Page 133 of Pucked Up Plans
“Sure. The ones you’re already putting together.” Then I remember they wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow. “I have to wait until tomorrow to tell her? No way. I need to tell her today.” I can’t help the whine in my voice, but I also can’t let her go another second without knowing the truth. And I’ve already wasted precious minutes debating with Jenny.
“I’ll have them in the morning by like seven a.m. What time can you stop by and grab them?”
“Noon,” I state, thinking about tomorrow’s agenda. “And the girls have their long day at school.” A plan forms in my mind. I could show up with lunch. She might be working, but surely she needs a lunch break, right? “Noon,” I repeat, more certainly.
“And now he gets it.”
All the while we’ve talked, her fingers have been creating the small bouquet Lennon requested. “Wait. What do I do about this?” I point at her hands.
Jenny studies Lennon with a smug smile. “Lennon, when do you want to give Tate the flowers?”
“Today.”
“Great. You can bring them to her when Daddy can drive you there.”
I’m thoroughly confused. Running my fingers through my hair, I declare, “But you just said…”
“Lennon has nothing to fix with Tate. Hers can go today.”
I roll my eyes at her use of having to “fix” things with Tate. It makes it seem like I did something intentionally to hurt her. Ididn’t. All I did was fall for her. And honestly, I hope I never have tofixthat.
“Fine.” I huff out a breath. “I can wait until tomorrow at noon.”
Jenny pats my shoulder, mocking my good choice to accept my fate. “Great, we’ll just finish this up, and you guys can be on your way to Tate’s.” Her attention on my daughter, she continues, “She’s going to love these even more because you picked them out.”
“I love Tate.”
Lennon’s words momentarily paralyze me. It’s the simple way she declares it affecting me most. While I was busy falling in love with her, I missed how Lennon was as well. All the more reason to be fucking grateful the test wasn’t a match.
“I bet she loves you too.” The wistfulness in Jenny’s tone adds to my relief. “Okay, all set.” She hands Lennon a card. “Why don’t you write her a message so she knows who they’re from?”
Lennon eagerly accepts the pen and sets to work. Heaven knows what she’ll write. She’s good with her name, but the rest of the letters are quite a hindrance. Though with Aubrey, Tate can hopefully decipher whatever message the lines and marks conveys.
“She’s a sweetie,” Jenny muses, a motion of her head to Lennon.
I guffaw. “Not the first word I’d use, but she has her moments. She saves her love for special people.”
“Tate’s a lucky woman.” She goes back behind the counter while Lennon finishes her card. “And she’s quite smitten with you.”
“How could you possibly know? You met her once and discussed flowers.” Or did my name come up? The possibility both thrills me and makes me nervous. Maybe not so muchnervousas apprehensive.
“When you’ve been in this business as long as I have, you learn a thing or two. Have I ever steered you wrong?” She winks at me.
“Never,” I confirm. Tate has loved every single arrangement Jenny suggested. It helps she loves flowers and maybe she wouldn’t turn any down, but she’s gushed prolifically about the specific ones I’ve had delivered. Deciding to give Jenny the benefit of the doubt, I smile. “Thanks, Jenny. You’ve been such a godsend the past few weeks.”
“That sounds an awful lot like you won’t be needing my services in the future.” A small frown graces her lips.
I quickly remedy my mistake. “I might as well surrender my credit card now for all future purchases. And not just for Tate.” There’s Aubrey to consider. And Lennon’s feelings are changing. Laughing, I amend, “Pretty sure I’ll be keeping you in business foryearsto come.”
Without another word, Jenny wraps up the small bouquet and hands it over to Lennon with a smile. She refuses any payment, proving yet again how valuable she is in my life.
We say goodbye, my girl preciously cradling the bouquet one would a newborn baby. In the truck, she insists we go right to Tate’s house to drop them off.
Who am I to argue?
CHAPTER 31
TATE
