CARYS
If I thought that week leading up to Thanksgiving was busy, it has nothing on the entire month of December. The moment I reopen the shop after Black Friday, the flood gates open. There’s a whole slew of custom micro weddings planned for that week between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve, double what I’d expected considering the averages other florists had given me over the summer as a way to scale my expectations this entire first year. By the end of the first full week, Billie and I are officially drowning even with turning down three custom company holiday parties. Paxton and Rhett have both taken to helping the few hours they can in between their insane game schedule, and I’ve scrapped my off days. The shop may be closed, but I’m still there, trying to get everything finished. The nights the guys are traveling, Billie is at my place, drinking wine and reviewing all of the wholesale orders while the game plays in the background.
It’s left little room to actuallydateRhett, especially with our need to be so covert. Every night he’s home, I pack a bag and sleep at his house, needing as much of his smell and feel aspossible to keep me steady when he’s gone. The reactivity to his distance is only getting worse, sometimes not even managing to make it from the beginning of his three day trip to the end of it without an entire emotional meltdown on my bathroom floor in the middle of the night. He’s given me extra shirts that I hoard like a dragon with jewels—cuddling with them wrapped around pillows like they’re a poor imitation of the man himself—but even that doesn’t seem to be enough by the end of the second week of December. I’m ready to crawl entirely out of my body, so desperate for something in all of this absurdity to give so I can have a break.
I brush my cheek on my shoulder while wrapping another toss bouquet with simple white ribbon. Tears are just a given at this point if Rhett’s not actively touching me. It’s embarrassing as all hell, but it’s the truth. I clean up and put on a show when there’s someone who needs to see me and Billie’s not in the shop, but the rest of the time I don’t even bother.
The bell at the front of the shop chimes, and then footsteps echo on the hardwood. I glance up as someone leans against the threshold. Billie has her arms crossed, concern pinching in her eyebrows. She’s dressed in a beautiful forest green sweater dress, the turtle neck reaching just below her chin, and a pair of dark brown thigh high boots that disappear under the dress’s hem. My stomach clenches and my breath catches. I drop the scissors. They clang to the table, and I curse.
“Fuck,” I mutter, quickly closing them and setting them away from me.
My hands shake as I set the bouquet in the small plastic cup half-full with water along with the three bridesmaid micro bouquets. Then I manage to turn to my best friend and give a shaky smile, wiping my cheeks and drying my hands on my apron.
“I thought you had a flight this morning,” I say, less shaky than I expected.
She nods. “It got delayed. So, I wanted to stop in before I went to get checked-in for it.”
“Oh, that’s really sweet.” I clumsily clear off my work table, dropping my untreated stems into the compost while everything else gets dumped into the large, rolling trash bin. I have no capability of separating recycling right now.
“You want me to call the guys? Paxton will be here in another half hour with the last bit from the wholesaler for Tuesday.”
I shake my head. Their schedule has been extra busy since last week when Timber and Kane’s Omega went into heat and they had to miss a couple games.
“No, I’ll be okay,” I say. “I have the sign flipped to closed, so I haven’t had any walk-ins, and my afternoon consult rescheduled to January. So I’m just working on this wedding for Sunday, going to double check my stem count for the Monday order, and then I’ll be finished.”
With any luck, I’ll have an hour to curl up on Rhett’s chest and relearn how to breathe without tears falling into my mouth. Even just fifteen minutes would be better than nothing at all. I’ve already accepted I’m not going to the game tonight. There’s no possible way I can handle being around all those people, and there weren’t any suites left available. Besides, if I have this touch-starvation induced meltdown at the stadium without Billie to help me cover? It’ll be a nightmare. So, no game.
“All right.” She pushes off the threshold and crosses the work room, pulling me into a tight hug. I breathe deep, enjoying the way her soft peach scent blends with her shampoo like it’s an intentionally crafted perfume. “I’ll be back Monday for the last push before Christmas. You’ve got this. You’re strong and capable. Text Paxton if you need anything and Rhett can’t come because of cameras and everything.”
I smile as she pulls away. “I will. Have a good time celebrating babies.”
“Oh, I will. Marley was convinced I’d be first. I’m going to delight in teasing her in person and not just on the phone.”
She pulls her hair over a shoulder as she heads out the front of the store, the bells jingling as she leaves through the main door. I finish cleaning up my mess and then put the two plastic cups full of flowers into my overflow cooler purchased on Black Friday out of an abundance of caution—or intuition, maybe. It’s nearly overflowing like my larger ones. My hands shake as I put away the order information, the snap of the rings making me jump. God, I’m a certified mess today.
“Just another hour, Carys,” I mutter to myself as I sweep up the mess in the back room. “Just one more hour, and then Rhett will make it better. Sixty minutes. You can handle another sixty minutes.”
But even as I hype myself up, heat settles in my stomach in a way that’s become achingly familiar since Thanksgiving. My scent breaks through my heavy-duty lotion in one overwhelming wave, an edge to it I’ve never smelled before. My breath catches even as that heat pulses low again, echoing through my clit and tightening my nipples. I finally give up the pretense and pull my phone from the back counter, texting Rhett in an act of desperation I’ll be embarrassed about the moment I can think straight.
I need you.
Oh yeah?
He sends a winking emoji. It pushes me over the edge I’ve been teetering on. Tears stream down my face in an inelegantmess. My fingers shake so much, I’m sure there’s typos in what I’m sending.
I feel weird.
Weird how?
Another pulse of heat, this one so strong I groan. My nipples are so sensitive, I hiss in a breath as my bra shifts. My scent is so strong now. There’s that demanding edge to it, reminding me of a siren’s call.
Like if I don’t knot right now, I’m going to fall apart.
Oh, fuck.
The next pulse comes with pain along with the heat. I slide down the wall, clutching at my stomach, miserable with it all. I need Rhett. I need him to touch me and knot me and bite me to make this all okay. It won’t ever be okay if he isn’t here.
He texts again, but I can’t really read the words through my tears. I open it anyway.
