What She Wants. Sheila Roberts

been downhill after that.

      As a pharmaceutical rep he spent more time waiting in doctors’ offices than he did actually talking to them about the new medicines in his company’s catalog. All that waiting gave him way too much time to think, and when he’d 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 competitor’s product.

      Back at the office he made phone calls and then hung up, wondering what exactly he’d promised, and had to read his emails repeatedly before he understood what he’d 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 she’d glared at him from the bedroom window.

      The idea of spending another night on Jonathan’s 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.

      “What’s her favorite flower?” asked the man who answered the phone.

      Favorite flower? His mind was a blank. “She likes yellow.” She’d painted their whole living room yellow one week when he was gone.

      “Well, then, we’ll send her a sunshine bouquet—yellow and white daisies and yellow pom-poms and yellow roses in a yellow ceramic pitcher.”

      Adam didn’t care what they came in, as long as they got the job done. “Yeah, that sounds great. Give me the biggest one you’ve got.”

      “How would you like the card to read?”

      The card. He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t want to announce to the whole world that he was in trouble. “How about ‘I love you’?”

      “That says it all.”

      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.