The responsible part of me is shouting,This is unsustainable!The other part—the one I don’t speak to often—is whispering,Then help her find a way.
I glance around at the signs and pink flyers fluttering in the winter breeze. I look back at Oopsie Daisies. Ruby is inside, laughing with someone. Teaching. Smiling. Trying to save the store… from me.
I stand there for a long moment, heart and logic at war, wondering when exactly Ruby became the one thing I can’t add up neatly on a spreadsheet. I turn on my heel and walk away.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ruby
I thoughtValentine’s Day would feel different this year. But it doesn’t.
It’s been a busy day with Mae lending a hand. By the time the sun slips behind the mountains, my fingers are stained green, the pockets of my apron filled with rose petals.
Not a single Griffin sighting. Not at the shop or on Main Street. Not even a text. Just…silence.
The flower-arranging workshops were a hit, from kids to seniors. But I still know it’s too little to shift the bottom line, to get us into the black. And let’s face it, numbers aren’t my thing. They’re Griffin’s.
I swallow hard, realizing I need to cancel Tessa’s wedding order. When Nick told me about the closure,I quickly blurted that I’d work things out, that we’d pull through. Now I know I can’t. At least they’ll still have enough time to get another florist.
The worst part is I’ll have to start looking for a new job.
Another thought hits hard. Hard enough that I have to sit and take a breath.
He’s gone.
Griffin came, did what he said he would, and left. No promises broken, no rules bent. But somewhere along the way, he made me feel things I haven’t felt in years.
A stray tear slips out the side of my eye as I clean up the last stray leaf and pack my tools.
I need to focus on what’s coming, not my love life, pathetic as it is.
I catch a glimpse of my sad reflection in the window and force a smile, then tell myself what I always tell myself:Choose joy, Ruby. Even when it doesn’t choose you back.
So I go home, shower off a day’s worth of eucalyptus and baby’s breath, and slip into my red, twirly dress. I swipe on my favorite lipstick, and take a few moments to check myself in the mirror, marveling at how I once thought forty was ancient. Now, at forty-eight, I embrace the lines around my eyes and the brown spots emerging on my hands. I’ve learned to appreciate the aging process. It’s a blessing not everyone receives.
I drive to the Timberline Inn. It’s Valentine’s Day, the inn’s soft opening that the town’s been waiting for. I’ll go to the cotillion with my chin up.
Because happy is my thing. Hopeful is my thing. Trying again is my thing.
And if Griffin Renshaw has left Silver Pine behind, I’ll still show up tonight and dance. Because joy is conditional on one person only. Me.
And I choose happy.
Chapter Thirty
Griffin
My phone buzzeson the dresser just as I’m fumbling with the buttons on my dress shirt.
“Logan.” I say, answering the call. No video this time, thankfully. I don’t need my brother reading my face right now.
“How are things?”
“Complicated.”
“Care to share?”
“Not at the moment,” I say, as I pick up my new tie.
