monday afternoon rolled around the next week and there was still no order from her.
By the time the Monday after that came, Clive was a worried mess. Once more, Cid was sending him home early, his deliveries done for the day with no news from Jill. He sat in his car in the parking lot outside of Cid's and, finally, broke down and pulled out his personal phone to bring up his social media apps. He rarely posted anything himself, but he used them to follow the page for Cid's Flowers and the others who worked there, as well as to quietly keep tabs on Joshua. With trembling fingers, he punched her name into the first one in the search function.
She had a profile, but it was set to private. Damn. He briefly considered sending her a friend request, but getting a friend request from the guy who dropped off your flower delivery every week would probably be pretty creepy. Besides, if something had happened to her, she wouldn't even be around to accept the request.
He tried the next website. No profile. And then another one, which had a profile but which was also set to private. A quick internet search brought up her business profile, but it was bare bones, with little more than her work experience and credentials. She clearly existed, but seemed to be a private person without much public information accessible.
Clive debated his next move. Unfortunately, there were few. He could pull her phone number from the work phone and try calling or texting it, but he immediately balked at the idea. Stealing a client's number from work would not only be incredibly creepy, especially if she was upset with him, but would paint Cid's Flowers in a bad light. He just wanted to make sure she was safe, not frighten her. For similar reasons, he couldn't simply show up at her door, either.
For the first time, he cursed the fact that he only knew her from work. It may have presented a good opportunity to get to know her, a safe script he could fall back on whenever he didn't know what to say, but it also left him frustratingly few avenues to communicate with her. If he had mustered up the courage to ask for her number or to see if she wanted to be friends on social media, at least he would have a way to reach out to her and make sure she was safe. As it was, the only way he would be able to see her again to check in on her was if he had a flower delivery for her.
If he had a delivery for her.
Of course . It was so deceptively simple, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. If he was delivering flowers to her, then he had an excuse to be at her house and would be able to check in on her. Of course, she hadn't requested a delivery to her house - but that didn't mean that he couldn't make a delivery just the same.
Still, he worried about going through with it. Even if he manufactured an excuse to go see her, he was still showing up at her house uninvited. If she was well, then she probably wouldn't want to see him. But if she wasn't well, then he wanted to know - and there was only one way to find out. The two contradicting feelings of wanting to see her and not wanting to disturb her any further warred within him.
In the end, the desire to see her safe and whole in person won out. It was stupid and selfish, but he just wanted to see her one more time, just to know she was well. Then, he'd leave her be and be out of her life for good.
Cid did a double-take when Clive walked back into the flower shop. "Didn't I send you home?" he asked.
"Yes," Clive said. "I just wanted to buy some flowers."
Cid's eyebrows slowly rose towards his hairline as he gave Clive a strange look. "You've never bought flowers from me before," Cid said cautiously. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned."
Clive shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. "First time for everything?"
Cid shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. Anything in particular you want?"
He hadn't thought this far ahead. Red roses? No, too romantic. Such flowers were for lovers, and as much as he wanted to say that they were, that was about the furthest thing he was from Jill. Lilies, maybe? Or sunflowers?
No. There was only one flower that he wanted to bring to her. Its scent had been taunting him for weeks, always drawing his thoughts back to it - and to her. "Snow daisies," he told him. She had mentioned that they were her favorite flower when they had first met. Maybe they would soften the blow of him showing up at her doorway out of the blue.
"Snow daisies," Cid repeated. "Anything else?"
"Just the daisies," Clive replied.
"Snow daisies it is," Cid confirmed, disappearing into the back room. He returned several minutes later, a small bouquet of snow daisies in his hands. The stems were wrapped in paper and tied with a neat bow. He had even added a little bit of greenery to accent the white of the flowers.
"Thanks," Clive said, and reached for his wallet to pay for the flowers.
