by Maggie Way
He managed to look embarrassed as he twisted his torso and attended to his pants. Returning my attention to young Shaylene, I stood before her and cupped her cheeks with my hands. “Do you want to get married today?”
“Ahmmm…” Her eyes darted to the man behind me. “I guess?”
I pressed a thumb on her cheek. “Don’t look at him. Look at me.” She obeyed, worry filling her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s a yes or no. If you want to get married, then you need to stop this, forget about this loser behind me—”
“Hey! I heard that!” he argued.
I tilted my head but didn’t look at him. “Oh, hush you.” Back to the bride… “You’re young. You’re allowed to make mistakes. The decision is yours, not anybody else’s. He’s married, and no matter what he’s told you before, he will never leave his wife.”
“But…he said…” A tear rolled down her cheek, causing a black streak to line her otherwise flawless skin. “He said he would.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “And you believed him? How many times has he said that?” She didn’t reply. Her bottom lip quivered. “Too many times, right? And yet he’s still married. And you’re about to walk down the aisle.”
“Shay, please…don’t listen to her…you know I love you and we’re meant to be.” Shaylene’s lover appeared by our side, not paying me any mind. I’d heard those words before, not spoken to me but to someone else, while I listened, breath held, on our phone extension. Promises. All empty promises.
Shaylene wiped a hand over her cheek and faced him. I stepped aside, but ready to interrupt once again when she muttered, “I don’t know, Ben…she’s right.” Hallelujah! “You’ve said it over and over and you never left her.”
After a quick angry glance at me, his features morphed like he meant what he’d said and about to say. He touched her cheeks, her hair, and begged, “Please, Shay, baby, don’t do this. Just give me a few months and I’ll figure everything out.”
The confused bride fiddled with her auburn, professionally-styled curls and worked her bottom lip between her teeth. I prepared to step in once again and slap the stupid out of her, metaphorically, of course. But she pushed his hands away.
“No, Ben. Enough. I can’t do this anymore. I’m marrying your brother…” My jaw dropped. Did she just say ‘brother’? Since I started working at Eva’s Garden Flower Shop almost six months ago, having aided in doing the floral arrangements for more weddings than I could count, I had never witnessed such drama unfold. And here I thought my life was the only one in shambles.
I didn’t move; I needed to let this mess sort itself out, but I wanted to know every tiny detail. “I thought you’d leave Annie when we got engaged, but no. I love you but I can’t…I just can’t.” Shaylene whipped around and fell into my arms. I let her sob on my shoulder as I murmured words to her, words that I hoped would be enough to encourage her to carry on.
While patting Shaylene’s back, I eyed Ben, wondering if I could believe what I was seeing. He appeared distraught. Ben hung his head low, and rubbed the back of his neck. He avoided eye contact with me—the stranger who’d probably, inadvertently, given him blue balls and broke up his secret tryst with his brother’s bride-to-be. He shifted his weight from one foot to another.
“Shay, please,” he said quietly. To which I lifted a finger, hushing him instantly. Ben wanted to say more; his mouth opened and closed a few times. Shaylene’s shoulders shook as I kept my arms tight around her, and she sobbed. Without another word, Ben shuffled to the door and left.
When Shaylene heard the door close, she tilted her head up and looked around the small bathroom. Realizing her secret lover had gone, she dropped her head back on my shoulder and continued crying. “There, there. Everything’s going to be okay,” I lied through my teeth.
If my mother had been around right then, she would have said, Quando si comincia male, si finisce peggio. A bad beginning makes a bad ending. In my experience, I found this to be true. But Shaylene didn’t have to believe this. She had hope: she could marry the man she ought to, and create something beautiful. Or that could be my fairy tale ending wish for her.
I waited with Shaylene in the bathroom until she got herself together, with time ticking on my watch and the hall—with an abundance of cream Cymbidium ‘Lionello’ orchids, peonies, lilies and white roses—undoubtedly filling with guests. It was a lavish wedding, the flowers alone costing more than I made in a year.
