by Mia Caldwell
He cocked his head. "That sounds interesting."
I nodded enthusiastically. "It really is. Flowers have always had meanings. You probably know a few. Yellow roses for friendship, red roses for...," he was staring hungrily at my mouth as I talked. Like he wanted to kiss it. Or bite it. "Erm, love." I blinked and cleared my throat. "But it goes so much deeper than that."
Liam laughed softly. "I thought you were an accountant."
"Flowers are my passion," I told him.
His eyes lit up. "Are they now, Shay? That's really good to know. I'll try to remember that." There was that devilish dimple again.
I had to look away from those gray depths if I was ever going to maintain focus. "You're missing the coolest part though."
"No I'm not." He was definitely staring at my mouth. My lips felt swollen under his gaze. Tender and fat with the need to be kissed.
"Wait," I might have been saying that to myself. "Just listen."
"I'm listening."
And he was. He was focused on me like I was the only thing he saw. I felt like a queen. "Victorians with their, shall we say, rather roundabout way of expressing things like love and passion, came up with a whole dictionary of flower meanings." I pulled the little battered paperback out from under the counter and showed him. He took off his gloves and handled it like it was a sacred object. "Look, see here? They would send each other these coded messages." I flipped through the pages excitedly. When his bare, heated skin brushed against my fingers, I felt a jolt of electricity pass between us. "Uh, yeah, coded bouquets. They called them tussie-mussies. Isn't that a cute word, tussie-mussie?"
"Adorable," he exhaled. He wasn't looking at the book.
"Those little tussie-mussies let them say all sorts of beautiful," I snuck a glance at his dimple, "and dirty things to each other."
"Dirty, huh?"
"Filthy. And they could say it without ever having to speak anything out loud."
"Would you want a tussie mussie, Shay? Or do you prefer those things said out loud?"
I gaped at him. There was a promise in his eyes. A dangerous one. The heat under my skin threatened to burn me to ash. "Mm, I'm not sure," I heard myself say, then blushed to hear myself say it.
He held my gaze firmly for one more moment. Then, just as I was about to combust, he looked back down at the book. "This is really interesting, Shay," he said, and I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"It is!" I exclaimed, happy to be back in safer territory. "It's a whole hidden meaning. You can put together a bouquet that tells this whole story...."
I trailed off as I realized he wasn't even looking at the book anymore. "I am really glad I met you today, Shay," Liam said.
He sounded sincere. He looked sincere. Every cell in my body wanted to believe he was sincere. I wanted to say me too.
But the small, wounded part of me, still protective and suspicious, shut my lips and instead I just smiled. And the moment of openness passed. I felt myself close up tightly again. "So, Liam. What is your bouquet going to say?" I lifted my pen.
Segues were never my strong point.
He blinked. "I'm trying to say...." He thought for a minute. Several shadows passed over his face. "I want to tell her I'm proud of her."
Wait.
Her?
Chapter Three
Her. Of course it was for a her.
Hot, angry blood beat in my ears. Her? How dare he? Flirting like this when he was already with someone? What kind of arrogant bastard does that?
The kind of arrogant bastard you always fall for? The kind of arrogant bastard you married?
I opened and closed my mouth several times, each time having to bite my bitter words back. You cheating son of a bitch, your woman deserves better than you I didn't say.
I also didn't slap the dimple off of his beautiful face.
Instead I swallowed and tried to regain my professional tone. "You're proud of her." Emphasis on the her. "Pride, ah, yes, well that's amaryllis, that's easy."
I stalked over to the fridge and let the cool air blast my overheated face and took a deep breath. It helped being away from his dizzying presence.
Feeling marginally less ready to kill him, I pulled out the few amaryllis we had. "It's a beautiful flower, almost like a lily." I turned around to see him staring at me, an odd expression on his face. It was unnerving. I looked back down at the flower instead. "I like how the petals aren't perfect. They're a little tattered looking, see?"
He was breathing heavily. "I'll have to think about it." He looked ill. "I'm...not sure that's saying exactly what I want to say."
I swallowed again. The store needed this sale. I had to tamp down my hard feelings and do the whole good customer service thing. "Well, tell me more about her?" How long have you been cheating on her, for one?
"She's been through a lot and she's come out the other side."
I felt my heart skip sideways. Poor thing gets cheated on right when she comes through the bad times. But I looked at Liam again. He was clearly thinking carefully about this. Who was this man, putting this much thought into a bouquet? Standing there, in a coat that cost more than my car, fretting about buying flowers that "mean" something.
Maybe I had misread the flirting? Maybe I had been out of the game so long I was just desperately seeing something that wasn't there?
"Well, now," I heard my voice softening slightly. Jasmine always said I had the worst kind of soft heart. "You don't have to make it solely flowers," I told him. "Foliage adds color both to the bouquet and the language. We can add oak leaves, those mean bravery."
