Page 30 of Damaged
“Come on, just that one,” I say, laughing.
“Damn. Only because you’re doing this for me.” She pulls the card out and clears her throat, making it more dramatic. “Mary, you’re the love of my life. Thank you for making my heart whole. Happy Anniversary.”
“I have no words,” I say laughing. “Do you believe it all that?”
“Do I believe in love?”
“Yeah,” I say, peeking over at her.
“I believe some people are meant to be together,” she says.
“Okay, but you don’t believe in love?” I hate even talking about love, so I have no idea why I am pushing her to answer.
“I guess I’d need to find it to see,” she replies. It’s a good answer. A fucking great answer, but I can’t form the words to tell her that. Which is definitely for the best.
We drive around making the deliveries and I figure it’s a good time to get to know her details.
“What made you want to be a florist?” I ask, turning onto the next street for a delivery.
“My dad,” she whispers, touching a pink flower petal. “He died when I was a kid of cancer. When my mom and I would visit the cemetery, I always hated the flowers there. They were nothing special. They didn’t do justice to the person they were placed there for. So, I decided I would change that. I would make huge bouquets, all different and special in their own way. That way even if it wasn’t a special order, they could just pick one out of the fridge and it would still be special.”
Damn. I had no idea her father died, and I’ve known her a long time. I guess I just never got to know her. “I’m sorry about your dad,” I say, squeezing her knee as I park in front of the next delivery.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”
Christ, she knows what it’s like. She knows how bad it hurts losing someone. I hate that she knows that kind of pain. That’s she’s even had a minute of sadness in her life.
“One more and we’re done,” she says, hopping in the truck.
“Eva. You know you’re a lot like me and that’s not a good thing,” I say, laughing.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she angrily asks.
“You avoid talking about things. You change the subject, make a joke or start a fight. That’s exactly what I do. If you don’t want to talk about your dad, I get that, just tell me that.”
“So, I should tell you things like that, but you don’t need to tell me? You’ll continue changing the subject, making jokes or starting fights, right?” she asks.
Pulling up to the last house, I throw the truck in park, turning to her. “You want to know something, ask and I’ll tell you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Go make the delivery and come back with your questions,” I say, nodding to the door.
The last delivery is made and I pull away from the house, but I’m not going back to her shop. Not yet. We’re going to drive around and talk.
“Okay, what’s your question?” I ask.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?”
Christ, this is how she wants to start? It can’t be what kind of dog did I have as a kid. “I have, by a lot of people, but never a woman.”
“Is that why you don’t date?”
Really getting personal. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t date. Anyone I’ve ever cared about has left me, so there’s no point. What about you, ever had your heart broken?”
“More than I’d like to admit. And not everyone you care about has left you. I’m still here and so is Asher. So tell me about your family,” she says.
Glancing at her, I smile. “Yeah, you’re still here.” I blow out a breath before I continue. “I have no family. No idea where my parents are, they were too busy getting high when my grandparents took me away. My grandparents are dead. No siblings, no aunts, uncles or cousins. It’s just me. What about your family?”
