Get a grip, Joy.
This wasn’t me. I didn’t spiral over men. I didn’t fixate on someone after a single uncomfortable interaction. I didn’t unravel because of a look—a look that hadn’t even been kind.
Especially not someone like him.
I pushed myself upright and swung my legs over the side of the bed, the floor grounding me. I needed to move. To do something ordinary enough to stitch myself back together.
Work.
McKinley Flowers didn’t pause because I’d had some kind of internal meltdown. Britney was covering the shop today, but she wasn’t meant to do it alone for long. I’d told her I’d be in after my meeting.
I glanced at the clock.
Still time to pretend this hadn’t shaken me.
I changed clothes quickly—jeans, a soft blouse, flats. The mirror reflected someone familiar. Sweet, capable, put-together.
If I hadn’t been inside my own head, no one would’ve known anything had shifted.
When I stepped into the shop, the bell chimed its familiar note, and Britney looked up from the counter with a grin.
“There you are! I was just about to text you.”
Relief loosened something in my chest. “Everything okay?”
“Totally. We had two walk-ins, and Mrs. Kline called to confirm her order for Friday.” She tilted her head, studying me. “Big meeting?”
I hesitated—just a beat too long.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “A lot to think about.”
Britney nodded like that made perfect sense and went back to trimming stems. The normalcy of it—the snip of shears, the rustle of greenery—settled me further.
I moved behind the counter, opened my laptop, and pulled up invoices. Numbers behaved. They didn’t look at you like they could undo you with a glance.
As the afternoon wore on, the edges smoothed. The heat faded. The shock dulled.
But something remained.
Not guilt. Not regret.
Awareness.
Like I’d been walking through my life with a door locked inside me—and someone I didn’t even like had brushed past and turned the key.
I didn’t know his name.
I didn’t know what he did.
I didn’t even know if I’d ever see him again.
But as I arranged flowers and reassured customers and built beauty with steady hands, one thought returned again and again, quiet and unsettling in its certainty.
Men like him didn’t belong in my world.
8
MICAH