Cid waved him away. "On the house, just for today," he told him. "Any more after this, you'll have to pay. Just be happy you get your employee discount if you're going to keep buying snow daisies, eh?"
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. You've done great work since you started here. I've never had a complaint. Consider this a gift from me to you, just this once," he said. "And good luck today - I'm sure whoever that's going to will love them." Cid winked at him with the last statement.
Clive flushed. Was he that obvious? "Thanks," he mumbled.
If Cid noticed he snuck behind the counter before leaving to snag the delivery phone, he didn't comment, which Clive was thankful for. Instead, he slipped out of the store and made for his car, the snow daisies still in hand.
Clive didn't bother plugging Jill's address into the GPS. Though it had been almost three weeks since he had last seen her, he had driven to her apartment every week for a few months preceding that, and had looked forward to it every time. At this point, he was fairly certain that he could have driven there blindfolded.
It took him a little longer than usual to make the drive out to her apartment building. He was a little later than he would have normally been, so he ran into more traffic, but truthfully, he was distracted. Every time he hit a red light, every time he pulled to a four way intersection, he not only literally stopped, but mentally paused to second guess himself. He wondered if he was making the right choice, if he should just leave her in peace.
But every time, he didn't turn around like he told himself he should. The light turned green, and Clive's resolve returned. He just wanted to see her, just one more time.
Finally, he arrived at her apartment building and pulled into a parking spot. This time, he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the work phone and copied his script over from the notes app to inform her that he was approaching with a delivery and asked her to buzz him up. As he gathered the flowers in his arms, his phone buzzed with a notification, and from the preview he could see a number of question marks and exclamation points, but no text telling him to go away and leave her alone. He didn't know what it meant, but decided to take it as a good sign - or at least a neutral one, because it meant that she was alive and well enough to answer her text messages. Or, at least, someone had her phone and was responding for her. He knew he wouldn't feel truly content until he saw her face again.
However, his confidence started to wane further and further as he entered the building, as the doorman waved him along, as he waited for the elevator to rise up to her floor. By the time he was standing outside of her door, he was tempted to simply turn around and go back to his car.
He was about to chicken out and do just that when the door swung open without him even needing to knock, revealing a rather disheveled looking Jill Warrick. Her hair was loose and her cheeks were flushed like she had run to the door, like she had sensed him waiting there debating with himself. Her feet were bare, and the strap of her tank top was sliding down the slope of her shoulder. Best of all, she looked uninjured. There were no bruises or cuts anywhere that he could see, and she seemed to be moving around just fine. She looked the very picture of health. Clive felt something inside his heart unclench at the sight of her safe, sound, and unhurt, instead of laying in a hospital bed or cold grave somewhere.
"Clive?" she asked, her tone surprised, her eyes wide.
"Hello," he said sheepishly, now realizing how silly it was to worry as much as he had, how much he had let his anxiety dictate his impulsive actions. "I have a delivery from Cid's Flowers." Truthfully, he had no idea what to say. Better to fall back onto his script until he knew what to do.
"I can see that," Jill said, still looking shocked, but an expression of amusement flickering in her eyes, as well. "I'm a little confused, though. Not that I'm not happy to see you, but I didn't order any flowers today."
"I know," Clive replied, and fell back onto the response he had prepared. "The flowers were ordered to be delivered to you."
Her brow furrowed. "You mean that someone ordered flowers for me? Like a gift?"
A gift. Yes. He liked that. "That's correct," he told her.
"Who?" she asked, her head tilting slightly.
Clive blinked at her. "What do you mean, 'who'?"
"Who ordered flowers to be delivered to my doorstep?"
Clive's thoughts stopped in their tracks. Who had ordered flowers delivered to Jill's door? He was drawing a blank. He probably should have planned who the delivery was supposed to be from, but truthfully, he didn't really think he'd get this far. He thought he'd be turned away by the doorman, or would change his mind when he pulled up to her building, or would knock on her door and no one would answer because she was hurt or already gone. "Didn't I already say?" he hedged.
