“No, but I still have the message you sent me on Facebook with your number in it.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah. Well, um... I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I nod, then give a small wave. “Bye.”
“Bye, Hope.”
As I head towards the car park, my shoulders drop and my grip on the box loosens, as if I’d been wound up tight the entire time and it’s only now, after putting some distance between us, that my body finally relaxes.
I don’t know what possessed me to say that. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in over a year. The last thing I should be doing is helping this man out, the very same man whose girlfriend cheated on him withmyex-husband.
It’s just plant shopping, Hope. Not a date.
And that’s exactly what it is: just a plant enthusiast, simply helping a clueless stranger pick out plants for his apartment.
Yeah, that’s it.I convince myself.That’s all it is.
Chapter 21
Kaden
Hope scans the plant section with a look of determination on her face, her small, delicate hands curled firmly around the trolley handle like she’s a woman on a mission. And technically, she is. Today, she’s joined me at the Home and Garden Centre, helping me pick out a few indoor plants for my apartment, an invitation I’d extended on a whim while we were at the farmer’s market yesterday.
The intensity in her gaze as she examines each plant tells me just how seriously she takes plant shopping—how much care and thought she pours into it without even realising.
Whereas me, I would’ve simply grabbed the most appealing one, paid little mind to the time and effort it actually takes to care for it, and called it a day.
We decided to grab two trolleys—one for the smaller plants and another for the larger ones that would sit on the floor of my apartment. And since I’m fully expecting to leave withhalf the nursery, thanks to one very enthusiastic plant lady, I brought Jason’s truck along to haul them all home.
“This one’s called a snake plant, and it’s great for beginners like you,” she explains, holding out a small, spiky plant thingy with odd patterns, its pointed leaves sharp enough to take out an eye.
“It only needs watering when the soil is dry, and it’s remarkably resilient,” she adds. “My mother keeps one in her bathroom, and she’s the most forgetful person I know. She’ll go weeks, sometimes months, without watering it, and it still survives.”
“Sounds great to me. Sold.”
She smiles and carefully sets the plant into her trolley, making sure it’s securely in place and won’t topple over as we move on to the next shelf.
She continues her perusal while I hang back, watching her do her thing. I feel completely useless just standing here, like I should be helping her in some way, but have no idea how. Yet it’s clear this is something that brings her a lot of joy.
If I wasn’t aware she was going through a heartbreak, I would’ve never been able to tell, not when she looks so completely happy and at ease in this moment.
I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that she’s right here,in front of me,after thinking I’d never see or hear from her again. Ever since she walked away from me at the food court that day, I haven’t stopped wondering how she’s been.
There were countless times I wanted to pick up the phone just to check in, to see if she was okay. But I told myself itwasn’t my place. I had no right to know. For all I knew, she could have tossed the evidence away and carried on with her life as if she’d never just been handed the worst news of her life.
Hope stops in front of two identical plants—one green, the other black. She scoops them both up, cradling them in her arms like tiny babies, then turns to face me.
“This is one of my absolute favourites because they’re practically indestructible. I actually picked up the black one at the farmer’s market yesterday, if you noticed. I left my other ones back in Sandy Vale, so I had to get a new one. They’re called ZZ plants, and you only need to water them about once every three weeks. They thrive in low light, and if you happen to forget to water them for a while, they’re probably one of the most forgiving plants you’ll ever own.”
“Is there a difference between the two?”
“Just their colour. One’s a vibrant lime green, and the other has a more burnt, darker shade. The care for either of them is exactly the same,” she explains, then lifts the black one. “They usually refer to this one as the ‘Raven ZZ plant’, obviously because of its dark foliage.”
“I’ll take them both—y’know, for added variety.” I give her a wink.
She snorts and shakes her head, and I can’t help but smile at how utterly adorable it is.
“You know a great deal about plants. Do you work with them?” I ask, genuinely curious.