Using my fingers, I curled and adjusted her hair to hide any signs of what she had done. Her makeup was a mess, but it didn’t take away from her youthfulness and beauty. Lucky for her, I always kept a tissue in my pocket, and we dabbed at the dark streaks on her face.
“There, that should be good until you find someone with some powder.” Her cheeks were flushed and we calmed the slight puffiness under her eyes by applying cold water but if anyone got a closer look, they would know the slight pink hue in her eyes was a sign she’d been crying. My only hope was no one else would know it was because of a broken heart.
A knock on the door caused us to jump. I held my hand over my chest, fearing it would explode. “Hello? Is anyone in there?” I recognized the voice immediately. Nica, the wedding planner, knocked again and rattled the doorknob. “Shay? Are you in there?”
Shaylene and I stared at each other one last time and I nodded. My job was done…well, not quite my job, but I can hand her to the person who’d know how to handle these situations.
“Just a minute.” I stepped to the door and took another glance at Shaylene. When I smiled, she mouthed a ‘thank you’, and with that, I opened the door.
“Hi, Morgan, have you seen the…” Nica visibly relaxed upon seeing the missing bride behind me. “Shay, thank God. There you are.” She entered the room. “Everyone’s been looking for you. Are you okay?”
I stood by the door and watched Nica do her miracle. She was by far the best wedding planner I’d ever seen. Okay, not that I knew a lot of them. But Nica had talents like no other, even though her business was still new. I suspected it came from her belief that everyone deserved a happily ever after. An expected notion for someone who was blissfully in love with her boyfriend, but my experienced heart would argue otherwise.
“Just a bit of cold feet,” I told Nica. She threw me a quick glance and with that one look, she seemed to understand what I truly meant.
She hiked up her tea-length dress and knelt on the cold tile, placing a clipboard and a walkie-talkie by her feet. Nica took Shaylene’s hands into hers. “Remember, breathe. We talked about this.”
“I’ll leave you two be…”
I was already out the door when Nica called out. I paused at the threshold. To my surprise, she hugged me. “Thank you.” Holding me at an arm’s length, her smile brightened her face. “You have no idea what this means to me.” I patted her hand. “Oh and Darwin’s looking for you. He said you guys have to go.”
We both grimaced. One thing I’d learned about my employer was he did not like waiting for anybody.
“Well, I better go see him before he blows a fuse.”
“I’ll call him later. Explain what happened and all that.”
“That would be great.” I leaned closer. “Good luck with everything.”
It turned out I was the one who needed luck. As soon as I spotted Darwin pacing and grumbling to himself by the flower shop’s delivery van, I knew I was in trouble.
“About time you got here.” His face was red and it wasn’t from the heat of the sun in the cloudless sky.
“I had to go to the bathroom. Am I not allowed?” I spat back at him.
Months ago, I would have been terrified of losing my job if I’d said anything to him, particularly when he was in a sour mood. Not only did I realize I hadn’t actually used the facilities and my bladder could explode any minute but my stomach grumbled, letting me know it was past caring what Darwin said, employer or not.
His eyebrows drew together, and he threw me a look with the intensity
of a hundred angry men. Not surprisingly, he didn’t say anything more. He was a man of few words, unlike my ex-husband who loved to hear himself talk.
I stomped around the front of the van. He followed. Not caring why, I didn’t bother turning, otherwise I’d find myself arguing with him. It would be all moot. The pebbles crunched under his heavy boots. I ground my teeth together. Next time I found a bride humping someone other than the groom, I would shut my damn mouth. Sure you will, my conscience mocked me, and she was right.
I grabbed the handle of the passenger door and wrenched it open. Pulling on the hem of my dress, I readied my feet to take a leap on this monster of a vehicle. Then I felt Darwin by my side, his hand warm on my right elbow, and warmer still on the middle of my back. My breath hitched but I pushed it aside.
