"Do you think I could take some of these?" I ask.
He looks at me and grins, knowing what I'm thinking. He doesn't respond, just motions to the bin. After I dig around for some discarded flowers that I think are stunning, I get to work laying them out on some brown paper. Once I have them exactly how I want them, I roll the paper around them, creating a small bouquet. Caleb hands me the twine.
"Thanks, I tell him," as I knot the twine.
"Have fun on your date, and I can't wait to hear all about it." He steps up and gives me a hug, careful not to squash the flowers. "I had a great day working alongside you."
"Me too."
We make our way down the hallway to where I know Jason is waiting. I grip the bouquet in my hand, hoping it's not too much.
When we step out into the showroom, the last of the sunlight paints the shop in hues of amber and gold. The shop, once a place of nervous anticipation, now feels like a place where I can truly begin to blossom.
Chapter Nine
__________
Jason
"Oh, it was…an experience," Ben chuckles, leaning back in the booth across from me, starting to look more relaxed. "Caleb is a sweetheart. A whirlwind, but a sweetheart nonetheless. We were working on some mockups for wedding bouquets," he pauses to take a sip of his water, "and somehow he managed to get a petal stuck to his forehead. I mean, seriously, how did he not feel it?" He tells me while pointing to his forehead. I grin at his animated motions. "I swear he walked around the workroom for about twenty minutes until Barrett came in and plucked it off like it wasn't the first time it had happened."
When I first moved to Rockport Ridge, I met Caleb while he was still working at Steamed. He was so quiet and shy. Over the years, he has really found himself. Barrett has played a significant role in helping Caleb blossom into the young man he is today. Always there to be his guide but never an anchor to hold him back.
"Sounds like you had a good first day." I let out a breathy laugh before setting my wine glass on the table. There's a softness in his eyes.
"I really did." Ben looks down at his water glass, running his fingers through the condensation on the side. "But that wasn't even the best part. Later, he was trying to demonstrate how to wire a lily–mine seemed to droop a little–and the whole stem snapped. The lily sort of launched itself and landed in the middle of a container filled with delicate baby's breath. Imagine a tiny,white explosion. Caleb looked like he was going to cry, but then he just started trying to scoop up the tiny flowers with his bare hands. It was tragically…beautiful."
I hide my smile behind my glass.
"It was never boring with Caleb around. I think I might actually enjoy this job. It's like a constant, floral-scented improv show. Just gotta keep an eye out for flying lilies and rogue petals, apparently." He laughs as the waiter drops off our food.
After a few moments of silence, Ben moans around a mouthful of lasagna, and my thoughts go somewhere they shouldn't.
I clear my throat.
"So…how is working with Barrett?" I try to keep my voice light, nonchalant, as if merely curious about his new boss. The question itself feels like a loose petal, threatening to detach and land somewhere it shouldn't. I know, logically, that Barrett is Caleb's husband and daddy. Yet, a tiny knot of something––envy?––still tightens in my chest.
Ben, oblivious to my internal drama, nods. "Barrett's great. He treated us to lunch. He ordered sandwiches from the cafe with fries. He's totally professional, too. Never prying into my personal life, unlike Caleb." He takes another bite of food and starts fidgeting with his fork. "Caleb could be waltzing around the workroom with a plant, and Barrett wouldn't be phased one bit. They balance each other."
I can picture it. And Ben's right, they do balance each other.
I realize that this feeling I have isn't jealousy—it's admiration.
Ben has gone quiet, and I notice a shift in his demeanor. Did something happen?
"What's wrong, little one?" I whisper, reaching my hand across the table to offer some support.
Ben looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. The typical lightness I have seen all night has dimmed.
"Yeah, Barrett's…he's great. Really. He's just, you know, he's got a lot on his plate too." He pauses, a hesitant sigh escaping him. "Actually, speaking of plates…or rather, papers…I was hoping you could help me with something. There are some forms for the shop that I need to feel out, and they're a bit…fiddly."
Ben looks up and finally meets my eyes. There is a flicker of something akin to vulnerability there. I recognize that look. It's the same one I see sometimes in my kindergartners when they are struggling with a new skill. A quiet battle with something that feels impossibly difficult.
"Fiddly forms?" I echo. My tone softens. "What kind of fiddly?"
I push my plate aside, a sudden clarity washing over me. I understand that Ben isn't forgetful or disorganized. He needs a different kind of support.
Ben swallows, his voice barely above a whisper. "It…it's hard for me to read some of it. The small print, the way the letters blur together sometimes. I’m…I’m dyslexic. And Barrett needs me to get everything filled out so I can get paid, along with insurance stuff. He wants everything turned back into him by the end of the week, and I'm just…I feel like…I feel…I'm drowning." He looks down again, a blush creeping up his neck. "I know you work with little kids, and you're good at explaining things, so I thought…maybe…"
