"Cupid really messed up this time. I think he sleeps on the job."

She laughs, her big toothy smile almost brightens my mood.

"But it's all good," I rea.s.sure her...and myself. "Like I said, I'll never see him again." And sadness washes over me...a sadness I hadn't expected.

My students cheer me up-they always do. No matter what's bugging me, their energy is almost contagious-everything is new, something to be discovered and studied.

I feel pretty good, and I've almost all but forgotten about Weston, when Sylvia, our receptionist, walks into my cla.s.sroom.

I stand, suddenly curious and concerned. When I see Sylvia in my cla.s.sroom, it usually means something's wrong-issues with one of my kids, disciplinary problems, absence, illness, injury, or worse than all that...lice!

But today, Sylvia has a huge smile on her face-it must be something good.

"Someone's got a secret admirer," she says.

"What?"

"Flowers were delivered for you at the front desk. They're gorgeous."

I'm shocked. Gabe and I did have a great date night, but it wasn't quite worthy of celebratory flowers. Then again, Gabe has sent me flowers before-he's sweet that way. Although it has been a while. I'm quite excited to see them.

"I was going to bring them over, but Michael doesn't want them in the cla.s.sroom...something about kids' allergies."

"That's fine. I'll fetch them on my way out."

Michael is our princ.i.p.al, and he's a little bit of a stickler for rules. Gwen always jokes about him-she says he has a thing for me. I tell her he's married, and she says, "What does that have to do with anything?" Who knows? Perhaps she's right. Maybe he doesn't like the idea of my husband sending me flowers.

When I finally make it to the front office at the end of the day, my mind is blown away. Sylvia wasn't exaggerating-the flowers are gorgeous. Gabe has outdone himself-a dozen of the most beautiful roses I have ever laid eyes on-lavender. I didn't even know lavender roses existed. But as wonderful as the roses are, the gorgeous vase is what my eyes are drawn too-hand blown gla.s.s, a rainbow of colors. I just know I will cherish it for years to come.

"Does Gabe have a brother by chance?" Sylvia jokes. It's a well-known fact that all the ladies at work think my husband is delicious. And Sylvia is probably the one with the biggest crush.

I laugh as I rip the tiny envelope open.

And as my gaze settles on the small card, my stomach drops.

Chapter Five.

Love...at...first...sight.

Dear Gabe and Mirella,

We had a wonderful time on Sat.u.r.day night. We would love to hear from you again.

Weston & Bridget

MY EYES GLANCE AT THE TELEPHONE NUMBER on the bottom of the card, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. I was not expecting this at all-it's all so absurd.

"What's wrong Mirella? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"It's just...it's..." I'm at a loss for words.

"Oooh," Sylvia perks up. "Are the flowers from someone else? Do you have a secret admirer?" she asks, curious. Yes, I'm sure she'd love that. Then, she could tell Gabe all about my torrid secret affair and s.n.a.t.c.h him right out from under me.

With an uneasy laugh, I explain, "It's just a wonderful couple Gabe and I met on Sat.u.r.day night." I really don't need her starting some unfounded rumors.

She reads the card and her smile fades. "You must have really made quite the impression."

Yes...it appears so.

I've set the flowers carefully on the floor in front of the pa.s.senger seat, and I try not to drive too fast or make sudden turns. The girls are quiet in the back and seem a little tired-Mondays are always hard on them.

The card tucked in my pocket consumes me. Who wrote it? The handwriting could be female or male, but the words almost sound like Bridget...But how would she know where to reach me? Well, of course, I did tell Weston where I worked.

I don't know what to think.

I don't need this. I don't need this man in my life.

I realize I'm at a crossroads-this is one of those "big moments." There's a fork in the road. If I go one way, my life stays as it is, wonderful and simple. If I choose the other path, my life could possibly get really complicated.

I just know it.

But I really want to go down that other road...even though I shouldn't.

I'm sitting at a red light, and I have the sudden urge to rip up the card and throw it out the window. That's what I should do. It would be so easy-it's sitting in my jacket pocket.

But I don't.

"I told you," Gabe says, all smugness. "The guy wants to f.u.c.k you."

"You don't know that."

The girls are sleeping. We're sitting on our bed. I'm painting my toenails a bright red-I've finally decided to pay a little more attention to my feet. "Maybe it was Bridget's idea. She did seem to have a pretty good time. You guys were chatting away like the best of friends," I point out, realizing that I'm making a lot of sense. "Weston and I barely spoke, or Bridget and I, for that matter. I would hardly call that 'a wonderful time.' It was all about you and Bridget."

As I say the words, I realize I should probably have thrown the card out the car window. I need a flirty, gorgeous supermodel lawyer after my husband like I need a hole in my head.

f.u.c.k.

How could I have been so stupid-this isn't about Weston and I-this is about Gabe and Bridget.

