But I could not deny that seeing him flung reason out the door, my emotions scattered to every end of the spectrum. I had to get it together. Wyatt did not deserve me, least of all me falling apart like this.
Sitting in my small office, I look out at the crowd making their way to and from lunch just outside my window. We all hold secrets, some more incriminating than others. I kept my cards close to my chest for so long I’d forgotten they were there.
I look at the clock above the door. I have to pick up London from day care in an hour. My heart does flip-flops at the thought of her. She’s my whole world. Being her mother is by far my greatest achievement. With bouncy brown curls and wise eyes, she makes everything better. We are happy. Life is wonderful, isn’t it?
I close the ledgers I’ve been mulling over all day and stand, stretching. I hate this part about owning my own business; the numbers keep me from being creative, from working with my hands. The cuts and calluses are the rewards of a florist. I love the sweat on my brows after putting together an impressively large centerpiece. I love the matching of colors and scents. I can spend all day on a bed of sweet-smelling roses, and that’ll be a good day. My flowers brighten up someone’s day, turn a frown upside down. My flowers save a marriage, stop the flow of tears, and bring comfort. It’s why I do what I do, to evoke emotion, and in the process, the world is given a piece of my soul.
I own a small flower shop in downtown Seattle with my one assistant, Carl, a flamboyant clairvoyant who spends most of his days creating masterpieces and predicting the futures of our clients. He crafts each piece with a client in mind, and the odd thing about it is that nine times out of ten, it is what the client wants. He believes in the future, and I am the skeptic who has no idea what mine holds. But he’s so much more than an employee; he’s my best friend, the only person who gets me. He keeps me grounded in a world that is often chaotic and uncertain.
‘I’m off, Carl,” I shout as I exit the stuffy office. The scents of geranium, plumeria, and ylang-ylang assault my nostrils. I close my eyes and breathe it in. It’s comforting; I want to take its scent with me wherever I go.
“I have something for you.” He grins and reaches under his workspace, pulling out a tiny bouquet of garden roses and ranunculus. I smile and shake my head, walking over to him and pulling him into a hug before taking my little gift, which was thoughtfully put together.
“Thank you; I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Well, you never have to find out, babe.”
“You have to arrive at seven; not a minute later,” I warn him.
He places a kiss on my cheeks. “I swear. But you got this! Look, he knows you’re not interested in him like that.”
I sigh. Did I really? I feel like my life is falling apart at the seams, all because I couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. And to top it all, I have an ex who looks at me like I’m the answer to all life’s questions.
“Tell me again why I do this.”
“Because it’s the best thing for everyone concerned.” He kisses my forehead, and I close my eyes.
Be calm, Hayley.
I take my coat off its hanger, sling my bag over my shoulder, and leave the shop with a final wave at Carl.
He is right. I can do this. I can do anything. I am Hayley Wells, and I have my life on track.
* * *
At precisely seven p.m.,my doorbell rings. I look at myself once more in the mirror. My hair is swept up in a twist, and in jeans and a turtleneck top, I look relaxed.
“Chill,” I say to the woman in the mirror.
I open up to find Logan at the door. He’s early. God, Carl should have been here already. It’s not that I don’t like Logan’s company; it’s just gotten awkward with Logan lately.
“Mommy, is it Carl?
“Daddy!” London bolts forward, and Logan captures her in his arms, giving her a swing.
“Hey, Princess.” He gives her a loud kiss on the cheek. “How’s my girl?”
“I’m all right. Oh. my. God. I have so much to tell you!” she starts. My daughter can be overly dramatic at times. At seven years old, she is a bit too boisterous and too smart for me to keep up with. She also talks non-stop and asks a lot of questions. Still, I wouldn’t want it any other way. She gives my life meaning, makes my world that much brighter.
“Hey Lo,” I say with a small wave.
He bends and plants a kiss on my cheek. It’s friendly, but there are always hidden meanings to anything Logan Wiley does. “Hey, beautiful.”
I flutter my lids. “Who me?”
He laughs, and I pat his shoulder. “Go on in.”
“So, Ethan said he didn’t want to be friends anymore. But it's fine; I don’t like him that much anyway . . .” London dives right in it, and I appreciate the distraction. She rambles on, and Logan grins at her, lost in conversation.
