Page 14 of Finlay

I imagined a lot of florists gave the spiel of wanting to understand the person they were celebrating, but did any of them go to the lengths that Chester did?

I doubted it.

What was more, he didn’t rush me. There were half-finished projects on the counters, but he didn’t seem worried. Even when the phone rang, he ignored it, gesturing for me to continue. “Don’t worry. That’s what the machine’s for.”

His level of care touched something in me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t experience this in my daily life—of course I did. I was fucking lucky to have the people around me that I did. Calan, Logan, Evan, all of them cared about me. So did a large portion of the clan, even if that care was because I was their leader.

But this was different. It was different because, for the first time, I was being open about Sarah. About Maria. What they’d meant to me. What had made them so special and so worthy of love.

And Chester was listening to it all. Taking copious notes. He’d put his work on pause to take the time with me. To make sure it was perfect.

What was more, I suspected he’d do the same with anyof his customers. That was probably why he had so many arrangements to make. Why the phone was now ringing off the hook.

“Okay, I’m thinking lots of yellow for Maria, for her blanket.” He bit his lip as he flipped to a new page, sketching something out. “And birds of paradise, of course.”

My brow furrowed. “Actual birds?”

Chester startled, like he’d forgotten I was there for a moment. “Oh, no. They’re flowers that look like birds. Hummingbirds, to be exact. Not quite the robins you said Maria liked to watch, but close. Unless you hate the idea? I can go in a different direction.”

His concerned face was blurred, my vision suddenly clouded. “No, don’t. I love it. It’s perfect.”

“They symbolise eternal life,” Chester said quietly, his gaze steady. “I’m not particularly religious, but with those I’ve lost, I like to think they’re still out there. Somewhere.”

The pain was so sudden it was like a knife to the gut. There was no afterlife for supes. Heaven and Hell were reserved for human souls.

I couldn’t say that to Chester. Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to smile. “Birds of paradise sound great. Thank you.”

The pity on Chester’s face told me I’d missed the mark with my smile, but being the professional he was, he didn’t mention it.

I was quiet while Chester outlined his other ideas, mutely nodding along with whatever he suggested. Speaking was too much right now. Doing this was the right thing, but it had ripped the scab off the wound. It was fresh once more, blood pooling around the edges. I needed to get somewhere where I could tend to it. Where I could patch it and let it heal over again.

Hopefully, the arrangements Chester was planning would help with that.

“I’m sorry,” Chester said suddenly. “I feel like I’ve made this harder than it should’ve been.”

I dragged my gaze up from my clasped hands to find him hunched in on himself. His blue eyes were shining with sympathy and remorse. I didn’t understand why though—it wasn’t his fault that I was grieving.

“Ye don’t need to apologise for doing your job,” I said firmly, but not unkindly. “I didn’t walk in here expecting this to be easy, Chester. If anything, you’ve made this a million times better than I thought it would be.”

“Good.” Chester offered me a brittle smile. “I think I’ve got everything I need now. Let me just get your contact details and then I can send you a sketch when I’ve got it finalised.”

After giving him my contact information, I smiled wryly. In a parallel world, maybe there was a different version of Chester and me. One where I met him in a neutral place. Where I didn’t flay my broken heart wide open for him to see during our first meeting. One where he was amenable to the advances I wanted to make. A universe where I gave him my number for a different reason entirely.

But we weren’t there. We were here. It didn’t matter that he was the first person I’d been attracted to in decades. Or that he’d made me laugh. Or that I was desperate to learn just what made him tick.

And what made his hands shake occasionally. What made his shoulders draw in. Who had made that happen.

None of it mattered. In a week, when I collected the flowers, our acquaintance would be at an end.

It shouldn’t have bothered me like it did.

It was only after I’d bid him goodbye and was drivingback to the heart of the clan lands that something hit me. I’d been combing back through our conversation, when I picked up on a detail I’d missed.

Those I’ve lost.

Chester had lost people too.

Fuck.

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