Epilogue
Epilogue
Hannah
“The judges have viewed all the entries and picked four finalists to compete. Will the following florists step forward…”
Armando’s arm tightens around my thickened waist from behind. “It’s gonna be you,” he murmurs in my ear.
Marco and Leo both thump me on the back. I’m touched they came along. It’s really true that Armando’s family looks after one another. And that now includes me.
My heart taps a staccato beat against my ribs, but the truth is—I don’t care if I don’t make it to the finals. What’s more important to me is this feeling in my chest now.
The pouring flow of love, of support from him. The pleasure of having the person I care about most in this world at my side for the moments that matter.
As he promised, Armando used Emilio’s restitution payment to invest in Garden of Eden.
He bought a new van and hired two part-time guys to make my deliveries.
He’s thrown himself into building the business—our family business, he calls it—and in the last two months, revenue has already tripled.
He talked the don into making physical upgrades and is looking into a second location.
All the stuff that used to terrify me, he’s taken over, and he makes it look so easy.
I can focus on what I’m good at—the artistic side, and we do the networking together, so it’s less intimidating.
“Hannah Munn,” the announcer says, and I gasp. I really didn’t expect to make it to the finals.
“Told you,” Armando rumbles in my ear before releasing me to go up on stage.
I draw in a shaky breath, shake out my hands and bend over to pick up my bucket of flowers.
“Stop,” Armando scoffs. “I’ll carry them up there.”
He doesn’t let me pick up anything heavy. Or stay on my feet for too long. Or work too hard. He treats me like a princess, except for in his bed. There, he still turns animal on me, even with my growing baby bump.
I make my way up there, and he follows, carrying my bucket full of flowers and setting it beside me on the floor.
“Knock ‘em dead, Flowers,” he murmurs and squeezes my hand before he slips away, leaving me with the other contestants.
The next step is to design an arrangement for them with flowers we provide while everyone watches.
Then to make one with flowers they provide.
I wait for the timer then put together my arrangement.
It’s an artistic spiral of multi-colored roses interwoven with freesia and silver wicker wisps.
When I finish and step back for the judges to view, I don’t let myself look at the other three contestants’ arrangements—I’m too nervous and doubt wants to creep in, hard.
Instead, I find Armando in the audience.
We lock gazes, and immediately, I sense his strength.
His confidence in me. It pours into me, washing away the nerves.
I attempt a small smile, and he grins back.
Full-on grin. Nothing makes me happier than seeing his face crack a smile like that. Knowing I’m the one who helped revive him.
Last week was Grace and Emilio’s wedding.
I did my very best on the flowers—not because Emilio deserved it but because it’s Armando’s family, and I’m a part of it now.
We attended the wedding as guests, as well.
It was Armando’s decision. He said he was too happy with me to hold a grudge with either of them.
The organizers bring us their buckets of flowers, and the next round begins.
I don’t think, just let my fingers pluck the flowers and arrange them, no plan in mind.
I know if I start trying to figure out the right thing, I’ll get it wrong.
My creative genius happens when I don’t edit, don’t worry, don’t think.
So I ride the bliss of Armando’s love. The pleasure of wearing his ring and building a life, family and business with him. And the arrangement creates itself—a simple but striking multi-tiered arrangement of peonies and star-gazer lilies.
The timer dings. We step back. I catch Armando’s eye, and he winks. Hope starts to leak in. I made it this far, it sure would be amazing to win. But no, I shouldn’t let myself go there because what if I’m disappointed?
The judges confer, and I get a little dizzy waiting. The pregnancy’s doing a number on my blood volume, or so my mom has told me. She’s overjoyed with my pregnancy now that I’m happy. I think my dad is even starting to accept Armando although he doesn’t like the fact that he’s part of the mafia.
Armando says that’s something he can’t change, but he promises to shield me and our family from any of its negative effects.
I know there are no guarantees. He could end up in prison again.
Or be killed. But for the moment, the don is letting him stay out of the business to run mine.
And it’s hard not to feel invincible with his love wrapped so tightly around me.
“The judges have made their decision. In third place, Jaya Lowe.” The crowd claps. I pretend I’m breathing. “In second place, Eric Diamond.”
Crap. That probably means I didn’t get it.
“In first place, the winner of this year’s competition is… Hannah Munn, of Garden of Eden.”
I hear Armando shout. I try to stop the waterworks already spewing from my eyes, but it’s impossible. There will be no elegance and poise for me as I accept the trophy. But it doesn’t matter.
I won.
I carry the trophy back to Armando on shaking legs, and he sweeps me off my feet into a spin. “You did it! I knew you would, Flowers.”
“I can’t stop crying.” I say the obvious.
He sets me gently on my feet and kisses away the tears. “Keep crying, Flowers. It only gets better from here.”