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She offers me a curt nod, then notices May paying attention to our interaction. “Better than ever,” she says in a sunny tone while tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll have Alex’s medical bills paid off in no time.” As she says the words, her expression drops, and I sense she’s realized that she’s still going to be behind. But her smile widens.
“Hey, I'm happy to help,” I say, though I'm part of the problem. The fake proposal still hovers between us, an unexploded bomb with the force and power to destroy our lives.
“Thanks.” There’s something tense in her features, and May glances over.
“I never could get him to listen like you did,” she says to Lila.
Lila’s smile doesn't reach her eyes, but it's there. It's something.
Delivery guys bustle in and out, arms loaded with bouquets destined for lovers, friends, and the occasional apology.
Lila oversees each order, her poise a stark contrast to the almost frantic energy around her. She’s grateful, despite the pressure of endless orders and more work than any one human can manage, her petite frame commanding among people larger and heavier than her.
“Another order ready!” she says.
I know what to do and take the arrangement, heading for the cooler prepared for outgoing arrangements. Her eyes narrow, but she lets me go.
“Be careful with that one,” she says. “It's for a 50th wedding anniversary.” The way her eyes go dreamy leaves me wondering if she’s imagining her own wedding to someone she loves, fifty years into the future. But she crashes back to reality with a look of pain.
“Got it.” I balance the delicate vase in my hands and make my way to the cooler. As I step into the back, I glance through the glass, watching her work. She deserves better than this mess I've dragged her into.
Eventually, I’ll have to come clean about everything, even if it means risking losing everything that matters to me.
When the last order of the day is completed, she lets out a huge sigh and walks over to lock the door. Then, with a squealing giggle of pure joy, she rushes toward me. Without a word, she leaps into my arms and I spin her around, loving the exuberance flowing from her every pore. The nervous energy shifts as she glances down into my eyes.
My heart hammers my ribs, the frantic beat matching the wild flutter of her pulse.
Her gaze drops to my lips, then she leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth, her energy finding a new outlet.
My hands grip her hips as she clings to me, her fingers tangling in my hair and holding the sides of my head. Her lips part, inviting me in deeper as heat swells between us. The gentle motion of the plants around us almost looks like they’re nodding in approval - even though it’s surely the fans making the bright petals dance.
I press her back against the cool wall, surrounded by the intoxicating fragrance of so many flowers. I want her. And judging by the hunger in her kiss, she wants me, too. If this is the form her blowing off steam needs, I’m all for it. And I lose myself in her, the need to be closer, to claim her as mine, to fix things between us, even though I doubt they can ever be repaired.
“Lila—”
May’s voice cuts through our embrace, and I set her down as we jerk apart like busted teens. May stands there, her apologetic gaze darting between us. “Sorry to interrupt, but Alex called. He needs you at the hospital.”
Lila's eyes widen, fear replacing the passion we’d been enjoying. She turns away from me, leaving the memory of her kiss lingering on my hungry lips.
“Is it Mom?” Her voice trembles, suddenly fragile in the air between us.
“I don't know.” May sounds stressed, and I know what I need to do.
“Let's go.” I try to sound steady and solid for her as my fingers lace with hers. I practically drag her toward my car as May promises to close up.
The drive is silent prayer, the hum of the engine the only sound as I contemplate all the words left unspoken. I hope her mother is okay, and I silently curse Alex for not giving more detail when he called.
Each red traffic light leaves her inhaling with fear and anger at the delay.
I steal glances at her profile, etched with worry, and fight the urge to reach over, to reassure her with touch. Some fears can't be smoothed away by touch, and mine might be more upsetting than anything else right now.
When we park, and I'm out of the car before the engine dies, rounding to her side. Her hand finds mine, a lifeline as we walk into the huge double doors into the sterile corridors toward her mother’s room.
“Thank you for being here,” she whispers, and I squeeze her hand, wishing I could shield her from whatever awaits behind those heavy doors.
As hard as it might be to believe, I don’t want her hurt or miserable.
We reach her mother’s room, and Lila stops dead in place as a man’s figure comes into view. She recognizes him; I can tell by the way she almost turns as if to run.
