Page 6 of The Floral Arrangement

I sat on the toilet seat, my mind racing. This evening was going better than my wildest dreams. Roz was perfect: attractive, older, more experienced, and only available for a one-night stand. I’d have a single, hopefully mind-blowing night with her, and then she’d go back to Manhattan. My worries about whether it was ethical to try to meet people to work out my sexuality didn’t apply here. There was no risk of leading anyone on or having them feel like I was “using them” with a mutually agreed upon one-night stand. In the—now admittedly unlikely—event I reached the conclusion I was straight after all, no feelings would be hurt. And if I was terrible in bed, I’d never have to see her again.

I exited the stall and washed my hands. Staring at my brown eyes in the mirror, I took a deep breath. “You can do this.”

I skipped back out to the bar then stopped.

My coat still hung where I’d left it, but Roz, her phone, and her jacket were nowhere to be seen.

I frowned. We hadn’t spoken about how we’d get to my place. Perhaps she’d just gone to get some things out of her car so I could drive us to my apartment and then drop her back here tomorrow.

At the bar, I looked around for Brenda, but she had disappeared. In her place was a brunette drying glasses.

“Excuse me, have you seen a tall woman with short blond hair, wearing a t-shirt that saysI wet my plants,by any chance?”

The woman chuckled. “No, sorry. I definitely would’ve remembered that t-shirt if I’d seen it.”

“Thanks. Could I get a Diet Coke?” With a tightness in my chest, I slid onto my bar stool to wait.

Each time the door to the bar opened, my head shot up. With every stranger that came through, I deflated more. Had I completely misunderstood the situation? I didn’t see how I could have. Roz had very clearly proposed a one-night stand. So why had she left without a word? If she’d changed her mind, she could have at least had the decency to tell me. My grip tightened around my glass.

After another ten minutes, I stood and gathered my belongings.

Roz had vanished. And she’d stolen my t-shirt.

CHAPTERTWO

OLIVIA

SIX MONTHS LATER

I stepped backfrom the colorful window display, admiring the arrangement of tulips, crocuses and hyacinths and inhaled a deep breath of sweetly scented air. Warmth rushed over my body. Sometimes I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to spend my days surrounded by gorgeous flowers and earn enough from it that I didn’t need to worry where my next rent payment for the shop and my apartment above it was coming from. It had taken a lot of time, effort, and heartbreak along the way to get to this point, but it had all been worth it.

My phone buzzed in my apron pocket, and I pulled it out. Jenny.

I answered, smiling, as I walked back to the storage room to retrieve some more greenery for the display.

“Hello! How did the wedding go on Saturday?”

“It was great, and the flowers were a hit. I had tons of guests ask about them.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” I beamed. The bride had been skeptical when I explained that, because I only stocked locally and sustainably grown flowers, we couldn’t provide the Vendela roses she wanted, as they would need to be flown in from Ecuador or Colombia. But she’d seemed happy enough when I’d shown her what I could provide—ranunculus, anemones, and hyacinths grown at Red Tractor Farm, along with gorgeous dried flowers.

“I’ve got another couple who are interested in dropping by to talk to you about flowers for their wedding. Will you be around Friday afternoon?”

“I’m free any time after one.” I paused to grab my planner and a pen from my workbench and wrote a reminder to myself.

It was serendipitous that my sister Blake’s wife, Jenny, had become an event planner after she’d moved back to Sapphire Springs and that we got on so well. It was probably time I started giving her a commission for all the extra business she sent my way. Holding the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I continued to the back of the store. I pushed open the door to the storage room, cool air sending goosebumps down my arms, and plucked out five sprigs of fern.

“Great. They’ve booked Prue’s vineyard for the venue. I’ll email you their initial thoughts about color schemes. Oh, and by the way, Yuri and Mike were at the wedding on Saturday, and Yuri is pregnant!”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” I said, exiting the storage room and closing the door firmly behind me. “I’ve been wondering how they were doing and hoping we’d hear some good news.”

“Me too.”

The reminder of Yuri and Mike’s flower-planning session tugged at my chest. They’d received the news right here, at the counter just in front of me, that their latest round of IVF had been unsuccessful. Yuri’s face had crumpled, Mike enveloping her in a bear hug as he wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Jenny said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Are you still coming Thursday night?”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it! See you then.” I hung up and walked back toward the window display, clutching the ferns. Yuri and Mike had started trying before their wedding date due to Yuri’s “advanced maternal age.” She was only thirty-six.

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