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“Sky …” he scolds.

“What? I do. It’s this very sexy evening I’ve got going on. It’s called being a small business owner who has to be responsible and do her taxes.” I tug on a length of ribbon from the holder, snipping it off, and begin to tie a bow around the gathered stems.

“So, not an actual date?”

“It’s as close as I’ll get, B.” I laugh at how dismally boring my life is. Not bitter about it, at all. “Super romantic, though. Between my laptop … my spreadsheet … a bit of wine, throw in some cheese, put on a face mask, it’s a whole thing.”

“Well, let me come crash your incredibly lame night, and I can try to help, or at the very least I’ll do face masks with you and feed you ice cream.”

“Salted caramel?”

“I’ve got a pint of that and chocolate fudge. Didn’t know what your broken heart would be in the mood for.”

I pause. Licking my lips as I try to figure out how to respond.

“You know I’m long over Jeremy. You don’t have to mother hen me. I’m honestly fine.” Sweeping my palm across the workbench, I gather up the scattered pieces of cut-off stems from the arrangement and toss them in the trash.

After the scene I discovered on Christmas Eve, I cut all contact and blocked his ass everywhere. He can enjoy whoever his kitchen blow-job blondie is. I’ll gladly never see the prick ever again.

“I’m not talking about wank-face Jeremy.”

My stomach drops.

“I’m talking about whatever jerk you hooked up with on New Year’s and have been moping around about ever since.”

“I didn’t—”

“Look. I’m gonna be on your front porch at six. So you can try to wriggle out of telling me everything then, but spoiler alert, I’m gonna get it out of you.”

The door to my shop opens, with the nervous fiancé-to-be arriving right on time to collect his flowers.

“I gotta go, B.”

“Face masks and spilling your guts start at six.”

“You suck,” I hiss.

“I do. Very well, might I add. Just ask Flinn how good my sucking is.”

I hang up on his hysterical laughter and flash a bright smile while holding out the perfect bouquet to symbolize love.

Meanwhile, my heart aches for the loss of my own.

CHAPTER 26

There’s a half-eaten wedge of brie, two slices of leftover pizza, and a bottle of white wine occupying my otherwise empty fridge.

At least that’s dinner sorted for this evening.

Brad knows me well enough that he’ll either eat before he comes over or turn up with takeout of some kind.

I’ve been a fluttering bundle of nerves since his phone call earlier, trying to figure out the best way to sidestep this entire conversation.

There were a few single guys at the New Year party, but Brad is friendly with all of them back in Crimson Ridge, so I can’t pretend to shrug it off as if it was some stranger he doesn’t know.

I grab everything out of the fridge, which now glares back at me woefully bare, and toss the pizza in the microwave.

The clock tells me I’ve got five minutes until he’s going to arrive, so I go in search of my clay face mask in the bathroom.