"If you did, I didn't hear it," Jill said. "Tell me again?"
He wracked his brain and tried to come up with an answer, but he drew a blank. He didn't know enough of Jill's life, didn't know enough people in her social circle, to be able to come up with a convincing lie. Even if he did, the moment she asked them about it or tried to thank them for the flowers, they'd tell her that they hadn't ordered her flowers and his little ruse would be laid bare.
He was left with frustratingly few options, and Clive was beginning to panic. What was he to do? Tell her the truth, that he had bought her flowers and then showed up at her address, which he still remembered by heart? Definitely not. He would look like a stalker, showing up at her home uninvited with flowers and his heart in his hands. He'd be lucky if she didn't call the building's security to throw him out on his ass, or even worse, the police to arrest him while she filed a restraining order. He probably would deserve it, too, even if he just wanted to check on her safety. He would accept the punishment, but now that he knew she was well, he would leave her in peace, even if it would leave him heartbroken in the process.
Clive suddenly regretted not just messaging her from the work phone to make sure she was safe, or sending a friend request on social media. It would have been a little weird, a little awkward, but had to be far less creepy than just showing up at her doorway out of the blue. If he could get out of this without being put in handcuffs, he'd die a happy man. But who in the world did he know that would deliver Jill flowers, beyond himself?
That was when inspiration struck.
"They're from a secret admirer," he blurted out.
Jill's eyes glimmered with mirth. "A secret admirer?" she said, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "How mysterious - and romantic."
"Yes," he agreed, relieved that she seemed to be buying his last-minute excuse. "It's very exciting."
"It is," she hummed. Jill reached out and cupped one of the snow daisies between her fingertips before looking up at him. "Would you like to come in?" she asked. "I could use some help moving the flowers to the table."
Her initial flower orders weren't particularly heavy, but were a little unwieldy. However, this bouquet was light as a feather and small enough to be held in just one hand. It wasn't weighty, nor was it an awkward shape that might make it difficult to carry to the table. His brow furrowed. "Are you sure?" he asked. Now that he knew that she was safe, suddenly his worry about making her uncomfortable came roaring back. If she wasn't incapacitated, then she must not have put in her regular orders because he had frightened her off. He didn't want to scare her off any more than he already had.
"Positive," she replied, stepping back to beckon him into her apartment. "I need someone to hold my secret admirer's lovely flowers while I find a vase to put them in. Wouldn't do to mishandle their gift now, would it?"
"No," he said, hesitantly following her inside, "It wouldn't, I suppose."
Though it had only been a few short weeks since the last time Clive had been inside Jill's apartment, walking back into her home still felt...strange. Everything was still in the same place - her kitchen still to his left, a mug of something warm and steaming on the coffee table in front of the television. However, once more, he was left feeling like a stranger in her space. Once, this place had felt warm and inviting to him. It still felt that way - it was just him that was different. He felt a stranger in this place that had once been so comfortable to him. He knew that he had offended her with his presence, and knew he was not supposed to be welcome here. It was as if the space itself was trying to reject him, even as Jill had actively beckoned him in. Knowing that he was here under false pretenses only made the feeling worse.
Once more, Clive approached the table, as he had so many times before, but didn't dare set the flowers down upon it, not wanting to bend the petals. Jill rummaged around in the kitchen and returned with a small vase filled partway with water. Her fingers brushed over the backs of his hands as she took the flowers from him. Clive startled, but she didn't comment on it, only smiling up at him as she delicately unwrapped the bouquet and threaded the stems of the flower through the vase.
"They're beautiful," she sighed as she set the vase in the middle of the dining room table. "No one's ever bought me flowers before."
Despite his discomfort, the obvious contentment in her voice caused him to relax a bit. "I'm glad you like them," he said softly.
