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“Oh, that makes it much better,” I snark, narrowing my eyes at him. “What do you want, Wyatt?”
“You, for starters,” he says, moving toward me slowly. “Then, I want to change the flowers for my wedding.”
“One of those things is possible. The other will never happen again. Ever.”
After changing his order and printing the new confirmation, I fend off his wandering hands as I walk him to the door. It takes several refusals and one restraining order threat for him to finally leave, and I finally take a normal breath when I hear the lock slide into place behind him.
I go about my nightly routine before climbing the back stairs to the apartment above the shop that I’ve called home since I took over the shop. My phone rings just as I set it down on the kitchen counter to pour myself an irresponsibly large glass of wine.
“Ellie!” I shout as I press the button to answer, giddy at the idea that my best friend is calling me. It’s only been a few days since we last spoke, but after today, it feels like it’s been years.
“Hey, LJ,” she says cheerily, ever the optimist. “What are you up to?”
I take a deep gulp of wine before I spill the beans.
“That shit stain. Just say the word and Drew will come ugly up that pretty face of his,” she offers, and if anyone would take on the world with me, it’d be Ellie Jo Sharp.
“Thanks, El,” I whisper. “I may just take you up on that offer.”
“So, what’s up with Mr. Sexy, was it?” Her giggle is infuriating, but effective, and before I know it, I’m confessing all of my deepest, darkest thoughts about the fog in a wedding I’m now attending in just a few short weeks.
“Does that mean there may be something there?” She asks, hopefully. “It’s been a while since Wyatt, and you have to get back in the saddle with someone. Why not a hunky, broody, beast of a man that gives as good as he gets. And I bet he’d give it to you good!”
Her laughter is so loud that I’m forced to hold the phone away from my ear until she regains control of herself.
“Maybe,” I say when she finally lets me speak. “There was something about him. But you know my luck. Then there’s my mom. Did you hear she wants to set me up with Scotty Burke? Scotty Burke!”
“Is that the kid who took dares to eat gum from under the tables in the cafeteria?” She ponders.
“Eeew, no!” What the fuck? “He’s the kid who went around saying he made me see stars during seven minutes in heaven at what’s her face’s party in seventh grade. Then he followed me around like a lost puppy for the rest of the school year.”
“Ooooh, hiiiiiim,” she says. “That’s a big hell no from me. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need to find someone, Liberty Joy.”
I hate it when she calls me by my first and middle names. It seems so parental. She’s only seventeen days older than me, for fuck sake, but when she uses both names I feel like a child, even at twenty-nine.
”Yes, ma’am,” I sass, knowing she hates it when anyone calls her ma’am outside of work.
*****
Lying alone in bed after my call with Ellie was cut short when Drew came home and carried her, laughing and giggling up to bed, I stare blankly at the ceiling wondering if maybe she’s right.
What’s the harm in letting someone in. Worst case, they break my heart, I wallow in self pity and endless gallons of ice cream for months only to find myself right back here, staring at a dark ceiling. Best case, I find my soulmate. Most likely scenario, I have some fun, am disappointed in some predictable guy-at-fault way, only to shrug it off and try again.
I toss and turn, hoping for unconsciousness that doesn’t come, only to roll over when the sun rises, resigned to another day of uncertainty.
Thankfully, the day goes by relatively quickly, and I’m busy with arrangements while Ellie tends the front of the shop. My ears perk up when I hear voices drifting over the whir of the cooler. The deeper voice is familiar and I cross the room quietly to listen.
It’s Theo, and he’s ordering a dozen roses. A pang of jealousy floods me as I wonder who the recipient is. Is it ethical to refuse the sale? Just last night I’d convinced myself to open my mind to a brief fling with him. He doesn’t wear a ring, but today, that doesn’t mean much. Maybe he can’t with whatever he does for work.
God, I’m a fool.
“For my daughter,” he says, and I hear Ellie start to grill him about the child in question.
When I hear the bell above the door chime a few moments later, I move behind the counter and wait for Ellie to look at me.
“How adorable is that?” She gasps, gesturing toward the door. “His daughter is sad and he bought her a dozen roses to cheer her up.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s setting the bar high for her future suitors.”
