They were not there in the morning, when she kissed Vell a good day. It wasn’t there before the meeting, when her department was scrutinized for the Hall Pass add they had decided to run during the Rose Bowl. But, there they stood, tall, elegant, green and other colors on top of her desk when she had returned from her secret cigarette break. If Vell knew she had been smoking, he’d rescind her second credit card, and that was a backup plan she needed in concrete.
Layla had seen the tips of the petals far away, as she exited the conference room, but paid no mind. No recognition, no notoriety, keep it quiet, she thought. After a few congratulations and pats on the back for not losing her cool, and telling Humphery it was not her department’s fault, rather the idiots over in time management, that secret society Humphery believed he was so brilliant for creating, Layla streamlined for her desk.
“Damn you,” she cursed Vell later that evening.
“What?” Vell acted delinquently.
“They were beautiful,” she admitted.
“Half as you,” Vell confided.
“Why?”
“What did the card say?” Vell asked, sipping tea.
“Just because,” she smiled. It was that smile, the one Vell strided for every day for the time they loved one another. Every day for the time he loved her, which that love had begun six years ago.
“Just because,” he reassured her. “And from now until the end, never mind all holidays and anniversaries,” of which there were more than a stars count of, “It is always just because. Just because you are the most wonderful person, the most precious being, and the most glorified leech I have ever had the pleasure of giving flowers to.”
“GLORIFIED LEECH?” she exclaimed.
“Those flowers aren’t free, you know.”
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