I was coming up short, so I quizzed the woman at the florist's. In her forceful Carmen Miranda accent, the flower lady cut right to the chase. For a second, my head was caught in a powerful trade wind. I didn't think so. All sorts of ramifications flashed through my brain.
Love is a complicated thing.
That might affect how I answer. If she meant did I love him like a parent, then no. Then again, maybe this is something they teach in florist school. In a weird way, though, I welcomed her intrusion. It was oddly refreshing, and provided the perfect opportunity for a confession.