Tell Me With Flowers

31. A party

MEGAN

I could understand. Completely. And I didn't blame him for anything, yet my chest yearned for him that night.

The familiar warmth in my bed was missing. Though he had promised to call and get back to me, he had stopped all the contact since that night.

It had been four days and yet there was no message from him. I had planned to go to his restaurant but everyday at the last moment, I decided against it. He said he wanted time and I thought I should give him just that.

I had been telling him to go do the interview all these times only for it to rebound back at me. It only made me wonder if I was being honest and interested in him just as he was. But I was. I mean, interested in him - more than I had hoped for. These four days had given me enough insight into that.

The letters didn't matter now. I knew how it felt to be chosen over something. Especially when someone had always chosen something over me all my life. When Miles asked me for time, I had understood.

I had wanted him to know how I felt about the guy who was writing to me with flowers. I was just trying to be honest with him. But I never meant for him to think that I was choosing him over Miles. That was never my intention.

Suddenly, I was on the other side of the river, choosing between the two. I knew how cruel the whole procedure always would be. Once I had got hold of why Miles was avoiding me after all that we had gone through, it was difficult for me to get over it.

I wanted to call and apologize. But what would I tell him? That I had chosen him and I didn't care about the letters anymore? It wasn't that easy.

Like him, I thought it would do best for the both of us, if we took a break. I had done all my chores with great concentration and determination just not to think of him or the complications that lay in front of me.

Amber had even sensed this the other day. "Is everything okay, Meg? You know you can talk to me, right?"

Though I had nodded my head at her, I hadn't spoken a word out loud. I didn't know if I wanted her support or her pity.

It was Friday when the call had finally come. I was sitting on my study table with a plain sheet in front of me as I thought of a design. No matter how hard I had banged my head on the same table, it had become difficult to concentrate on new designs. Even my fresh cup of green tea wasn't helping me.

But that call had startled me and had made my hands clammy. We had hung out a lot, held hands and had even shared a handful of kisses, but now, I felt my throat clog. Taking another sip of my tea, I received the call.

"Miles." I said. I could almost see myself hopeful and a part of me wondered if I should be regretting it. "Hey."

"Hi, Megan." His voice was neutral and I wondered if his anger had decreased. I terribly missed him calling me darling as he usually did. Was that normal?

"How are you?" I sounded as desperate as I felt.

"Good, good." He said and I could imagine him nodding his head at me. "What are you doing tonight?" He didn't give me time to respond. "Anyway, make yourself free. You are attending a ball with me."

"Um, what?" I asked, not able to understand.

"It's for a charity I'm associated with." He said, sparing me a few details. "Wear something formal. Media and reporters will be there."

"Right." I said, hoping that I didn't sound mad at it.

It all boiled down to the media. Now did he understand why I wanted to do that goddamned interview and get it done with? The guilt vaporized into thin air, leaving only the flames of anger with me.