This was my daughter.
I bit down hard, forced the surge of emotion back down. I couldn't cry in front of Chloe. Not again. Once was enough.
No girl wanted a man who cried all the time. I couldn't believe I'd done it before. I never thought that kind of judgment would apply to me.
But this feeling—I couldn't describe it. I'd never held something that trusted me completely. My hands had been stained with blood, signed death warrants, pulled triggers. But I'd never held a baby.
Chloe stood beside me, still holding the empty bottle. She didn't say anything. Just watched. Her gaze moved from my face to Emily's, then back to mine.
There was something soft in that look. Even if it was just wishful thinking on my part.
From that day on, I was allowed to hold Emily. Not every day. Not for as long as I wanted. But when Chloe got overwhelmed, she'd shift slightly, open up a space, give me a chance to take the baby. She never said a word. But that shift was her silent permission.
I treated every moment like it might be the last. Holding her five extra minutes today was a win. Chloe's mouth curving slightly while watching me with the baby was progress. When she handed me the bottle and our fingers brushed, even if it was only a tenth of a second, it was enough to replay in my head all night on the walk home.
Our relationship was moving faster than I'd expected. To keep things smooth, I had Luca, who'd just quit and followed me to this town, hire people to come buy flowers every day.
Ruth was too old, and Chloe had just given birth. Noah only helped out occasionally. So when I volunteered, hauling the heavy planters quickly became my job. It wasn't exactly a scheme. I was just a decent boss making sure my employees brought their girlfriends flowers to keep things happy.
Business picked up. I blended into the little flower shop and became employee number two.
But my presence also raised Noah's suspicions.
"Hey, Enzo." He said my name casually, like we'd known each other for ten years. "I've been meaning to ask. What did you do before this?"
I looked up from the cooler. "Before this?"
"Your job. I saw those scars on your arms when you were moving the flowers. You ex-military?"
Chloe's hands stilled behind the counter where she was wrapping a bouquet. Clearly listening.
"Something like that." I stood and pushed the last bucket of lilies into the cooler. "Close enough."
"Which branch? Iraq or Afghanistan?"
"Noah." Grandma Ruth's voice drifted from the workroom in back. Not loud, but carrying enough weight to shut her grandson up. "If someone doesn't want to talk about something, don't push. What did I teach you when you were little?"
"Just asking won't kill anyone," Noah muttered, but he changed the subject. "So what's the deal with you and Gray? You're here every day. Come on. You're here for her, aren't you?"
"He's a customer." Chloe's voice cut in from behind the counter, cold. She didn't look up. Her flower shears snipped sharply. "A customer who buys so many damn flowers I put him to work for free."
Noah looked at me, then at Chloe. His mouth twitched. "Free labor. Uh-huh."
"Noah!" Grandma Ruth appeared in the doorway, holding a bundle of trimmed rose stems. "That box of carnations in back isn't going to unpack itself. Go. Stop getting in the way."
"How am I in the way?"
"Every way. Go."
Noah grumbled under his breath but obeyed under his grandmother's stare and headed to the back. Watching Noah and Ruth bicker, Chloe let out a faint smile.
Though the second she noticed me watching, she killed it.
Looked like if I wanted forgiveness, I'd need to haul a lot more flowers.
Work ended late today. I walked to the window, habit pulling myeyes toward Chloe's place. Her living room light was on. Shadows moved behind the curtains. Probably putting Emily down.
Then my gaze shifted to the main road at the edge of town.