"I do like them," she said with a smile, and reached out to pluck one of the snow daisies from the vase and raise it to her face, inhaling the sweet scent deeply. She carefully returned it to its original position.
Then, she turned back to face him. "But as much as I like them," she said, and Clive prepared for the inevitable, for her to kick him out and tell him that she never wanted to see her again. He shut his eyes and held his breath, steeling himself for her imminent rejection.
"I'm even happier to see you ."
Clive's eyes peeked open to look at her. Jill had wandered closer to him in that short amount of time that they were closed, until she stood a few scant feet away from him. He stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to tack on a "but" to the end of her sentence, but she didn't. Her eyes were warm and sincere. "You are?" he finally managed to stammer out.
"Exceptionally so," she replied. "I've missed talking to you these past few weeks. It's been...lonely without you here. I used to look forward to Mondays because I knew that I'd get to see you again. They've been so empty since you left."
Clive swallowed thickly and looked away. Her admission touched him deeply. He wished he had her way with words, so he could express the same thing as eloquently as she had. "I missed you too," he said softly. "I was worried about you these past few weeks. I want you to know...if I did anything to ruin our friendship, then I'm sorry. I liked what we had, and I was sad to lose it."
Jill's head tilted. "What do you mean, 'ruin our friendship'?"
He took a deep breath and then exhaled, long and slow, to steady his nerves before speaking. "I know that you stopped ordering flowers from Cid's after...after the last time we spoke." He knew that speaking the words aloud would be the best way to apologize and ask for her forgiveness, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say it, how he had tried to kiss her and embarrassed her and himself in the process.
Jill blinked at him, confused as he tried to parse out his meaning. "I didn't stop ordering flowers because of anything that you did," she told him.
His head shot up, finally making eye contact again. "You didn't?"
"No," she said with a smile, though it was small and sad. "You remember how I told you that I was ordering flowers for someone who had gone into end-of-life care? He...he passed, not long after you and I last saw each other. We all knew it was coming. I was running behind the last time we spoke - it was because the office had gotten a call from his daughter, who let us know that he had been sleeping a lot more recently, and would likely pass soon. We were discussing what we could do for her when it finally happened."
"Oh," he whispered. Suddenly, all of his concerns about whether or not she liked him seemed very foolish and selfish. She and her friends had been coping with a loss, and he had been worrying and pining over a crush. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," she replied. "According to the nurses, he had no pain. He just slept more and more, and eventually just...slipped away, his daughter holding his hand. I'm told it was very peaceful. The office has been a little melancholic since, which is to be expected. Several members of the staff have taken bereavement leave, so it was mostly just me there for a bit, keeping the lights on until they were ready to come back. When his daughter came back, she was very clear: No more flowers. She liked having them around while he was ill, but she's received so many after his death that she doesn't think she can house any more. I just want to respect her wishes."
"I understand," he said sympathetically.
"Yeah," she said. "I'll be honest, though, I've been missing all of the flowers. This affected more than I thought it would, and I've been a little low lately. I'm not sure if it's just his passing, or the grief of everyone around me, or, honestly, that I've been missing you a bit, but I kept thinking that I could use some flowers to brighten up my life." Once more, her head turned to the flowers in the vase on the table. A smile stretched across her face again, and Clive could see the blush return to her cheeks. "Which is why it's so nice to receive them again - and my favorite ones, too. My secret admirer has good taste," she said coyly.
"He...does." Clive's first instinct was to deflect the compliment, but she didn't know that he was the supposed "secret" admirer, and he wasn't about to let it slip.
"Ah. He ," Jill hummed. "A man, then. Any other details you want to share with me?"
Clive bit his tongue, knowing he had blundered into that one. "No," he said shortly.
"Just between you and me, then," Jill said. "Who is he? Surely you know."
"I do."
"Then who is it?"
"It's a secret," he replied. "Florist-client privilege."
"That doesn't actually exist, does it?" she asked.
