27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Delilah
S urprising nobody, I spend the day absent-mindedly overwatering flowers and mixing up receipts, and it’s all Cedric’s fault.
I need you to know that I want to spend time with you in whatever capacity. I want to quell your doubts, and soothe your fears.
All of Cedric’s words from last night replay in my head, but even more than the irrefutable knowledge he wants me, it’s the way he backed up what he said with his actions. Even when it would be all too easy to blame my animal instincts for that kiss, he was right. I wanted him to stay, and it’s a good thing he didn’t. I can’t be reckless all the time. And this morning I woke up with a text that said:
Good morning. You’re beautiful.
“What on earth are you doing?” Myrta asks, and it’s only then that I realize I was pressing my fingertips to my lips.
“Nothing!” I say, snatching the nearest box and pretending to be sorting through gardening plowers until Myrta is out of sight. I smell coffee, and though I know it’s Myrta’s mid-morning drink, my thoughts once again wander to Cedric, to that day when he barely knew me and went out of his way to grab a tumbler of my favorite drink. I think about how it’s going to be my birthday so soon, and for the first time in years, I have a wish to make.
I know that I can never get my old life back, the life where I was just a girl who worked at the local flower shop and lived next door to her best friend; a girl who enjoyed playing with her dog, finding pretty clothes, and making people happy.
And while I’m still those things, I am also something that I never could have anticipated becoming.
But my wish has nothing to do with that.
This year, Cedric will be there. And I’ll ask him to dance, and I’ll coax a few precious smiles out of him, and when I’ll kiss him, I’ll know he wants it as much as I do. So no matter what the future holds, no matter how improbable it might seem… I’ll know exactly what to wish for.
I barely notice the week that passes by.
Cedric is still, unsurprisingly yet reassuringly, too good to be true.
He’s been coming to the shop every day, and though Myrta seems to have started tolerating his presence in her sacred space, he spends most of his time there with me. I barely contained an endeared giggle when I saw him practicing wrapping a bouquet that needed some trimming at the stems. Brows lowered in concentration and grunts of frustrations escaping him when the crepe paper tore beneath his fingers, I walked up to him and guided his hands gently.
“Managing customer relationships is easier,” he said sourly.
“You’ll be a pro in no time,” I reassured him.
I gave him a quick demonstration, and though I could feel him following my movements diligently, his eyes were on me when I looked up, rather than on my handiwork. It’s unsettling, in its best possible sense, the way it feels like I’m the only thing worth looking at.
“Was it too quick? I can do it again.”
“I’ve got it.”
I wouldn’t dream of taking credit for it–not all of it, at least–but there’s something different, now, about the way he carries himself. Maybe being here is easing some of the pressure of the burdens that so clearly weigh on him, though I don’t miss the nervous glances he gives his phone.
Whether we’re spending minutes or hours together, without fail, my cheeks hurt from smiling. He doesn’t have to try to be funny; he already is, in such an odd, charming way. And in the quiet moments, when I’m not recalling a disastrous adventure with Faye and he’s not replying to my questions about his busy, rule-bound life, it’s still good. No, better than that, because at some point along the way, I started realizing I don’t need to fill the silence, as long as he’s sharing it with me.
When he reaches for my hand without so much as needing to look at me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I’m helpless to all but take his right back.
I like him so much it’s unreasonable, and yet, I can’t seem to slow down my heartbeat whenever he enters the room.
On Tuesday evening, after Myrta leaves, I ask Cedric to keep an eye on the door for me. He agrees easily, and I go to the greenhouse, making sure none of the carnivorous plants took a liking to the decor I put up. Assuming they only eat insects was my mistake, to be fair.
I look up, inspecting my work one more time.
“It’s pretty damn cool,” I whisper to myself before leaving the door slightly ajar. When I walk back up to Cedric, he’s balancing one ankle on the opposite knee, dark eyes cast on a small pile of documents propped in his lap.
“Ready to go?” he asks when he senses me approaching, the rickety chair groaning as he shifts his weight.
“Actually,” I drawl, “There’s one more thing I need your help with.”
Cedric raises one eyebrow, flipping the document pile closed and eyeing me curiously.
“Come on,” I say, pulling lightly on his wrist as he effortlessly unfolds himself from the chair and follows me. I stand on my tiptoes and move behind him as we stop before the door to the greenhouse, reaching to cover his eyes with my hands.
“I will hardly be of any help if I can’t see,” he says, ever practical.
“I take surprises very seriously.”
“Historically, I do not do well with surprises. ”
I’m about to remove my hands, but his own come up to keep them in place.
“But I trust you.”
My stomach flips, having experienced guilt and relief in the span of ten seconds, but I guide us forward, kicking lightly on the door so that Cedric doesn’t crash against it.
“You can look now,” I whisper once we’re fully inside.
Cedric
I open my eyes slowly, my lips parting on an exhale as I take in my surroundings. I’ve been in the greenhouse before, of course, but it’s never looked like this. The glass ceiling is covered in sparkling points of light, its silver-white shine reflecting on the leaves of the plants, making them look positively otherworldly. It’s like staring at a patch of sky from up close, while the actual sky bleeds in the background.
“Delilah,” is all I manage to say.
“Is it too cheesy?”
“It’s–no.”
“You don’t look ecstatic,” she says with a small, nervous laugh.
“No, I am,” I reply after a beat. “I just don’t–I’m not sure what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“How?” I ask, truly at a loss for words, as I struggle between keeping my eyes off the luminous ceiling and Delilah’s equally luminous smile.
“It’s a plant,” she says, her fingers wrapping lightly around my arm. “Well, the plant captures the extra water between its leaves and releases it after a few days in these sort of dense droplets that are really shiny. I went through four sticks of hot melt glue, and Myrta might murder me if I don’t scrape it off at some point, but I’d say it was worth it.”
Considering the amount of time we’ve spent together, I can’t imagine how she found any left to work on all this. I swallow, pushing through a knot of emotion in my throat.
“It must have taken bloody ages to put them up,” I say, unable and unwilling to keep the wonder from my voice. “It’s incredible.”
“I wanted to give you something tangible of your time here, but nothing seemed to cut it, so… I hope you’ll remember this.”
I look down and turn to her fully, embracing her properly. “Nothing about this–and you–is forgettable.” I lean down to kiss the smile on her lips. “Thank you.”
She shakes her head, touching the tip of her nose to mine. “Thank you .”
“I’ve barely done anything except move pots around,” I say, overwhelmed by the depth of my attachment to her.
Delilah leans back, her eyebrows scrunched. “Are you kidding me? Cedric, you’ve made me so happy . You’ve made everything better.”
“I’ve also made everything more complicated.”
“Like I said,” Delilah shrugs. “Worth it.”
I press a light kiss to her forehead, not trusting myself to say the right thing. Though it’s a fragile consolation, at least now I know what it feels like to be wanted with no conditions.
And even though I should be grateful I got to experience it at all, I can’t stop myself from quietly wishing I’ll never have to give it up.