“It’s just flowers.” I understood why he was upset, but he was making it into something bigger than it was. “They’re harmless.” “Some fucker is sending you flowers, and you want to tell me it’s harmless?” He picked up the card again. “Thought of you at midnight. Hope you’re doing well. Love, Heath.” Sarcasm weighed heavy on the recitation. “It doesn’t take a genius to know what he was doing while he was thinking of you at midnight.”
