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Mrs. Bennett gives me instructions on where to place each centerpiece. “You are welcome to stay and join us Olivia,” she tells me. “You know you have always been welcome in our home. And Ellie too, of course. Is she on her way?”
“Oh, that is too kind Mrs. Bennett,” I stumble through my words. “But I won’t be able to stay. Poor Ellie is sick at home and I should get back to her, and bring her some soup and Gatorade. I’ll just get to work and then get out of your hair,” I answer, itching to get my job done and then sneak out and put an end to this.
It is three o’clock and if I time it right, I can finish up here, drop off a care package at Ellie’s and still make it back home in time for a Housewives marathon. What can I say, I am a sucker for trashy TV.
“That poor girl. I hope she feels better soon. And Olivia, I want to thank you again for agreeing to do this. It’s so good to see you again. I hope life has been as good to you as you deserve.” She smiles warmly, placing both hands on my arms, squeezing gently. For a second it feels like no time has passed.
Caught up in my thoughts, I nod with a smile that I hope doesn’t look forced and then return to the van. I inhale a deep breath and begin removing the arrangements and placing them where I was instructed to, entering the home each time with a tremble in my hands and my heart at my feet.
I am just placing an arrangement on the bar when I hear my name. My spine straightens and I turn to face him.
“Olivia, are you responsible for my home smelling like fresh flowers? It is so good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Mr. Bennett. Happy anniversary,” I stammer, my anxiety reaching its peak.
The genuine warmth in his greeting helps to calm my nerves. I smile, remembering how kind he has always been to me. He’s dressed in his suit pants with a pressed white dress shirt, likely leaving his tie and blazer until the last possible minute.
“The flowers look beautiful, Olivia. My wife tells me what a great job you have done with your business. I am proud of you. Clearly you have an eye for it.”
“Thank you so much,” I reply, with a soft smile.
We are interrupted by Mrs. Bennett calling him into the kitchen. “Thank you again,” he says as he turns towards the house. “I will have to pop by and see you for Grace’s birthday.”
“That would be nice. It was good to see you.”
I struggle to keep my emotions in check. Mr. Bennett is a picture of contentment. I’m reminded why I was always so fond of him.
I make my way back to the van. Seeing the Bennetts again, and being back in this place where I once felt so at home- it’s overwhelming. I grab the last couple of arrangements, relieved that the job is almost done. I place one on the kitchen island and the final one on the round marble table in the center of the foyer. I adjust one of the peonies and take a step back to admire our work. I pull my phone from my pocket, hoping to take a quick snap to send to Ellie, but it falls from my shaking hands to the floor. As I bend down to pick it up, I feel the energy in the room shift.
He’s here.
I can feel it.
I have nowhere to hide.
I am afraid to look up. I swallow hard, feeling as though all the air is suddenly sucked from the room. Slowly, I stand up. His eyes meet mine. They lock together. There is no turning away. I feel heat rising up my neck. It’s him. Parker.
He moves towards me, closing the distance between us. His dark, moody eyes on mine.
“Livy, what are you doing here?” I’ve always loved the way he calls me Livy, like it was reserved for just him.
“I… um... your mom hired me to do the flowers for her party. I, …”
“Oh, that’s right, I heard you opened your own business. I’m really happy for you.” I chew on my bottom lip, wondering how he knows.
“Thank you,” I reply, in barely a whisper. “But... I better be going.” Damn, this is awkward. I need to get out of here.
He is wearing jeans and a grey Henley, and his thick dark hair is still wet from a shower. His strong angular jaw covered in stubble is the first sign I notice that he is no longer a boy. His sleeves are pushed up on his forearms revealing his toned, tanned arms and his shirt is pulled tight across his chest showing his athletic body. And those eyes. His deep brown eyes, the color of hot cocoa, sear right through me. They would trap me and never let me go if I let them. I need to go before I do something I will regret.
“Wait, Livy.” Parker clears his throat and edges forward, reaching for my arm. His hand on my skin. An instant jolt of electricity passes through me at his touch, reminding me of our chemistry. “Can we talk? I’m here for the weekend. Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Parker, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I pull away, trying to keep space between us. I immediately miss the warmth of his touch. He smells like fresh rain and cedar and it’s intoxicating. Dangerous.
“Just lunch, or coffee. I’m not asking for anything more.” His mouth tips up into a gentle smile. That smile that makes me forget right from wrong.
“I’m sorry, Parker. It was nice to see you, but I really have to go.” Not giving him another chance to change my mind, I turn towards the door.
“Please consider it, Livy. Meet me tomorrow. I want to see you again.” The words slam into me. Every part of me wants to say yes, but I know I could never survive getting hurt again.