"It's real enough," Clive responded defensively. "Cid doesn't want to lose his business, so we have to respect his wishes."
"Very well," Jill said reluctantly. "Any other hints for me? Did he leave a message?"
His first instinct was to say "no", because he hadn't actually prepared any kind of greeting card for her, fully planning on simply dropping off the flowers once he knew she was safe, but he stopped before the words could flow out and considered. Clive had always struggled with speaking in social situations. Being around Jill eased many of his worries about what he should and shouldn't say, and conversation seemed to flow naturally between them, but he still felt he held so much back from her. However, he had always done better in writing. He still struggled with the same anxiety, but with the time to breath and think between each word, it felt less spontaneous, and therefore easier for him. This could be one of his only opportunities to say something real and honest to her. Besides, even if it went sideways and he did manage to accidentally offend her, all of the blame would fall on the supposed 'secret admirer's' shoulders.
"He did," he finally said. "It was a last minute order, so I haven't had time to write it yet, but I remember what it was supposed to say. Do you mind?"
"Not at all."
He pulled a greeting card from his pocket, as well as a pen. He braced them both against the table next to the flowers, and then paused. What to say to Jill Warrick? What did he want to tell her that he couldn't truly express aloud? He wanted to thank her for her friendship, to tell her how beautiful and kind and clever he thought she was, to tell her he had worried for her when he didn't hear from her in so long and that he was so glad she was all right, but any of those would have shattered the illusion of anonymity. But what else could he say?
He knew exactly what he could write - something that was true to his feelings without revealing himself. In fancy, looping cursive, he wrote the words upon the paper, then with great hesitancy and shaking fingers, he handed the message to her.
Jill took the card from him and looked over the message. "'Your smile brings me so much joy'," she whispered, and that same smile that he loved slowly spread across her face. Even in the low light, he could see her flush. His own cheeks reddened at the sight, and he couldn't resist giving her a small, shy smile back, even though the expression she was making wasn't truly for him. "That's so sweet," she finally said. "My secret admirer is apparently a romantic."
"Apparently," he replied, trying to sound cool and impartial, as her interest wasn't really for him.
"I like that in a man," she said, and she set the card aside on the tabletop. "I like his consideration even more," she continued on. "He may not know it, but he sent me something much more valuable than flowers."
His brows furrowed. "He did?"
"He did," Jill said with a laugh. "He sent you back to see me again. That's worth all of the snow daisies in the world."
He preened under her praise, even as he wanted to shy away from it. "I can't be worth all that much. Snow daisies are expensive ," he managed to mumble.
"You are to me," was all she said, and Clive didn't know how to respond to that. Thankfully, she quickly continued on, "Well, if he's not keen to reveal himself just yet, perhaps my secret admirer will reveal himself in other ways. I hope it's with more flowers. Then I'd be able to see you again."
She wanted to see him again. He could scarcely believe it. A 'secret admirer' was ordering flowers delivered to her door, and she was wanting to see Clive, the strange and awkward man who delivered them, despite the fact that there was supposedly someone much more appealing and romantic and confident pursuing her.
At that moment, Clive knew that the 'secret admirer' would indeed be ordering more flowers for her. He would order her flowers every day for the rest of her life as long as she still wanted to see him. "We'll have to see," he said, feeling warm and content from head to toe. "Maybe you'll get lucky and he'll send you more flowers."
"I certainly hope I get lucky, " she responded mischievously, and Clive snickered at the innuendo. Still, she hesitated before she spoke again. "Will I see you again?" she said hopefully.
He couldn't flat out confirm it without giving himself away, but neither did he want to leave her wondering if they'd ever meet again if she truly wanted to see him again, didn't want to leave her waiting nervously by the door for news of her mystery suitor.
So instead, knowing that it might give himself away, he smiled at her as he made for the door. "Don't worry, Jill," he said, feeling and sounding confident for what must have been one of the first times in his life. "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again very soon."