I smile. “My mom was big on Spring.”
She pauses for just a moment. “Was?”
“Yeah.” My voice softens. “She passed away almost two years ago.”
“Oh.” Cassie’s voice turns quiet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” I offer her a small shrug. “How could you?” I catch her eyes in the mirror. “What about you? Any siblings?”
“Not blood-related.” She answers easily. “I grew up in the foster care system. I was never adopted, so I’ve had a lot of siblings over the years.” She ties off the braid and adjusts a few loose strands. “That’s why I’m so good at braiding hair.”
My chest tightens a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that about you.”
She smiles softly. “It’s okay. How could you?” Without missing a breath, she steps back, admiring her work. “What do you think?”
I stand and move closer to the mirror. The braid is intricate, elegant, starting on one side and flowing across my head before resting over my shoulder. It’s beautiful.
“It’s stunning.” I smile at her reflection. “You really are a pro braid maker.”
She looks pleased. “You look incredible.”
I turn and hug her. “Thank you. Truly. I would’ve had to cancel if it wasn’t for you.”
“And miss the night you’re about to have with the town’s finest?” Her tone turns dramatic. “Never.”
Then she tilts her head. “You do know part of tonight’s event is for the sponsors of the Fleet of Flowers, right?”
“Cassie, I know nothing.”
She laughs. “Okay, but you’ve heard of it?”
“Yeah. The Memorial Day ceremony for those lost at sea. All boats covered in flowers and led by the Coast Guard.”
“Right.” She nods. “Part of the ceremony is that all the boats make a circle out on the water, and the Coast Guard drops a wreath in the middle from one of their helicopters. A higher-ranking officer gets assigned to hang beneath it and release the wreath.”
“Oh.” I picture it for a moment.
“Well,” she adds lightly, “your date is the lucky guy doing it this year.”
“Oh.”
“And that makes him the guest of honor tonight.”
“Oh,” I repeat, and she laughs.
“No pressure,” I mutter.
The doorbell rings, startling both of us, and then we’re laughing again.
“He’s early.” Cassie checks the time. “Ten till.”
“Oh.” I step out of the bathroom and head for my closet. “That’s probably Aiden.”
“Aiden?” Her brows lift. “As in Aiden Holloway?”
“Yeah.”
“As in the hot fireman Aiden Holloway?”