"Yes," his eyes glinted. They really were the color of the sea in winter.
"There's also 'hope in adversity.' That's pine, which is nice with the season."
"What about her being happy?"
I felt my heart skip a small beat. If you're cheating, no amount of flowers will make her truly happy. A bit of advice, free of charge. "Well we can say two things. There are yellow roses, of course."
He raised an eyebrow. "You said those mean friendship."
"They do, but not in Victorian language. That’s like the...," I waved my hands in the air, trying to grab the right word, "The...superficial meaning. Yeah, there's happiness, but then there's also the return to happiness. And that's lily of the valley."
He nodded. "She'd like that."
I swallowed. "Okay, so we have a bouquet here that says bravery, hope in adversity, the return of happiness and pride. I think you'll want the red amaryllis. Contrast with the little white of the lily of the valley." I held a few sprigs together to show him.
He cocked his head. "What about that one?"
I moved to where he pointed to the brilliantly red and white striped amaryllis still in the fridge case. "Yes," I nodded, impressed. "This is even better."
Liam tapped the order form. "So, this bouquet, this tussie-mussie," He looked at me and dimpled and my anger flared anew. "It says 'I am proud you made it through the hard times and now I want you to be happy?'"
"Yes." I clenched my fists.
"Perfect." He whipped out his card. It was black, heavier than normal, made out of some kind of metal instead of plastic. "When can I pick it up?"
"I can have it for you the day after tomorrow, provided the snow doesn't cut off our shipments."
"That's perfect." He looked at me sincerely for a moment. "I really want to thank you, Shay." He wielded my name like a caress. I felt the breath squeezed out of my lungs.
"You're welcome," I said tightly.
He extended his hand. I didn't want to touch him. I wanted him out of the store, out of my life before I did something I would regret forever. I never wanted another woman to feel as bad as I did when Tre cheated on me. I would never be the source of someone else's misery. But those eyes...
They needed to go.
"Okay. Thank you so much for your order, Liam," I wanted to say his name again for some reason.
He moved a little closer. "There
's just one more thing...Shay."
He was close enough to slap. Or kiss. "What?"
"You said I had no idea what to do with you. I'd like to prove you wrong...."
Something inside of me snapped. "I don't think so, Liam" I spat. "You've got some fucking nerve, you know that? Cheaters. You make me sick."
He looked startled and then amused. "Wait, you think...?" Then he laughed, "You've got the wrong idea, Shay."
"Do I?" I seethed icily. "Actually, in fact I think I have the exact right one." My voice was rising. "What exactly are you trying to pull here?" I snapped.
Just then Kit banged the back office door wide open. "Thank you so much sir, we'll be sure to have that ready for you tomorrow," he trilled, stepping over to my side. Keeping his eyes on Liam, he very carefully stepped down on my toes. "What the hell are you doing?" he singsonged under his breath at me as he waved. "Stay warm out there, sir, haha...."
Liam shook his head. The bastard was laughing. I wanted to fly at him, scratch his eyes out, but Kit's heavy boot had me pinned down.
The door shut behind him and Kit whirled on me. "What the fuck was that, Shay?"
"He's a cheater, Kit," I shrieked, my anger exploding. "The cocky asshole was hitting on me while he put together a bouquet for his girlfriend!"
Kit held up both hands. "Oh honey," he shook his head and exhaled. "You need to calm down, okay? You can't be this...one-woman-morality-crusade against the cheaters of the world. We need their business." He lowered his voice. "Mom needs their business. If a man wants to come in here and buy a fucking expensive bouquet for his lady and chat you up at the same time, you need to smile and let it roll off of you. They all aren't Tre, lover."
I clenched my fists and fought back the tears, but Kit cocked his head at me and suddenly I dissolved. "Oh shit, honey, shit I'm sorry," he crooned, folding me into his bear hug. "You're gonna be fine lover, you already are. You're so much better off without that shit husband of yours."
"I know," I sniffed. "I don't regret leaving him for a second. I regret staying as long as I did."
"You're a different woman now. Stronger, smarter. You came out okay."
"I'm okay," I repeated, knuckling away a tear. "But do me a favor?"
"Anything for you."
"You give him the order when it's done, okay?"
Kit's eyes widened. "Thought you needed me to do you a favor, but honey, you're doing one for me! Oh my god, did you see those eyes?"
"Don't remind me," I mumbled.
Chapter Four
"He hit on you, then made you put together a bouquet for his girlfriend? How could he do that?" Kiki's mouth was a perfect 'O' of shock.
Jasmine sighed noisily and raised her eyebrows in that arch way she had. I felt sorry for the freshmen unlucky enough to land in her lecture classes. "Kiki, honey, it only surprises you that people are awful because everyone loves you."
