I feel exposed.
Swallowing, my throat feels suddenly dry, "Barrett," my voice a little shaky, "I, uh…I was wondering if I could possibly take these home with me? Just to make sure I get everything perfectly right. Also, we have so many flower orders waiting, I wouldn't want to hold things up by getting bogged down here." I force a smile, attempting to hide the silent panic rising in me.
Barrett furrows his brows slightly before nodding. "Of course, Ben. Whatever works best. Just get them back to me as soon as you can."
Relief washes over me, but my hands tremble slightly as I gather the papers and put them back in the folder. I try to swallow down the shame I feel. I want more than anything to be able to simply fill out a few forms without it feeling like a monumental task.
With the paperwork tucked into my bag, I put it out of my mind so I can enjoy the rest of my workday.
After lunch, Caleb and I work side-by-side, our hands moving with a growing synchronicity as we assemble cheerful bouquets for a bride-to-be and her bridesmaids. The wedding isn't until this summer, but Ben promised her a mockup to help settle her hyperfixation on the flowers.
I am simply present, lost in the joy of creation. Each carefully placed bloom feels like another twirl my mom did while she danced in my childhood garden.
As the afternoon sun lowers in the sky, I feel a genuine sense of accomplishment. I'd navigated the intricacies of the bridesmaids' bouquet. At the same time, Caleb worked on the bride's, complementing each other's style while harmonizing with Caleb through a Disney singalong. I even manage to push the looming paperwork to the back of my mind. I'll figure something out.
"Oh. My. Gosh." Caleb stops suddenly and looks at me with wide eyes. Did I do something wrong? "We should totally have a playdate."
I blink at him and his unexpected suggestion. A playdate.
My mind, still humming with the last strains ofWe Don't Talk About Bruno, momentarily stalls. I look over at Caleb, whose bright eyes are practically sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. Pure excitement. Sincerity. The same openness that has made me feel comfortable all day. Comfortable enough to sing off-key.
"A playdate?" I repeat his words. A slow smile spreads across my face. The word tasted a little surreal. I can imagine it: more singing, more laughter, maybe even sharing some of my anxieties about the paperwork with Caleb, who seems like he'd offer a kind word or a silly anecdote in return.
The connection I feel with Caleb is different from the kind I feel for Jason. Jason's is fluttery. This connection with Caleb is something different. I can't explain it.
Before I can talk myself out of it or get too deep into my head, I nod. "I think that would be fun," I tell him softly.
"Yay!" Caleb bounces on the balls of his feet. His excitement is infectious. "Like, we could have a movie night? Or Daddy Barrett can make us dinner? Go to a toy store? Or bookstore?There's a vintage one down the street that has the best children's book section.
A pang of nervousness hits at the wordbookstore. But, don't daddies read the books to the littles? I can just sit back and enjoy the stories and the pictures.
"Let's get through Valentine's Day and then things will hopefully slow down and we can plan something," I tell him. Am I ready for a playdate? I've played with other littles at the club, so this wouldn't be much different. Right?
I carefully place the arrangement I made on the counter in front of Barrett. The customer is going to pick it up before closing, which is still an hour away.
"Ben." Barrett's words come out soft and genuine. "This is stunning. I think this is the best one you made all day," he tells me. "But, then again, all of your arrangements have been wonderful. You've got a real gift. Truly,"
I know my cheeks are red from the praise. My last boss never praised me for my work. He always found fault with something and needed to make adjustments.
"Thanks, Barrett."
"I'm so glad you decided to join our little flower family. This is just the beginning for you here." My heart swells with a mix of pride. I'm building something here, not just with flowers, but with these connections. I wonder if I confide in him about my dyslexia, he'd help me fill out the paperwork.
"Can I ask–" my words are cut off by the front bell. I turn to see the most handsome guy standing there with a smile that matches mine. "Jason, you're early," I tell him, walking over and giving him a hug.
The texts we've been exchanging for the past couple of days make him feel more like an old friend than a stranger.
"I couldn't wait to see you," he tells me when I pull back. "I wanted to chat with Barrett as well for a few minutes.
"Ben, why don't you go clean up your workspace, and then you can take off a little early today. You've earned it." Barrett gives me a wink, and I nod, excusing myself to the backroom with a promise I'll be out shortly.
As I tidy up my workspace, the scent of eucalyptus and lavender clings to my clothes like a pleasant memory. The afternoon had been a whirlwind of color, music, and newfound confidence, punctuated by Caleb's delightful, unexpected invitation. The idea of a "playdate" with Caleb, a chance to extend this easy friendship beyond the fragrant walls of the shop, feels…right like an unexpected bloom in the garden.
"Hey, Caleb," I call over to him as he finishes rolling a spool of ribbon he'd been working with.
"Yeah?"
I know Caleb doesn't like certain flowers for his arrangements because he is very particular. I glance down at the discard pile.
