“Hmm. You’re right. This might take more than just flowers.” I turn to see the various add-ons we offer when my gaze lands on a few colorful balloons and stuffed animals that I quickly dismiss. “I’m not sure you should focus on forgiveness, Ben. Technically, you didn’t do anything wrong.”Well, except maybe the decision to forego using a condom. I can’t help but grimace. “Instead, use this opportunity to demonstrate how much she means to you.”
The line grows quiet again. “What do you mean?”
“Like, up your game. You said you love her. Show her. Use this occasion to make this a regular thing. Start by delivering a beautiful assortment of flowers to work, then bring a pretty bouquet of purple hyacinths home a while later. Make her dinner and have them waiting on the table. The following week, greet her with some white poppies and lilacs as you take her to a new restaurant. Run her a bath with rose petals and relaxing essential oils. Let her find chocolates and a love letter. Push yourself farther than you have before in the romance department. Show her your actions are more than asking for forgiveness. It’s because you love her.”
“You know, you’re right. I like that.”
“And if she chooses to stay focused on what you did while the two of you were apart rather than what you’re doing to bring the two of you together, you can walk away knowing you did all you could.” The tinkling metal chime of the bells above the front door steals my attention away from the phone, and as I look up, my heart practically stops beating.
“You’re fantastic, Tuesday. Tuesday. Such a pretty name.”
“Ben.”
“Yes?”
“Keep focused on your girl. I’m going to work on a few ideas and call you back to confirm. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes. Perfect. Thank you. I’m feeling more optimistic already.”
“Good. I’m so glad I could help.” I disconnect the call, with my eyes still fixated on the only other person in the shop. Despite all of the plants in the showroom doing their part in photosynthesis, I may need to be revived. He’s stealing all of the oxygen from the room. This glorious man stands at six foot two with dark brown eyes and wavy brown hair with a single dimple smirking at me. It’s enough to make any girl swoon.
“Tues,” the deep tone of his familiar voice coats my skin in delectable warmth as it floats in my direction. I feel like a peace lily thriving under a heat lamp. I’m practically melting under his gaze until the front doorbell dings again, and a tall, leggy blonde strolls in, draping her arm through his.
Chapter 2
Tuesday
“Hi, Alex. Ainsley,” I add, my tone turning curt with her arrival into my peaceful space. “What brings you to Cygnature Blooms?”
“I wanted to drop this key by for you.”
My brows jump in question as he places the shiny metal key into my palm. I turn it about in my hand, enjoying the warmth, unsure if he’s been holding it awhile or if it’s from the current transferred from his body to mine. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Your brother is going to be away. He has a few different med school interviews over the next week and said you had exams coming and might want to use his place to study.”
While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not sure I understand. “Yeah. I might take him up on it. But I have a key.”
Alex looks surprised by this admission. “Did you ever come by when I was living there?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t let myself in uninvited. I only used it when you two were away. Just to have a girls’ weekend or some time away from the folks.” Still living with my parents at twenty wasn’t my preference. Yet it’s saving me money, and I’m not home much anyway.
Up until a few months ago, Alex and my brother, Ricky, had been roommates. Once Alex joined the Hanover fire department, he found his own place. He said he was being proactive, preparing for Ricky’s departure once he went to medical school. Yet I secretly wonder if he had difficulty sleeping after his twenty-four-hour shifts with Ricky’s girlfriend spending more time at their place.
“Why don’t you keep this? I have one. Who knows. You might need it for something one day,” I say.
“Man.” Ainsley huffs. “And here I got excited thinking you brought me here to get me something pretty.”
My eyes flick to Alex, who looks as if he’s trying hard to prevent an eye roll. I’d wonder what he sees in her, but anyone with eyes can answer that question. She’s tall and thin with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s one of the popular girls from the rescue squad I volunteer with. Ainsley is so self-absorbed that it’d take more than her looks ifIwas a man, but I’m starting to think they can easily look past that if the packaging is appealing.
Yet, I didn’t think Alex was like the other men my brother’s age. And certainly not like the boys I know. Sure, he dates plenty of girls, but he seems more mature. But I admit I probably see him through rose-colored glasses.
My brother met Alex while volunteering with the rescue squad five years ago. While Ricky was focused on medical school, Alex had always dreamt of joining the fire department. In the beginning, he was just my brother’s hot new friend. But the more time he spent with our family, the harder I fell. He’s nearly five years older than I am. I’m well aware that’s a lifetime when one of you is an adult, drinking and living on your own, while even though I’m twenty, I still look too young to attempt using a fake I.D. and live with my parents.
I’ve felt like I’ve lived under lock and key my whole life. I blame the fact that I’m the youngest on why my parents seem to be the helicopter variety—always hovering overhead, monitoring every facet of my life. The same doesn’t seem to be true for my brother. Yet, Thomas Richard Palmer was born a near clone of my parents. He played with their doctors’ instruments at home as a child, professing to follow in their footsteps. I, on the other hand, preferred to play in the dirt.
My mom and dad, an internist and a surgeon, respectively, remain driven to keep medicine at the forefront of my career plans. A family of medical providers. I’m unsure if my unimpressive grades, the absence of drive toward competing for medical school acceptance, or my lack of enthusiasm over their interesting cases have made them wary of my ability to continue the family career tree. But so far, they haven’t backed down.
The door chimes again, bringing my focus to the front of the shop. My wild and wonderful friend, Grace, strolls in carrying a bag of take-out from our favorite bistro, and I can almost feel my stomach start to grumble. She walks behind the counter as if she owns the place, and I don’t miss the scornful sneer in Ainsley’s direction.
