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I stand in the doorway as Pete and Alyssa walk over to sit on the ottoman in front of the chair.
“Uncle Pete and I are getting married,” Alyssa says excitedly, holding her hand out for Bailey to see the ring I somehow missed.
Pete looks over his shoulder at me, fully aware of my feelings on the situation. I just shake my head, silently wishing the poor bastard better luck than I had.
“We’ve already booked the Grotto for next month,” Alyssa says to the room in general, her eyes dreamy as she looks at Pete.
“They had a last-minute cancellation and we didn’t want to wait another year for their next available date.”
“A month?” I sputter, quirking one brow in Pete’s direction. He gulps, giving me a slight nod of his head. Oh, God.
“Well, Bailey, we were hoping you’d agree to be our flower girl,” Alyssa continues, turning her attention back to my beaming daughter.
“I’d love to!” she shrieks, wriggling to get out of the chair. Before they can prepare themselves, Bailey launches herself at Pete and Alyssa, one arm around each of their shoulders as she dangles between them.
“Congratulations, man,” I finally say, moving fully into the room and scooping my excited daughter into my arms to give them some peace. I settle her across my lap when I drop into the chair she vacated.
“Thanks, Theo,” he says, draping an arm around Alyssa. She snuggles into him and a wave of jealousy courses through me.
I’ve been where they are. I’ve had that new love bliss. And I’ve also had the heartache when it ends. I dated a little when Bailey was younger, but I never introduced her to any of them. I have a child to think about now, and I can’t put either of us through the pain of that kind of loss. I won’t survive it a second time.
Chapter Three
Libby
Even though today is Friday, it feels like a month of Mondays all rolled into one. I can’t really complain because business is booming. So much so, that I’m actually considering hiring a full-time assistant, at least for the summer rush.
“Pollen in Love,” I say on auto-pilot as I pick up the ringing phone. “Yes, of course. I have time for a consultation today. Two o’clock? Great. See you then.” Definitely time for some help. My best friend, Ellie, stops in when she can, but now that she’s getting married she’s in full wedding planning mode, so I hate to ask.
The bell rings as I hang up the phone, and I half expect to see my mother standing on the other side of the counter dragging a poor, unsuspecting man behind her for my inspection. My mouth drops open when I see a petite blonde with a radiant smile leading a gorgeous, but uncomfortable, looking man behind her.
I recover quickly, but wipe my mouth to clear away any drool that might’ve escaped as I watched this gorgeous man walk through my store.
“Hi, I’m Alyssa,” she greets cheerily, freeing her arm from the man beside her to reach out and shake my hand. “I’m the bride.” She’s practically singing at this point, and her happiness is infectious.
“Nice to meet you, Alyssa. Welcome to Pollen in Love. I’m Libby Bloom.”
“Ironic name for a florist,” Mr. Sexy scoffs. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve heard that.
“Nana married into the name and took it as a sign. She opened the shop and passed it to me.” It’s the elevator version of what is actually the love story of a generation, and the real reason I refuse to settle for one of the many men my mother parades in front of me.
“Sorry about him. This is Theo. He’s the fog.”
“I’m the what?” he grits out, looking around and glaring at the floral arrangements.
“The fog. Friend of the groom,” she says, rolling her eyes affectionately at his ignorance.
“I know it’s last minute, but my boyfriend—oops, wait! My fiance—and I just got engaged a few days ago and snagged a last minute cancellation at the Grotto. Now we’re simply scramblin’ to get everything in order so we can have our dream weddin’,” she sighs dreamily.
“Congratulations, that's a beautiful venue. How can I help you today?”
“We're hoping you might be able to squeeze us in. Since the venue is outdoors, we won't need a ton of flowers, but,” she says, extricating her arm from that of the silent, sexy man at her side to grab her phone. “I was hoping we could get something like this.”
The inspiration photo on her phone is a beautiful chorus of reds and pinks surrounding three large, pillowy white peonies. I nod, mentally running through what inventory I'll need to make her vision come to life and I'll have time to do it justice.
“Let me check the calendar real quick,” I say, opening the app. “What date are we looking at?”.
“June seventh,” she says quickly. “It's going to be perfect. Pete, that's my fiance, is a math professor and he has a thing about prime numbers,” she explains, that dreamy look returning to her eyes. “He says it's good luck. So I'm hoping he's right and everything just comes together like a dream.”
