trouble grasping the concept of homeworkâthat no matter how smart you were, or thought you were, you still needed to do it. Jonathan suspected this time was going to be different, though. Once a guy got kicked out of his house, there was no quick route back.
* * *
Adam found it hard to concentrate at work. No wonder, with the way his life was going.
Heâd called Chelsea when he reached the office, tried to make up for his memory lapse by inviting her to dinner and had been told in no uncertain terms what he could do with his offer. It had all been downhill after that.
As a pharmaceutical rep he spent more time waiting in doctorsâ offices than he did actually talking to them about the new medicines in his companyâs catalog. All that waiting gave him way too much time to think, and when heâd finally get a chance to see a doc, he invariably looked like he needed to be taking one of those new antidepressants he was peddling. One doctor even offered to write him a prescription for a competitorâs product.
Back at the office he made phone calls and then hung up, wondering what exactly heâd promised, and had to read his emails repeatedly before he understood what heâd read. All he could think about was how mad Chelsea had been. All he could see was the hurt and anger on her face when sheâd glared at him from the bedroom window.
The idea of spending another night on Jonathanâs couch was anything but appealing. He had to do something. He called Lupine Floral and ordered a huge bouquet to be delivered that day, ASAP.
âWhatâs her favorite flower?â asked the man who answered the phone.
Favorite flower? His mind was a blank. âShe likes yellow.â Sheâd painted their whole living room yellow one week when he was gone.
âWell, then, weâll send her a sunshine bouquetâyellow and white daisies and yellow pom-poms and yellow roses in a yellow ceramic pitcher.â
Adam didnât care what they came in, as long as they got the job done. âYeah, that sounds great. Give me the biggest one youâve got.â
âHow would you like the card to read?â
The card. He hadnât thought of that. He didnât want to announce to the whole world that he was in trouble. âHow about âI love youâ?â
âThat says it all.â
He hoped so. He gave the man his credit card information and ended the call. That should do it. Maybe now he could talk about medications without wanting to take a bunch.
He was smiling when he drove down his street after work. Chelsea would have gotten her sunshine bouquet by now and it would have done the trick.
She loved flowers. She worked part-time at Mountain Nursery and sheâd planted all kinds of flowers around their house that made it look really niceâroses and a bunch of other things, names sheâd rattled off that left him glassy-eyed.
He wasnât into flowers. But he was into his wife and he felt confident his peace offering would prove it.
He lost his smile when he pulled up in front of his place and saw a kitchen trash bag with a yellow flower head sticking out the top. Sheâd tossed the arrangement? Seriously? And that wasnât the only bag on the porch. Several huge garbage bags sat huddled together, and beside them was his baseball bat, his glove and his fishing gear.
Okay, this was not funny. He got out of the car, marched up to the porch and checked inside one of the trash bags. Clothes. Sheâd just wadded up his clothes and stuffed them in garbage bags. He was going to have to pay a fortune to get his pants pressed.
He banged on the door. âChels!â
Of course she didnât answer.
He banged again.
Once more the bedroom window flew open. There she was again, that pretty face, that long, brown hair. That frown. Sadness overrode his anger. âCome on, baby. What do I have to do?â
âChange.â
âIâm
1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas