Free Liar's Guide to True Love by Wendy Chen

free-spirited Sunflower Bride will appreciate. “Elton, you know I agree with you. I think the Bride even agrees with you. But carnations are significant to this couple because he gave her one on their first date.”
    Elton begins to go on about what sort of man gives “cheap, floral filler” to a woman on the first date, “way to make an impression” yada yada yada. I am relieved when I hear the call waiting beep, and am hopeful that it is Cupcake Café calling back to say they can handle the change in next week’s order from a five-tier cake to four hundred large cupcakes. “Elton, love, I’ve got to go. It’s the cake people on the other line.”
    “Hello, this is Cassandra Hanley.”
    “Hi Cassandra, this is Nick. Kate’s friend? We met the other night at the bar?” Oh my God, he sounds so cute even on the phone. I already love the lilt in his voice, the way he makes a statement like a question, as if he is a little unsure of himself.
    “Yes, of course, Nick, how are you?” I am careful to turn off my business voice, and in one motion I am on the handset without the Bluetooth. It just isn’t a real phone call if your hand isn’t by your ear. “Sorry I had to rush out like that the other night—work, you know?” Jeez, there I go, sounding like a total dud, too serious to be out for drinks with friends.
    “Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem. I was a last-minute addition to your party anyway, right?” Does he think I didn’t want him there, and that’s why I left? Suzanne was the man-hater that night, not me! “Well, so I was wondering, if you’re not too busy with work, maybe we could go out sometime? Maybe have dinner and see a movie on Friday night?”
    “I’d love that! The weekends are a little busy for me these days—how about Wednesday or Thursday?” We settle on Wednesday, and he doesn’t linger on the phone. It sounded like he was busy at work and took his few minutes of downtime to call moi, and I am positively ecstatic. I then realize that I hope that he doesn’t think I’m relegating him to weekday date status. Between a Wednesday date and bailing on drinks, I am determined to show him the real Cassandra when I do see him—to show him that I am a fun-loving, non-man-hating, charming female who does not normally flash her polka-dot underwear to strangers in bars. No pressure.
    By now it is nearly one o’clock, and I decide to duck out for lunch before I have to get into high gear to get ready for rehearsal. As I’m leaving, I see a flower delivery person coming in with a bouquet of peach roses for some lucky person in my building. I go around the corner to treat myself to pizza by the slice. Nowhere but New York has pizza as deliciously dripping with hot, melted cheese.
    I decide to head back to my apartment, and Ed, the doorman, stops me on my way through the lobby. “Delivery for you, Ms. Cassandra,” he says in that friendly Southern drawl. The peach roses. Maybe it is a thank-you bouquet from one of my weddings. That happens occasionally where the bride gets such a kick out of learning so much about flowers. So I am unprepared for the card:
    Gorgeous, These are just like the ones I got you on our first date, remember? See you soon. K
     
    The breakdown:
    The card is written in his handwriting . He did not go online or have his admin call the flower shop. He went into the store and wrote this card.
So does that mean he went in especially to buy these exact peach roses? Or did he see them in the window and just decide to pop in?
Gorgeous—again, that term that he no longer has rights to, but thinks he does. Do I find it irritating? Or…pleasing?
The reference to the first date—he is getting nostalgic. About our relationship, not just the flings we’ve had over the years. This is new. Definitely new.
See you soon. Confident. Like he is going to initiate further contact. And expects me to say yes.
     
    I call Mia at work, but get her damn voicemail. So I try her cell—she always