“Watch your head,” he said so quietly I thought I imagined it.
It took all of my hidden superpowers to order my muscles to move. I grabbed the side of the van and pushed my round behind up and on the seat, with Darwin’s help.
“Thank you,” I said, paying attention to the seatbelt, terrified that if I looked at him, I would say something else, something dumb.
He closed the door, walked around the van—not in any hurry at all, I noted—and took his seat on the driver’s side. I sat there, stiff and silent until we returned to the flower shop.
The first time I met Darwin, I thought he was handsome. He wore his thick, salt and pepper hair on the long side but he never appeared untidy. Although he’d kept a beard, it was trimmed to perfection, surrounding an appealing pair of lips. And his eyes…a stormy blue when he concentrated on an intricate arrangement, and during the off chance he found a reason to smile, they were as blue as the cerulean ocean.
Then I got to know him through the months, and as good looking as he was, he could be a big pain in my tush.
As soon as he killed the engine, I jumped out of the van on my own, and ran straight to the bathroom, ignoring Darwin’s grumbling. He was lucky the drive back was short. Relieved, I walked to the front of the shop and greeted Emily, the Saturday staff.
“Hey, Em, was it busy?” I leaned down and grabbed the small bag I carried my breakfast in.
“Not bad.” She didn’t bother looking up from the cell phone in her hand, her fingers flying over the screen.
“Okay, well I’m gonna take a quick break.”
No reply.
Shaking my head, I headed to the back room, where we had a small kitchen table and chair tucked beside life-like silk flower arrangements. Darwin loved order. Everything had its place. And God forbid something went missing, he’d have an aneurysm. I sat on the chair, propped my feet on the table—knowing I was safe, as Darwin had retreated to his apartment above the shop—and unpacked my peanut butter and banana sandwich. A thump sounded above me, and I paused, wondering what Darwin was doing in up there. I ignored that tiny spark I felt when he helped me up into the van, and chalked it up to the adrenaline rush from finding Shaylene and Ben.
Darwin had never been that close to me. He kept a good distance right from the start, and he never started a conversation. During the first month, I discovered that Darwin hated people. And vice versa. He often disappeared into the back room to hide himself from the world. However, whenever he came out, he brought out the most beautiful flower arrangements. When he was around, I couldn’t shake that nagging feeling that he was watching my every move, probably waiting for me to make mistakes.
Oftentimes, I would remind myself to consider my luck. Darwin had been so desperate for a daytime staff that he’d ignored my one-page, large font résumé, which contained my ever-useful degree in Animal Science and my two work experiences: a summer internship in a veterinary clinic in Austin and my part time administrative job while I attended college, all before I met and married Bob.
Working for Darwin Graves was no picnic. Good thing I had been blessed with unlimited patience to deal with his unpredictable moods, and an actual functioning brain to realize this was the best job I could ever find.
If I didn't enjoy learning on my own, I would have never gotten used to working at the flower shop. Darwin didn’t train me. He often left me to my own devices. At night, I’d had to look up flower images on the Great Google, and videos on how to cut and arrange them on YouTube at the library during my first three weeks. After a few months, I learned more about flowers and plants than a botanist could teach me, enough to gain Darwin’s trust that I could work alone at the front of the shop.
But I didn’t get his skills when it came to arrangements. I doubted he would take the time to teach me any of his natural talents. I was fine with that.
“Morgan,” Emily popped her head in. I struggled to bring my feet down.
“Yes?”
“Do you think you can take over? I told my boyfriend we could go see the new superhero movie.” She spread her lips into a grin.
“I’m not even supposed to be working today,” I muttered.
“What?”
I stood, stuffing the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth. With my late breakfast cleared, I gave Emily a thumbs-up.
“You’ll do it? Amazeballs!” She clapped her hands and whipped out her phone. Her fingers stopped their tapping. “I know Dar gave you Tuesday off for working today, but can you please work for me?” She scrunched up her face and pressed her hands together, sandwiching her phone between her palms.
