“Jack doesn’t strike me as the ghosting type.”
“Well, what would you call this then?”
Before Emily could answer, the doorbell rang, making us both jump.
“Expecting someone?” she asked, releasing me from our hug.
I shook my head, wiping hastily at my eyes. “No.”
“Maybe it’s Girl Scouts. I could murder some Thin Mints right now.”
“It’s not cookie season.”
The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.
“Well, someone’s eager,” Emily muttered. “Want me to get it?”
“No, I’ll go.” I took a deep breath, smoothing my hair and hoping my face didn’t scream ‘emotional breakdown in progress.’ “If it’s those religious people again, I’m telling them Satan is my homeboy and slamming the door.”
I padded to the front door, pulling it open with more force than necessary. Instead of Girl Scouts or religious pamphlet distributors, I found a delivery driver holding what had to be the largest flower arrangement I’d ever seen. Roses, lilies, and what looked like a dozen other types of flowers I couldn’t name exploded from an elegant vase, their combined scent hitting me like a perfumed tidal wave.
“Mia Harris?” the driver asked, consulting his clipboard.
“That’s me,” I answered, my voice faint.
“Sign here, please.” He held out the clipboard, which I signed mechanically, still staring at the massive bouquet. “Where would you like them?”
“Um, I can take them.” I reached for the vase, only to stagger slightly under its unexpected weight.
“Careful there. Let me set them down for you.”
The driver brushed past me, placing the flowers on the entryway table. He tipped his hat with a smile before disappearing back down the walkway, leaving me staring at the riot of colors and petals.
“Holy shit!” Emily’s voice came from behind me. “Did you rob a florist?”
I approached the bouquet cautiously, as if it might explode. Nestled among the blooms was a small envelope. With trembling fingers, I plucked it out and tore it open. Inside was a familiar yellow Post-it note, bearing a single line of text in Jack’s precise handwriting:
Some distances are worth crossing.
A small, strangled sound escaped my throat. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but it was something. Proof of life, at the very least. Proof that wherever he was, whatever he was doing, he was thinking of me.
“Well?” Emily demanded, practically vibrating with curiosity. “What does it say?”
I clutched the note to my chest, suddenly reluctant to share it. “It’s from Jack.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I figured that out from the flowers. What did he write?”
Instead of answering, I handed her the note, watching as her eyes scanned the single line.
“Some distances are worth crossing,” she read aloud, then looked up at me. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, reaching out to touch a velvety rose petal. “But I think... I think it means he’s coming back.”
Emily studied my face for a moment, then broke into a wide smile. “See? What did I tell you? Not the ghosting type.”
For the first time in five days, seventeen hours, and approximately fifty-two minutes, I felt the knot in my chest begin to loosen. The hollowness was still there, but alongside it now was something warm and bright. Something that felt dangerously like hope.
JACK
