Page 30 of Make Me Yours
Monday mornings atBloom & Vineusually carried a quiet hum, but today, it felt thin—like my coolers, buckets half-empty, and stems slumped as if they’d given up. My regular wholesaler wouldn’t release another shipment until last week’s invoice cleared, and I was worn out from juggling.
With a sigh, I brushed a stray petal offthe counter andreached for the office phone, deciding then and there to try the new supplier who promised next-day delivery and was happy to take a credit card.
But today wasn’t only about flowers. I’d promised myself—and Sawyer—that I’d stop putting this off. My hand hovered over the receiver, my pulse ticking like I was about to do something reckless, when really I was trying to keep my life in order.
I dialedDr. Hall’s office, fully expecting to be toldthe next availableappointment would be a few weeks away. I already had my polite brush-off rehearsed in case they tried to stick me with a month-long wait.
Instead, the receptionist chirped,“We actually had a cancellation this morning. Eleven o’clock. Would you like to take it?”
I just sat there for a second, the phone warm against my ear, my mind scrambling for excuses—the shop, Sunny, timing. But the word came out before I could stop it.“Yes. I’ll take it.”
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
As soon asI hung up, I pressed both palms tothe counter andlet out a shaky breath. This was it. One small, sensible step. I couldn't keep dancing around our intimate relationship if I wanted things with Sawyer to keep moving forward. I needed to be ready.
Still, nerves clawed at me. I fumbled for my cell phone and tapped Emma’s number, silently begging she’d be free. On Mondays, the Historical Society stayed closed, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have plans.
“Of course I can cover,”Emma said, her voice cheerful through the line.“What’s going on? You feeling sick again?”
I dodged the question with a laugh.“Nope. Just need to step out for a bit. Won’t be long.”
WhenI ended the call, relief swept through me, lighter than I’d felt in days. Between the roses, the finances, and the doctor’s unexpected cancellation, it almost felt like the universe was nudging me forward.
Almost.
Not long after, Emma breezed in like she owned the place, a gust of cool air trailing her and her usual grin firmly in place. She set her purse in the office and looked me over with narrowed eyes.
“You sick again?”she asked, half-concerned, half-teasing.
I laughed, maybe a little too quickly.“No. Nothing like that.”
The truth sat sharp on my tongue, but I swallowed it down. Explaining felt too personal, too revealing.This wasn’taboutbeing sick. It wasn’t even about fear. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. This wasabout being prepared, about planning ahead, about not letting my life trip me up the way it had before.
Emma didn’t press, which I was grateful for. Instead, she slippedbehind the designing tablelike she’d been working here for years, already fussing with the ribbon spools I’d left in a crooked line.
SoonI was drivingacross town, my stomach tying itself into neat little knots, and by the time I walked through the sliding glass doors ofDr. Hall’s office, my palms were damp.
The waiting room looked the same as it always had—plastic chairs lined up like mismatched teeth, the faint hum of the vending machine in the corner, outdated magazines stacked on a side table. I signed in, took the clipboard, and updated my information with a shaky hand.
After I submitted my paperwork, I sank into a rigid chair, my body stiffening against its unyielding surface. My gaze wandered around the waiting room—a mother juggled a fidgety toddler while a weary teacher, a familiar customer, flipped through a magazine. The world outside continued its steady rhythm, filled with the ordinary chatter of life, while I sat there, desperately trying to maskthe weight ofwhat felt like a pivotal moment in my future.
Ithought about Sawyerinstead. About how his hand steadied me when we rode to the lake. The taste of his kiss when the world felt wide open, full of promise. The picnic, the way he’d looked at me like maybe I was more than just a florist in a small town.
But the memory soured at the edges when another thought pushed in—the calendar page I’d flipped over a few days ago.
The empty square where my period should have been.
I pressed my palms into my lap, shaking my head slightly. It was nothing. Just one missed cycle. Stress, probably. Not two. Not a pattern.
Just one.
My mind kept wanting to run down roads I didn’t need to travel, but I pulled it back and reminded myself.This wasn’t aboutpanic. It wasn’t about fear. This wasabout being preparedto take controlfor once, instead of letting life make the decisions for me.
I held on to that thought like a lifeline, even as the minutes dragged into nearly an hour.
Finally, the receptionist came out frombehind her glass partition, her apologetic smile already telling me everything.“I’m so sorry, Lilly. Dr. Hall was called to the hospital to deliver a baby. We don’t know how long he’ll be gone. Do you want to wait, or would you like to reschedule?”
The ball in my stomach released into disappointment.“I’ll reschedule,”I said quickly. Emma was covering the shop, but I couldn’t leave her stranded all afternoon.“Just…give methe next available.”
