Page 6 of Flirting with Forever

And then there was nothing but echoing silence in the wake of Estrella’s departure. John blinked at Mary. Mary blinked at John.

“Well,” Mary said, gesturing around her with the flowers she just now realized were still in her hands. “This is my shop. You’re welcome to take a look around. Let me know if you have any questions.”

Mary felt his eyes on her as she turned back to the window display and started messing around with the bouquets she’d already put together. They’d been bright and haphazard and happy only moments before, but suddenly they looked messy and lazy to her. Maybe she should start over.

She could tell that John hadn’t moved from where he stood in her front entryway, and she could still feel his eyes on her back.

“Mary,” he said a moment later in that double-layered voice of his. How had she not noticed his voice the other night? It was so distinct. “My mother and I weren’t eating lunch around the corner.”

Mary instantly decided that each vase of flowers was utter, cheery perfection exactly as they were. Screwing with them too much was bound to wring the magic out of them, like water from a sponge. She picked up an armful of the jars and began to set them around the shop. The rest she’d arrange in the window. “Oh?”

John cleared his throat. “She told me that the two of you talked about our, uh, date.”

Mary whirled and was lucky that none of those jars actually had water in them because she would have been soaked down to her toes if they had. “I didn’t rat you out or anything. I just told her that—”

“That you didn’t have a good time. I know. It’s fine, Mary. You were honest with her. And she showed up at my house last night, spitting mad, because she says that Mary Trace always has a good time, no matter what she’s doing, and if she didn’t have a good time, then it must be my fault. And if it’s my fault, then I owe you an apology.” John traced his wide hands outward, palms up. “So, here I am.”

Mary frowned. “Your mother dragged you to my shop to apologize to me?”

He grimaced, and for just a flash, that surly face had the grace to look a tiny bit chagrined. “I came willingly.”

“She had you by the elbow when you came in here,” Mary said, arching an eyebrow.

His mouth turned down. “I wanted to wait outside the shop while you had another customer. My mother didn’t have any qualms about that.”

Mary blushed, embarrassed all over again about James the married man. “Right.”

John glanced out through her front window, his eyebrows furrowed down, though not as aggressively as she knew he was capable of. His hands were pushed into his pockets.

“Look, Mary. You were more right than my mother is. I’m not a nice boy. Although at thirty-one, I like to think I’ve graduated from not a niceboyto not a niceman.”

She cocked her head to one side as she studied him. He seemed older than thirty-one. His dark, neatly parted hair was so shiny that she realized it gave the illusion of silver, but it was actually just a full head of black hair. And the lines around his eyes were more likely from fatigue than they were from age.

He cleared his throat, those bright blue eyes stuck on her face. “I’m busy and grumpy and preoccupied and...rude. But none of that is an excuse for making you feel bad. So, I apologize. Really, I do. I’m sorry, Mary. I’m sorry for the mess I made of the other night. And I’m sorry I was rude.”

Oh. That was actually a good apology. None of that fast-dancing, zero-vulnerability, I’m-sorry-if-your-feelings-were-hurt-by-my-actions crap. That was a real apology. He’d admitted he was rude.

He stood, without moving, in the same spot. His hands were in his pockets, his eyes on hers, his mouth frowning, his eyebrows pushed down and mean.

“Well,” Mary said as she stamped her foot. “It might be easier to forgive you if you hadn’t just seen me strike out like that.”

John smirked, a grunt coming out of him that might have passed for a laugh in another dimension. “Yeah. That was...hard to watch.”

Mary glowered at him. “It’s not my fault he was married.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“And honestly, I consider it a win that I didn’t find out he was marriedafterI’d gone on a date with him. I can’t tell you how many times that has happened to me.” She turned and continued to set the vases around her shop, positioning them this way and that until they were perfect. “Apology accepted, by the way.”

“Oh. Good.”

The bell to the shop jingled and in walked Estrella. She and her son exchanged eye contact, communicating silently, and Mary gathered that John was forgiven in his mother’s eyes.

“Estrella, I’m glad you’re back. I wasn’t sure how to display the pots you brought over yesterday.”

Estrella was one of the artisans that Mary featured in her shop, which was how they’d first become friends a few years ago. The woman was a true creative. She’d started out with these intricately embroidered throw pillows that had immediately triggered Mary’s drool reflex the moment she’d first seen them. From there, Estrella had started into her tapestries phase, which rolled into the stained-glass windows phase, and now they were here, with these lovely pots that Estrella threw in a ceramics studio and glazed to perfection. Mary couldn’t have loved them more. And she couldn’t have loved Estrella more either.

The woman, unlike some of Mary’s other artisans, was even-tempered and realistic. If Mary couldn’t sell some of her pieces, Estrella traded them out, her pride uninjured. Mary deeply valued their professional relationship, but nowhere near as much as their personal one. It was almost once a week that Estrella stopped by for a lunch with Mary or just a quick chat. It was a miracle that she’d known Mary for so long before she’d tried to set her up with John. Mary had been weighted down with a full-body dread to tell Estrella that it hadn’t worked out between them. She didn’t want anything to damage her relationship with her friend. Apparently, though, it hadn’t caused too much damage, considering that Estrella was smiling as she marched across the floor and gave Mary a little side-hug.

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