It was Valentine's day and Ross hadn't bought any flowers for anyone yet. He should at least get some for his friends, even if there was no-one special — well his friends were special but he knew what he meant. If he was in a relationship, right now, he'd be planning a special day. When was that ever going to come right? He'd been married three times…
He slipped out of his apartment, trying to avoid everyone and headed down to the nearest florist. He hoped there'd be something nice left. Thankfully, there were still roses. There were lots of roses in fact, far more than he'd expected to see. This florist must have overstocked — or perhaps New Yorkers had given up on being romantic. A man, not quite so tall as Ross but certainly not short, was ahead of Ross at the counter.
'No, no thankyou, I don't want to see any of the roses,' said the English accented voice.
'I have some without thorns,' the shop assistant said, almost pleading. This appeared to have been a long negotiation between a seller desperate to get rid of roses and a buyer who wanted something else.
'She hates roses, the smell makes her sick,' the man said.
'I have unscented ones,' the shop assistant said.
'Those tulips over there,' the man pointed. 'That's what I want.'
'Oh, those are — well they're pretty expensive. It's a new variety.' Ross looked with interest. They were not the way he had expected tulips would look. These had petals that were in different shades of pink, some almost red, almost with crinkly petals. They looked a long way from windmills and clogs.
'Perfect. I wanted something special,' said the man. As the shop assistant arranged the bouquet, Ross said,
'So your girlfriend doesn't like roses?'
'My wife,' corrected the man, 'No she doesn't. Anyway, roses are a bit common — no offence,' he added.
'None taken,' Ross said. The man opened his wallet and a picture fell out, fluttering to the floor. Ross picked it up, glancing at it as he did so. He tried his best not to show how shocked he was. It was his Emily — or Emily that was no longer his. Wife number two. So this was her husband… He realised he'd been holding the picture too long and handed it back hurriedly. The man gave him a stare before replacing the picture in his wallet.
'Thank you.' Ross looked at the man more closely. This was the man she'd married.
'You live round here,' Ross said, seeing that the man had noticed that he was staring.
'No, just visiting,' he said, 'Going home tomorrow in fact.'
'Oh good,' Ross said, without thinking. The man said coldly,
'No wonder my wife hates New Yorkers if you're a sample of the ones she's met.'
'I didn't mean…' but the man had walked out with his special bouquet.
'Sir?' the florist asked.
'Oh,' Ross said. 'Roses. Lots of them.' And taking his flowers, he realised that he had meant what he'd said, after all.