That's How You Know

Chapter One: Yellow Flowers

Well, does he leave a little note to tell you you are on his mind?

Send you yellow flowers when the sky is gray – heyeyey…

He'll find a new way to show you, a little bit every day –

That's how you know, that's how you know

He's your love

Robert was hunched over his desk, listening – though not at all wholeheartedly – to a divorcing couple argue. He pretended to be scribbling notes, but was in fact doodling – little flowers, to be precise.

A quick glance out the window revealed gloomy skies. He smiled slightly at the weather's aptitude to match his mood.

I don't want to be here, he thought, a million times.

He turned back to the couple. He had used to enjoy his work. Ever since his wife had left, there was a feeling of victory that thrilled through him every time he won a case. For a while, it had consoled him – every time he won, it was like winning a battle of some sort between him and his (ex) wife. He told himself that she had just left him (as opposed to divorcing him) because she was too scared to face him in court. But he didn't really believe it. And as for work? His heart just wasn't in it anymore. Ever since meeting Giselle, the idea of helping to split people up seemed wrong.

"Why are you two divorcing, exactly?" he asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

His client looked at him mournfully.

"She says I don't communicate."

Robert's face brightened.

"These cases are the easiest to fix—"

"Fix? I came here so I could get a divorce," the woman snorted. "We've already tried all the counseling."

Robert frowned. "It takes two people to get a divorce."

"That's why we're here, Mr. Philip," the other lawyer snapped. "Now can we please get on with the asset division?"

"Wait," Robert's client said. His eyes were frantic. "You're right."

Robert waved his hand in a go-on gesture.

"I don't want to get a divorce."

"Sure seems like it to me,' his soon-to-be-ex wife retorted. "You never once told me you loved me."

"I never knew what to say," the man said softly. "But I do."

"You do?"

Her lawyer rolled his eyes. "Saying that isn't going to fix everything—"

"I'm sorry, everyone," the woman said. "But I guess we're staying together, after all."

"Oh, please. This doesn't just happen…"

The couple stood to leave. "Apparently, it does."

"Come back when he overcooks the pasta," the lawyer grumbled.

As they left, Robert smiled with satisfaction.

When they were out of sight, the other lawyer's professionalism went with them.

"You can't do that!" he cried indignantly, rising. "You just ruined my case. If you don't want people to get divorced, get a new job. At least, instead of ruining other people's."

He stormed out and Sam appeared in the doorway.

"Anything I can do?"

"You're the greatest secretary in the world, Sam," Robert sighed, closing his flower-filled notebook.

"I know," she teased. "So what do you want?"

He feigned innocence.

"Just to have a card delivered to Andalasia Fashions a.s.a.p."

"Oh, all right," Sam said, relenting.

Reaching for a sheet of card stock, he fingered his company's emblem before clicking his pen and jotting down a few words.

He folded the paper neatly and stuffed it into an envelope, then handed it to Sam.

"You're a saint," he told her.

"Uh-huh."

Robert hastily pulled on his coat. He had to hurry if he was going to get to Giselle's store at the same time as the note.

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"Delivery for Miss Giselle… just Miss Giselle," the deliveryman said finally, seeing as there was no last name on the envelope.

"A delivery? For me?"

Giselle scrambled down the ladder she had been standing on, knocking various bolts of fabric off the shelves she was organizing.

"Thank you so very much," she beamed, taking the note. "Please do come back!"

The man made a face as if he wasn't planning on it.

" 'Giselle,' " she read aloud. " 'Meet me in front of your building when you get this. Robert.' "

A ding warned Giselle of a customer waiting outside.

"Oh my," she said excitedly. "That's him!"

A squirrel who was cutting fabric (with his teeth, of course) nearby nodded his agreement. He and the other animals ran after Giselle towards the front door.

"Thank God," Robert said as she opened it.

"You're all wet," Giselle observed sadly. She looked down and gasped.

In one hand, Robert held an umbrella, and in the other, a bouquet of bright yellow daisies that popped in contrast to the gray sky.

"Sorry," he said, stepping over the animals at Giselle's feet so he could get in out of the rain. He set the flowers on a table. "It's not very original, I know. But I remembered your song, and I—"

Giselle threw her arms around Robert's neck.

"I love them," she said, pulling away so she could bury her nose in the sweet-smelling petals.

"Oh. Ah…"

Looking away, Robert realized that hugging Giselle had made the cottony white dress she had worn that day very wet – and very see-through.

"Here," he mumbled gruffly, handing her his coat. "I don't want you to get cold."

Or stolen by some pervert, he added silently.

"Thank you. I love you," Giselle chirped, as easily as if she had just noted that his hair was black.

Robert blinked, shook his head quickly, and followed her out into the rain with the umbrella. The daisies bounced brightly in her hands as they walked. They got into a taxi together and Giselle flashed him a grateful smile when he opened her door for her.

So this was what it was like to be in love. Now he knew.