“I didn’t know we were open yet,” she adds when I just stare at her.
I frown and jab my thumb backward over my shoulder. “The sign said open.”
“Have you been waiting long?” She steps back up to the table and places the scissors in her back pocket, then grabs the spool of ribbon.
“Maybe five minutes.”
“I’m so sorry about that.” She crosses to the door and opens it. When she looks up at me, gesturing for me to exit, I see the septum piercing—a silver hoop with a row of tiny diamonds. It’s dainty and barely noticeable at first glance.
I place my hand on the door above her head and hold it open. “Ladies first.”
She gives me a kind smile and walks out. I follow her as she takes a hard right, bringing us deeper into the shop. She comes to another door and yanks it open. Behind an old wooden desk, a teenage boy leans back with his head tipped against the chair. A mop of dark hair covers his eyes, and his arms are crossed over his chest. He looks like he’s about to fall backward.The kid’s asleep.
She walks over to the desk and shoves his feet off the scratched surface.
He jumps up, eyes springing open. “What?”
“We had a customer. What are you doing in here sleeping?” she snaps at him.
He pushes the long dark strands from his face. “It was an accident.”
“Go make some arrangements in the cooler,” she orders.
He nods once and mumbles, “Yes, ma’am.”
She seems satisfied with that and turns to exit, but she stops when she sees me. Her eyes meet mine, and I instantly begin to back out. I didn’t mean to follow her in here.
“Sorry,” I say again.
She strides out and goes to stand behind the counter. “What can I get you?”
“Uh…” Words get lodged in my throat as my mind runs wild.Why did I even come in here?I’m not going to buy flowers for my father’s funeral. And our mother is buried in another state, so it’s not like I can go place flowers on her grave. She moved here when she was sixteen and met my father. They got married right after she graduated from high school. When she passed, he had her body moved to her home state of Illinois. Like she’d know the fucking difference. I think he just wanted to get rid of her. Out of sight, out of mind type of thing. And a way to punish me so I wouldn’t get to visit her grave.
I run a hand through my hair. “What do you suggest?”
“Is this for a girlfriend? Wife?” she asks, and I don’t miss her eyes dropping to my left hand to check for a ring.
I almost choke at the question. Clearing my throat, I shake my head. “Neither.” I’ve never bought Lucy flowers, and I’m not about to start now. The only time I’ve ever purchased flowers was for my mother. On her birthday. She died five months later. “My mom’s birthday,” I say and instantly tense. It’s eight months away, and she’s fucking dead.
What am I doing?
She beams at me, her ice-blue eyes shining with excitement. “What do you have in mind?” she asks.
I find myself leaning toward her, my hips pushing into the counter. I’ve never seen anything like her before. She’s gorgeous. So colorful. So real. “What do you suggest?” I ask again, my eyes following the line of her square jaw and full lips.
She rattles off all the arrangement options and various flowers, and it makes my head hurt. I’m still feeling whatever pill Lucy gave me last night.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” I offer.
Her smile widens, and it’s beautiful. Reminds me of the sunset painted on the vase. “When do you need it by?”
“Thursday.” I almost roll my eyes at that.
She nods and writes it down.
“I’m sorry if that’s last minute,” I add.
Liar.
