Page 54 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

There's a gnawing sensation in the back of my skull that warns me Dez is biding his time. He's confident he has me under his thumb. He's not wrong. I can run, but eventually, he'll catch me.

Panting heavily, I dart around a skinny tree. Drooping branches covered in red flowers graze my temples as I pass. Brushing greenery from my hair, I peer behind me anxiously.Did they see me? Are they coming this way?I'm not looking where I'm going; my sandal catches something rigid, sending me tripping.

At the last second, I catch myself. Exhaling, I look at what I'm grabbing. The stone under my palms is chalky-white on top from sun-bleaching. There's a name carved into it, the edges cracked by weathering.

It's a gravestone. Lifting my hands away, I look around, realizing this isn't a park. I'm in a tiny cemetery. The grass is maintained but the trees are left to grow in every direction. I'm closed off in a forgotten sanctuary. There are no paths between stones, no fence encircles the area, not even signage. The atmosphere is eerie.

A few finches chirp overhead and dart in a burst of yellow feathers towards the warped oak tree across the way. A car honks twice in the store parking lot. Flinching, I hurry forward through the rows of graves.Get to the other side, then you can circle back around to the parking lot to get your car.Absolute worst case, I'd jog to the beach to meet up with Cadence.

I squat behind a rectangular stone with a polished surface glinting in the sun. Crouching, I calm myself down, but the position is making my legs cramp. When I set my knee onto the plot, I gasp at the burst of pain, like something stung me. Pulling myself up, I brush at my leg, expecting to find a bee or a shard of glass.

It's neither.

Reaching down, I run my fingers gingerly across the long stems splayed at the base of the grave. They're wrapped in a piece of ribbon the same color as the sky, the end of it tied neatly to a stake punched deep into the ground. That's the only reason the long dead flowers didn't blow away in the island's strong gusts of wind.

With my pulse racing higher by the second, I move my hand up to the wilted petals that burst from the tips of the stalks. They look like dead jellyfish. Over two weeks ago they were gorgeous white roses. I've seen them before. I know it in my bones.

These are the flowers I sold to Jordan.

Chapter 20

Thebirdschirpandflit by again. I ignore them this time.Whose grave is this?I wonder. The stone is half my height, the name big and bold. Because Dezmond Hartford is on my mind, I read the name etched in the stone as his. My heart rate dances over my tongue in morbid shock. But of course, it's not his name.

The letters carved into the gravestone don't spell Dezmond, but Deena.Deena Hartford.There's more writing beneath it.

Love will never stop growing here.

1969-2007

Frowning lightly, I trace my fingers over the inscription. The dark slate is so smooth it acts like a mirror, feeding back my reflection to me, like I'm reaching for someone drowning in a black lake.Is she Dezmond's mother?This woman died seven years ago. He would have been a teenager.

My mind is reeling with this information when my phone rings. Choking on surprise, I fumble for my phone answer. I'm scanning side to side anxiously, afraid Dezmond and his pals heard the sound and are about to pop out from behind a gravestone.

“Hey babe,” Dezmond chuckles in the speaker. "Long time no chat."

A jab of unease straightens my spine. “Dez?”Guess he got my number after all.

“Wasn't sure you'd be awake.”

I don’t tell him I’ve been up the last three hours. “What do you want?”

“You really sound pissed. Not a good vibe for my future wife.”

Bristling, I grip my phone until my hand hurts. “Just tell me why you're calling.” Then, with another nervous glance, I add, “Where are you?”

“Heading into downtown, going over the bridge now.”

Thank god. I can go get my car.

He asks, “What about you? Home or your shop?”

With the distance between us my words come out breezily. “Home."

“That's perfect.”

“Why?” I ask in a wary voice.

“You'll have time to put something cute on before going to the courthouse with me.”

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