Page 93 of You've Got The Love
My throat tightens, but I nod. “Okay. Come to the shop. But no more surprise proposals in front of my coworkers.”
His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but he just nods. “Understood.”
At‘Wild Ones’,the day unfolds like any other on the surface.
Jess is perched on the counter with a pair of shears, her bubblegum-pink hair sticking up in every direction. “You’re late,” she teases. “I almost had to start taking sympathy orders for the poor florist abandoned at the altar of roses.”
I roll my eyes. “I was not abandoned. And Bas was making pancakes.”
Jess’s eyebrows shoot up. “Pancakes?Girl, that’s some next-level grovelling.”
Andrea leans out from the back room, grinning. “I saw him carry a toolbox in, too. Pancakes and manual labour?Hotchman’splaying the long game.”
I try to hide my smile as I arrange tulips in a tall vase. “He’s… trying.”
Jess tilts her head, softer now. “And how’s your heart?”
The question lodges in my chest. I glance toward the back, where Bas is crouched under the sink, muttering in Dutch at the pipes. Abel sits nearby on the floor, holding a tiny screwdriver like it’s a magic wand.
“He’s here,” I say finally. “And that’s… positive.”
Jess hops off the counter and wraps an arm around me. “I’m rooting for you, boss. But don’t you let that man off the hook too easily.”
“Oh, I won’t,” I say, managing a wry smile.
The rest of the day is… almost normal. Customers come and go, the shop smells like freesia and soil, and Abel charms every single person who walks through the door. Bas only appears at the front when he needs a new tool or when Abel insists on showing him something he “helped” with.
By the time we close, my cheeks ache from smiling—not the fake, polite kind, but the small, real ones that sneak up when your heart starts to thaw.
Bas carries Abel to the van, his big hand enveloping mine briefly before he lets go.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks.
“Tomorrow,” I confirm, my voice steady.
He hesitates like he wants to kiss me, but instead, he just squeezes my hand once before climbing into the driver’s seat.
I watch the van disappear into the twilight, my hand still tingling where his touched mine.
For the first time since the nightmare started, I let myself imagine a future that isn’t just survival. A future with him. With Abel. With the little life growing inside me.
Chapter 49
Amber
The morning sun filters through the big front windows of‘Wild Ones’, casting a soft glow over the blooms and the worn wooden floorboards. Light pools on buckets of ranunculus and spills warm across the battered counter where Jess has arranged a chaotic rainbow of ribbon spools—our perfectly imperfect kingdom. The shop hums in that way it does when a day decides to be kind: the cooler’s hush, the steady beep of the till, the door chiming every so often with someone who needs flowers for joy, apology, hope.
Today feels different—lighter somehow. Maybe it’s the way Bas brought Abel over early, both of them with hair damp from the mist and cheeks pink from the cold. Perhaps it’s the way my body woke this morning without panic already burning under my skin. Maybe it’s the tiny pulse of certainty in my chest I can’t quite name.
Bas is in the back room, elbow-deep in soil, potting with an intensity that would be intimidating if it weren’t also endearing. He’s large everywhere—hands, shoulders, presence—but the way he coaxes roots apart is almost delicate. Abel sits cross-legged on the floor beside him, surrounded by a fortress of tiny pots and blunt tools he’s declared his “work zone,” a paper crown (courtesy of Jess and a leftover ribbon spool) listing sideways on his knit hat.
“Hey, boss,” Jess calls from the counter, peering past a spray of eucalyptus to where Bas is wrestling an overgrown fern into a pot that is objectively too small. “You sure that’s how you want to handle that, B-man?”
Bas glances up, caught, and offers a sheepish grin. “I’m learning from the best.”
Jess slides me a look like,well, obviously, then points both thumbs at herself. “You mean from me.”
I snort, warmth gathering at the corners of my mouth. Bas huffs a quiet laugh and crouches to Abel’s level. “Come on, little man. Show me how you do it.”
