"Hey, Caleb," I call out while making my way over to him.
"Jason. Hi. What brings you by on this fine Saturday morning?" He beams at me. If he sang it, I would swear we were in our own Disney movie. "And judging by that conspiratorial grin, it's not just about snagging a few stray flowers from my discard pile."
I swear, this guy is the sweetest, and I hate that he's taken because he would be a boy I would have loved to claim. Unlike some of my friends, I'm not into bratty littles. I like them sweet and playful. But there is no chemistry between me and Caleb. Just friendship. Besides, he's totally in love with his daddy, Barrett, one of my closest friends.
Caleb gestures towards the counter. When I turn, I see Barrett stepping out from the back room.
"Hey, man. I thought I heard you out here. How's it going?" Barrett asks, stepping up beside Caleb.
"Good. I came to offer a mission for our floral magician." I tease.
"Spill it. Valentine's Day deadline is looming, and I'm guessing this isn't for a delivery to your parents." Barrett's face-breaking smile has the corners of his eyes crinkling and me laughing.
"Calm down, big guy. I'm still single. And no, not my parents. They are for…um…Grayson," I admit with a slight blush warming my cheeks. "Valentine's Day is next week, and I… well, I wanted to get him some friendship flowers. Something that says, 'You're great, and I appreciate you,' you know? Nothing too… romantic, but definitely meaningful. I was even thinking about a unique plant of some sort, but the dude has a notoriously black thumb. He can't even keep a succulent alive."
Caleb starts to giggle. "That's because he overwaters them. I've sold him at least six in the past year."
Barrett just shakes his head. "That guy needs a daddy to take care of him…and his plants."
We all share a laugh over our friend.
"Why don't I show you around the shop?" Barrett tells me before turning his attention to Caleb. "Why don't you check on Ben? See if he needs anything."
Caleb nods and starts moving toward the back.
"Friendship flowers for Grayson, huh? Solid move, man. And don't you worry about his thumb, we've got plenty of sturdy, low-maintenance options that practically thrive on neglect. Come on."
Barrett guides me around the shop and leads me past a riot of crimson roses and delicate lilies, stopping beside a display of vibrant succulents and hardy snake plants. "See these guys?" Barrett directs my attention to another section of plants. "They're practically indestructible. Tough as nails. A little water now and then, some sun–that's it. And they come in all sorts ofcool shapes and colors. Another benefit is that they help purify the air around them."
"That might actually be beneficial during allergy season coming up," I say more to myself.
Then we move on to some of the simpler designs and Barrett assures me that there will be more flowers on display next week.
"You know we can always do something custom, too."
I peer at the plants, nodding thoughtfully. "Yeah, those look pretty good. They don't scream 'I'm secretly in love with you,' do they?"
Barrett laughs. "Definitely not. More like, 'Hey, you're a cool dude, and I'm glad we're friends.' Plus," Barrett continues, his eyes twinkling as he gestures toward the back where I know they have a workbench laden with tools and ribbons, "we can always jazz it up a bit. Maybe wrap the pot in some cool, textured paper and tie it with rugged twine instead of satin. We can even add a little charm, something subtle that hints at your shared interests. I'm thinking we can definitely whip up something custom next week, tailored perfectly for Grayson. No pressure, just good vibes."
A wave of relief hits me. This is precisely what I wanted. Barrett's expertise, combined with his understanding of my slightly awkward intentions, made the whole process feel manageable and even, dare I think it, fun.
I imagine Grayson's reaction, a genuine smile, not a confused or embarrassed one.
"Okay, I'm liking the snake plant idea. And the custom touches sound good. Let's go with that."
Barrett picks up the plant that I liked and takes it to the counter, and lets me know that payment isn't due until pickup.
"How's the employee search going?" I ask, trying to make small talk as he writes up my ticket for the plant andcustomizations. I remember Caleb being overwhelmed the other night at dinner.
Barrett nods, a grin returning to his face. "I'll have something really special ready for you. And as for help," he pauses, glancing around the shop, "we may have found someone, but it's–" Barrett gets cut off with a worried voice coming from the entryway to the backroom.
"Daddy, come quick," Caleb cries out. "Help. It's Ben."
Barrett exchanges a worried glance with me, and I don't have time to ask him who Ben is. Without a word, he turns and follows Caleb down the hall, and I trail after them.
The scene that greets me is not what I was expecting. I expected shattered glass, a severed finger, a tangled mess of vines, not… this.
Instead, there is a small boy with blonde curly hair, similar to mine, sitting on the floor amidst a scattering of petals and stems. He's sobbing. His face buried in his knees, the picture of utter dejection.
