Page 21 of Almost Always

“No harm in asking. Get it done today. If that falls through, we have only a week to find someone else.”

Another person added, “The construction crew might be a few members short.”

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath and rubbed his face. “See how many people they can spare and I’ll talk to Henderson about getting a few of his guys. Any of you want to work with cement for a month?”

There were a few murmurs and hands shot up in one of the boxes. His team were fucking talented and would always step up to the plate, but he didn’t like taking them for granted just because they had the skills. That’s why they hired professional teams to do the big work while they handled everything else.

When the silence stretched on, he tilted his head and frowned. “What?”

“Any chance of you coming into the city in a few weeks? This new client is…particular.” One of the senior guys he’d put in charge when he left.

“Maybe. When is it?”

“Three weekends from now. Sheinsistedon speaking to the boss and didn’t want to deal with us.”

He chuckled and shook his head. Very often they’d work with an über rich client who expected things to happen the way they wanted by snapping their fingers. He was surprised by how much patience he had when dealing with them. This lady sounded like she would make him want to bash his own head in. It was his least favorite part about New York clients, but they did bring in all the money at the end of the day.

“Send me her details and requirements. I’ll get back to you in a few days.”

“Great. Also, we found a new flower supplier out of Jersey. Can I schedule a call between the three of us next week?”

The mention offlowersreminded him that he’d been interrupted in the middle of calling Daisy hours ago. He glanced at his phone and saw that he had enough time to visit her flower shop and pick up Cal from school.

“Yeah, yeah. That sounds good. Send me a reminder the day before.” He peered into the boxes on his screen and nodded. “All right, if there’s nothing else, I need to head out. I’ll have the updated design sent over tonight.”

He didn’t give anybody a chance to protest before he logged off. Not bothering to change, Rafferty followed the instructions to the flower shop. With his sunglasses hooked into the front of his T-shirt, he walked inside and inhaled deeply. Soft music filtered through the space, staff in matching aprons were helping customers and every surface and corner he could see was filled with plants and brightly colored flowers. He smiled as he did a slow spin, taking in how incredible the shop was. If his nonna was still alive, she’d be so proud of what Daisy had been able to do.

“Welcome to The Patch, are you looking for anything in particular?”

He turned to face the blond with a name tag that readRipley. “I was actually hoping to see Daisy.”

“She’s at an event right now, but should be back soon.”

“Can I wait until she gets here?”

Ripley nodded and gestured to a long high table to the side. “Can I get you anything, water, coffee?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

He turned to the table and saw a hand-painted sign hanging from the ceiling that readFlower Station.He smiled as he took in the baskets hanging over the sides with scissors, ribbons and other bits of stationery. He was certain that if he brought Callahan to the shop, his son would make this place his home.

He didn’t know how long he’d been waiting, but when he heard her voice, Rafferty straightened up. She had a face full of makeup, her dark hair was in a thick braid and over her left shoulder, she wore a green tee and jeans, the look completed with a light gray apron. She was gesturing and talking, gardening gloves in one hand and a small bunch of flowers in the other. He saw Ripley sidle up to her and smiled when she turned to face him.

“Hero.”

CHAPTER 8

In the days since their ice cream shop run-in, she hadn’t heard from Rafferty and the radio silence was killing her. Overthinking was a full-time job and her mind had wandered every minute she was free. Her anxiety spiked to new levels, making her think the worst of the situation. She’d had this with Clarke too, wondering if they were actually too busy to return a call or if they were cheating on her. She’d never voiced these concerns, even when it was evident on her face when Clarke would get home from work. She’d never been able to hide how her anxiety made her feel.

Did I write down the wrong number? Oh god, maybe I did that and now he can’t get in touch with me. Or maybe he realized that he doesn’t want to.

She should have asked whether he had someone waiting at home before sliding her number across the table. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t called, he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. She did her best to stay distracted, attending back-to-back meetings and visiting with her distributor about new stock; but her mind drifted back to Rafferty constantly.

Living with anxiety was hard, even when it was treated and her therapist had given her multiple exercises to prevent apanic attack. She did the best she could every single day, but in situations like this she was flustered. Since her divorce she’d gotten good at hiding her tells from the people in her life and she hadn’t had a meltdown since she started the flower shop.

There’s a first time for everything.

Thankfully distraction came in the form of her friends—the Snap, Crackle and Pop chat was one of the things entertaining her. It had been created a few weeks ago and included Ginny Thomas, of Wildes Events & Weddings, and Clementine Kinney, baker extraordinaire and owner of Pretty Baked. It was mostly a conversation between Ginny and Daisy with Clementine contributing once a day, if they were lucky.

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