It was true. With her heart shaped face and sparkling chocolate eyes, Keysha Mills inspired devotion in everyone she met. She approached the world with the wide-eyed innocence of a Disney heroine, and trusted in its goodness. The world seemed to band together to protect her from ever being hurt, Jasmine and me being her biggest protectors. She returned the favor by being the most sincerely devoted and loyal friend you could ask for.
Jasmine, on the other hand, she was as suspicious and hard-nosed as they came. She viewed everything through the lens of skepticism. Devastatingly intelligent, I had seen her reduce grown men to tears just with the sharpness of her tongue. I was always grateful that she actually liked me and was on my side.
My two best friends could not be more different and I fell somewhere on the line between the two of them. I was not as naive as Kiki, not anymore anyway, but I was far from Jazzy's world-weary panache. I was somewhere in the middle. I hoped.
"So he was pretty rich though?" Jazzy prompted. We were out, at my insistence, at the hole-in-the-wall Thai place that was way too good for its crappy shopping plaza surroundings.
I set down my menu. The bone chilling winter cold had me craving Thai curries. "Want to know exactly how rich? We used the Graves Foundation as a case study in business school. They're that rich."
Kiki made an impressed sound. Jazzy just looked disgusted. "...can get away with anything...," I heard her mutter. The "excesses of the plutocracy," as she would call it, was one of her favorite topics and I knew I'd be hearing all about it later, most likely while I was trying to get ready for bed.
I hated that I still hadn't found a place of my own, but I was subject to the whims of my temperamental car and couldn't move too far away from the flower shop. Anything within a sane walking distance of the gentrifying block was way out of my price range. So for now I was still crashing in Jazzy's office cum guest room, sleeping under a pile of afghans crocheted by her mother. All of my stuff was still in storage, the remnants of my year and a half long failure of a marriage.
It wasn't like the two of them hadn't tried to warn me about Tre stepping out. He wasn't exactly secretive about his side-pieces. I was naive enough to ignore all of the warning signs until my best friends had to practically bludgeon me upside the head with the evidence.
Deep down I had always known Tre was a cheater. It was just easy to ignore how bad he made me feel because he always made me feel so good afterward - the attention, the compliments, the backrubs. He would make promises to me, get me purring again, content as a housecat, then go trotting off to cheat on me once again. And then it would be the same routine as before - the late nights at the office, the weird phone calls, the fevered texting as I laid in bed next to him, pretending to sleep. I was a fool. An innocent, trusting fool.
The day I finally confronted him with the emails he left open, he lied to my face. I told him either he had to get out, or I would.
He was still lying to me as I walked out the door.
No, Kiki and Jazzy tried to warn me about Tre and I hadn't listened to their advice until it was way too late.
I wasn't ever going to make that mistake again.
Not that this episode with Liam was going to require advice. Clearly he was a dog and a cheater, and after tomorrow I would never see him again.
Still, he had gotten under my skin in a way no man had in the six months my divorce had been finalized. "Pretty slick, the way he was getting to me though, talking about flowers meaning something," I added.
"It's like he read your manual before coming in the store," Jazzy remarked, picking up her menu again. "'How to get under Shay's skin. Step one, talk flowers.'"
"'Step two, be ridiculously hot,'" I muttered angrily.
"He was hot too?" Kiki fluttered her eyelashes. "Wow, that lucky girl."
I flashed back to his stormy gray eyes and shook my head to clear them away. "If he's a cheater, she isn't lucky at all. He's probably breaking her heart over and over again." I was warming to my favorite topic of late. "He probably showers her with flowers and gifts, treats her like a princess and then goes off and does whatever he wants. Rich prick!" Cheating men and their nefarious ways. It seemed like a never-ending refrain of mine.
Keysha and Jasmine eyed each other and seemed relieved when the waiter came to our table, sparing them from the rest of my rant. "Are you ready to order?" he asked in that soft, lilting accent of his.
I took a deep breath. "The usual," I smiled up at him.
"Jasmine tea, vegetable rolls and green curry, very good," he smiled back. I had asked him his name numerous times, but to my embarrassment I never was able to pronounce it correctly. He sure knew my order though.
"I'll have the red chicken curry," Kiki said. "Extra hot, please." In spite of her sweet ways, Kiki was a demon for spicy food. Neither of us could touch her dinner plate without spontaneously combusting.
"Dragon noodles, medium," Jasmine finally decided. "And could I have chopsticks?"
"Of course," the waiter took our menus. "You ladies enjoy."
"I love him," Kiki sighed as the waiter left. "He
's so nice."
"You say that about everyone," Jasmine huffed. "It's you that's nice, babe."
"That's so nice," Kiki squeaked and I had to laugh.
"Sorry that I'm especially man-hating tonight," I sighed.
The two glanced at each other. "It's fine, honey. That's what we're here for," Jasmine said.
I felt instantly guilty. "What's going on with you? You haven't been home in a few evenings."
"Start of a new semester." Jasmine was an associate professor at a college out in the suburbs.