‘Yeah. Not ten minutes ago.’ He rummaged through the stack, pulling out a crumpled slip and handing it over.
Immediately, my eyes zeroed in on the numbers at the bottom of the sheet.
Too many fucking zeros.
‘It, uh, it wasn’t the usual delivery.’ Steve glanced nervously from me to the paper clutched in my hand. ‘They only brought about half the stock we usually get. I tried to complain, tell ‘em we usually get way more, but when he handed me the receipt, I, uh, couldn’t really argue.’
I folded the piece of paper, shoving it into my back pocket. This time, my smile probably looked more like a grimace. ‘It’s the right amount.’
The words came out stilted. The truth was, sinceCora’swasn’t bringing in enough money, I couldn’t afford to purchase the usual restock. Half of the last shipment went to waste, anyway. The sight of bags and bags of mulch, flowers wilting in their trays, seeds and plants sitting in the stockroom, unused and unwanted, tightened the coil around my heart.
It wouldn’t be like this forever. I refused to accept that the store I’d dedicated nearly a decade of my life to setting up and running was crumbling before my very eyes.
I’d find a way to fix it—even if it killed me.
A young couple entered through the front, hand in hand. I gave Steve one last pat on the back as he shifted around the counter and went to greet them.
That’s one of the reasons I’d hired him when I first set upCora’s. He was the friendliest person you’d ever meet—sometimes obnoxiously so. It made up for the fact that over the years, it became apparent his knowledge of flora was limited. He made up for it with sheer enthusiasm.
My to do list for the day was quickly stacking up as I headed to my office. I was halfway through mentally organising my day when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
For a second, my heart seized. It quickly started again when I caught sight of my brother's name on the caller ID.
‘How’s the hangover?’ I said, tone teasing.
A rough chuckle sounded. ‘Barely got a headache. Don’t know who I’ve become, man. We won, and I went back to the hotel with Fallon, and we ordered our body weight in pizza.’
‘Sounds like a good night to me.’ I unlocked my office door and sank down into my rickety desk chair. It let out a loud squeal of protest.
‘Speaking of good nights, you must have had a fun one.’ The sarcasm was heavy in his tone. ‘How’s the she-devil?’
‘She’s safe.’ I scratched my freshly trimmed beard, lettingthose last words sink in.She’s safe.That’s all that mattered. Probably still tucked up in bed. I swiped a hand down my face.
Oliver scoffed. ‘Fucking hell, that woman… I swear to God, she’s—’ He let out a groan, unable to find a nice way to finish that sentence.
Oliver and Rosie’s relationship had always been contentious. Mainly because of her fierce protectiveness over her best friend and her inability to take Oliver seriously. She’d called him a “football twat” so often that the word twat had lost all meaning by this point.
Hearing the borderline disgust in his voice made my hands freeze in the act of turning on my computer.
‘She just went out for a drink. Hardly a punishable offence.’ My voice was tight.
‘For the eighth night in a row.’
Okay, I wasn’t aware it had been that frequent. ‘Still not an issue from where I’m sitting.’
‘Yeah, you’d think differently if you had a girlfriend on the edge of a panic attack and ready to call an Uber to drive her back home from Wales, because her best friend is too fucking self-centred?—’
‘Who shat in your porridge this morning?’ I snapped, effectively silencing his stream of consciousness. ‘Shouldn’t you be celebrating? You guys fucking won. The season’s over, you get your life back.’
Shifting his attention back to football pierced a hole in his frustration.
‘Yeah, and that wasn’t the best part of the night, man.’ Something like excitement sounded in his voice. I almost pulled the phone away from my ear to check if I was still on the phone with my brother, because the barely contained glee bubbling out of him was uncharacteristically concerning.
‘You finally beat your girlfriend in Mario Kart?’
‘Piss off. That’s not happening anytime soon.’
The two girls were freakishly good at that fucking game. I’d spent countless hours playing opposite them, and every time I inevitably lost, I was tempted to hurl the controller at the TV to the soundtrack of their laughter.
