He'd taken over the task without being asked, somewhere around Tuesday, and now the spools were arranged in a way that made sense. Color gradients instead of the chaos I'd lived with for years. My grandmother used to organize this same cabinet, her hands moving through the spools with the same kind of focused attention. She'd had her own system too. I'd inherited her chaos when I inherited everything else, never bothered to impose my own order.
Jamie hummed while he worked, something tuneless and half-conscious, his fingers moving through the different textures with a focus that didn't match the simplicity of the task. He'd pushed his sleeves up past his elbows, and I could see the dog-ear tattoo on his wrist every time he reached for another spool.
Late afternoon light came through the front windows and caught his hair, turning the blond to gold. The rust-colored sweater he'd worn this morning was draped over the back of the chair by the register. He worked in just his thermal now, comfortable in a space that used to be only mine.
I should be working. Valentine's Day was a week from tomorrow, and the Redding wedding the day afterwards. Most of the pieces would need to be done right before the big day, but there were some structures I could get ready, orders for thisweek that needed finishing, three more due tomorrow. But I'd stopped in the doorway to the back room, wire cutters in my hand, watching Jamie exist in my shop like he'd always been there.
If this continued, I caught myself thinking.What would I put in his arrangements? What would my hands reach for without thinking?
Ranunculus. The answer came without effort. Peach and coral, maybe cream. Charm. Attraction.You are radiant.The flowers I kept gravitating toward when he was on my mind. Garden roses too, softer than red. Intention without aggression. And eucalyptus for something I didn't want to name.
I cut the thought off before it could go further. Dangerous thinking.
The dogs were asleep in their corner. Marceline on her back, paws twitching, dreaming about something, maybe squirrels. Bubblegum curled against her, one ear still cocked toward the door. They'd stopped reacting to the bell after the first few days. The shop was theirs now, same as the bed, same as the treats I kept in the drawer and pretended I wasn't sneaking them.
This is what it could be like.
The thought came without warning. Not the first time this week, but sharper now. More insistent. And underneath it, the familiar fear I'd trained into myself over years of solitude:Don't want this. Wanting leads to having, and having leads to losing.
Jamie held up two spools of red ribbon, comparing shades, brow furrowed like the decision mattered. Wine-red or crimson. He'd started caring about things like that, which red worked with which pink, which texture felt right for sympathy versus celebration. I hadn't taught him any of it. He'd just noticed.
The way he'd noticed where I kept the extra tape. How he'd figured out my shorthand on the whiteboard where I kept trackof orders. How he just knew to come up behind me and hug me when I was losing steam. Just because.
The bell rang, and Jamie's face shifted into customer-service mode. A woman I recognized from the lodge, Jolie Danson, event coordinator at Hawkin's Ridge Ski Lodge, stepped through the door with a tablet tucked under her arm and the harried energy of someone juggling twelve things at once.
“Hi there.” She offered Jamie a quick smile. “Is Holden around? I wanted to do a final check-in on the Redding wedding flowers for the fifteenth.”
I stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. Jamie could handle this. He'd been getting better at it all week, knowing which questions he could answer himself and which ones needed me.
“He's in the back working on arrangements,” Jamie said. “But I can pull up the order if you want to go over the details. I've been helping out with the wedding prep.”
Jolie's shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That would be great. The bride's mother has called me three times this week about the shade of roses in the centerpieces.”
Jamie pulled up the order on the laptop, turning the screen so she could see. “Centerpieces, bridal bouquet, six bridesmaids, boutonnieres for the groom's party, and the arch arrangements.” He scrolled through the details with an ease that made me proud. “Everything's ordered and will be ready to assemble day-of. Holden's planning to have the van loaded by ten for a noon setup.”
“And the roses?”
“I've seen the reference photos. It’s going to be perfect.” Jamie's voice stayed warm, conspiratorial. “Holden's work is incredible. She's going to love it.”
I couldn't help the way that casual praise made me smile. The way he said it like he meant it.
Jolie made a note on her tablet, visibly relieved. “You're a lifesaver. This wedding has been a logistical nightmare, and the flowers are the one thing I haven't had to worry about.” She tucked the tablet back under her arm. “I'll see you Sunday morning.”
The bell chimed behind her, and the shop went quiet. Jamie appeared in the doorway to the back room, a small smile playing at his mouth.
“Handled it.”
“You did.” The words came out softer than I intended. “You knew the whole order.”
“I've been paying attention.” He shrugged, but there was something pleased in his expression. “Figured if I'm going to be here, I should actually be useful.”
I'd noticed the difference in myself this week—the way my voice changed when I talked to him versus when I talked to customers. It bothered me, how obvious it must be.
“Hey, before I forget.” Jamie moved closer. “One of my neighbors stopped by while you were in the back. Mrs. Huang? She said her nephew Jake might come by next week about work.”
My hands stilled on the arrangement. “Really?”
“Yeah. Eighteen, just finished high school. Looking for weekend hours. You should talk to him.” Jamie leaned against the workbench, watching me work. “You can't keep doing this alone. That's not sustainable.”