My shoulders sagged and I avoided her gaze, even though Emily would stand there pouting until I said yes. “Em, I need a day off too.”
“But it’s Valentine’s Day!”
I finally looked at her, tilting my head to the side. “And you think I have no plans? I could have a date!”
Emily’s mouth turned into an ‘o’, then almost instantly her face lit up and she laughed, slapping a hand on her thigh. “You’re so funny. A date. Oh, my God. You almost had me there. Okay. I’m gonna go now before I pee my pants.” To add insult to injury, which she might not have realized she’d caused, she wiped away an imaginary tear.
“You’re welcome!” I said aloud but she was already out the door. “I could get a date if I want to.”
Emily could have been my daughter if I’d decided to have kids. Although, my child would have better manners. How Darwin ever put up with her for over a year I would never know. The only times I’d seen Darwin interact with her were the days he asked me to come in bright and early for a wedding prep. And all he would tell her was not to burn the place down.
I dragged a stool to the counter so that I could sit while I rifled through the week’s orders. It wasn’t surprising we’d quadrupled our delivery requests for Tuesday. While I was double-checking the addresses on each form, Darwin ambled in with a confused expression.
“What are you doing here?”
Head cocked to the side, I pushed my glasses down my nose and peered at him over the frames. “I work here.”
He shook his head then nodded. “I mean, I thought you went home?”
“I was going to, but Emily asked if I could cover for her so she could go to a movie.”
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
If he didn’t want me around, all he had to do was tell me. “You want me to leave?” He gave what I could only describe as barely half a shrug and grumbled to himself. “I guess that’s a no.”
He continued to work until customers started trickling in, a nonstop flow of demands, no matter how much I wished it would. Darwin was useless as he would run to the back every chance he got.
I’d just gotten off another Valentine’s Day phone order when a man came in, dapper in a gray designer suit. After taking off his sunglasses, he flashed me his charming smile and veered to the right, toward the bucket of flowers we had in stock. The way he walked with a proud gait and raked a hand through his hair reminded me of Darwin—or what Darwin could have looked like when he was younger. Gorgeous in a three-piece suit, intelligent with an air of arrogance.
Slipping off the st
ool, I fixed my hair and pressed my hands down my apron. I cleared my throat to catch the customer’s attention. “How can I help you today?” I stopped three feet away from him and clasped my hands together.
“I need a bouquet.”
“For your wife? Girlfriend?”
He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets and the fabric stretched over his buttocks, showing off a great behind. My eyes focused a few more seconds on them before I looked up, spreading my lips to a smile, and waited for him to answer.
“Wife.”
“For Valentine’s Day?”
He turned around and grinned. “When is that?”
“Tuesday,” I replied right away.
He worked a hand over his jaw. “Then I guess I will need two bouquets.”
“Great. What kind of flowers does your wife like?”
“Roses? Daisies? Maybe orchids?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
He chuckled, low and sexy, and I struggled not to fan myself. I had no silly illusions that he was interested in me; not a good-looking young man like him. After Bob, I’d given up on men, anyway. One bad marriage was enough for me.
“I guess I should know these things.” He spread a large hand on his chest.
I smirked and nodded once. “I guess this is why you need flowers.”
“You guessed correctly.” He laughed again and oh, what a sound. This time, I did fan myself. Admittedly, it was fun to flirt a little.
“Why don’t I pick a few flowers for you and make a lovely bouquet?”
“Sounds fantastic.”
“You have a budget?” I couldn’t help but bat my lashes.
He rubbed his hand over his chin again, thin lines appearing on his forehead while he was in deep thought. “What kind of budget would it take to say ‘I’m sorry I slept with your sister’?” Suddenly he wasn’t so sexy or handsome. But, instead of seeming apologetic, his smile widened even more. “I’m kidding.”