She wrote the card.

Panic washes over me. Like I've stumbled on a merry-go-round and am spinning out of control. I can't jump off and can't stop the d.a.m.n ride. Suddenly, I don't want to ever see Weston or Bridget again.

"I really don't think we should call them," I say, putting on my best all-business face. "I don't think it's a very good idea."

Gabe seems disappointed. "You don't think having fun with a cool couple is a good idea?"

Right. I know where he's going with this-the woman looks like a Maxim cover. Gabe always talks me into things. But not this time.

"Not this couple. Not with the way she was looking at you all night." If he thinks I hadn't noticed, he's sadly mistaken.

He smiles and closes the distance between us. "C'mon...You liked the looks of him too," he points out as he wraps his arms around my waist. "It could be fun," he adds, his expression playful.

"You know exactly what fun like that leads to."

"I'll behave," he promises.

"Oh...it's not you I don't trust...it's her."

"I promise I'll be good...if you promise to be good too."

And we both laugh a little.

Maybe I'm being a little neurotic. I'm always blowing things out of proportion. I'm sure they're not interested in playing naked Twister together. All we're talking about is probably a nice dinner out. And Gabe's right-we are completely anti-social-we need more friends.

d.a.m.n, part of me wants this, despite every bone in my body telling me not to.

"I heard about the flowers," Gwen tells me the first chance she gets. "Sylvia told me all about them."

Yep...Sylvia has a big mouth. She's probably told the whole staff.

"They were from that couple you met on Sat.u.r.day night, right? That gorgeous l.u.s.t at first sight guy," she whispers.

I can't hide anything from Gwen.

"Yes," I mouth, looking nervously over my shoulder. I'm kind of embarra.s.sed about this silly crush. It is utterly ridiculous-I'm acting like a foolish teenager.

"And they left their number?" she asks, her eyes bright. "Did you call them?"

That Sylvia sure didn't skimp on the details.

"No," I say with conviction, "of course not."

"And I hear they were purple roses. How fun."

"Lavender actually. I didn't even know those existed."

"That's interesting." Her brows arch together, in deep thought. "I wonder what that means."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, red roses mean romantic love," she explains, her big brown eyes staring out into the empty school hall. "And yellow roses mean friendship. But I have no clue what lavender roses mean."

"I don't either." I'd never thought about a hidden meaning in the flowers. But now I'm curious.

"We are so Googling this," she shrills.

"Uh...I was kind of hoping to eat my lunch."

She drags me by the arm. Our heels click loudly against the tiled floor. "This is way more important than sustenance, sweetie."

I stand there, chomping on my wrap, admitting to myself the truth-we are shameless-acting like giddy junior high girls. Gwen is definitely guiltier than I am. She's even bouncing up and down a little on her chair, her long tresses dancing. She types in "lavender roses meaning," and in no time, she finds what she's looking for.

"Oh...my...G.o.d," she whispers, in slow motion. She turns to me, slack-jawed "Love...at...first...sight." Her words are carefully measured. "That's what it means."

My breath catches. My heart pounds. I feel my face flush. "It...d-does not," I struggle to say as my eyes devour the screen.

"I wonder if they have any clue what they just sent you," Gwen says, eyes still fixed on the screen. "Most people don't realize that colors have special significance when it comes to roses."

"You're right. Probably doesn't mean anything. It's most likely just a coincidence. I'm sure they just like lavender," I add, not quite convincing myself. "I told you he was wearing a purple shirt and tie." This makes it too real. This needs to be a coincidence. A silly one-sided crush is one thing, but a strong mutual attraction is another altogether. This spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

Gwen turns to me, wide-eyed. "Are you going to call them?"

I can't. I just can't.

"G.o.d, I want to," I confess. "But what about the whole 'I shouldn't mess up what I've got going with Gabe' thing?" I ask, almost pleading her to talk some sense into me and convince me to do the right thing. "I shouldn't, right?"

She bites her lip, pondering my question for a beat. "Yep, you should probably just ignore the flowers," she finally says. "But jeez, that's going to be practically impossible. I know you..."

"You're right."

She twirls a lock of hair and perks up. "But then again...we're probably just talking about dinner here. They're married...you're married. But...you could be playing with fire...you just never really know with these things."

I start to wonder if Gwen is living vicariously through me. She wants to see where this goes. It's her own little live-action soap opera. But unfortunately, soap operas always have drama, and the last thing I need in my life is drama.

"So you think I should throw out the card?" I ask, still convinced that if anyone can steer me in the right direction, it's probably her. She truly wants the best for me-she's my best friend.

"Yep, I think so," she says, turning to the screen. "That's what you should do, sweetie." But then, she turns to face me again. "But one thing I do know is," she says, her voice soft. "You'll always wonder if you don't call."