Fourteen
FOURTEEN
Dahlia
I need today off. Is that alright?
Aunt G.
Of course, it is. It’s *your* garden.
You know what I mean, Aunt G.
Take all the time you need, Dahlia. I understand.
“ O rder for Dahlia?” The barista set a cup on the edge of the counter. “Cinnamon latte, no foam?”
“That’s me,” I said, cutting through the small crowd. I picked it up and made my way outside.
I was trying to do something different today, trying to see if I could go one day without crying over my mother or thinking about Everett.
I’d failed miserably, of course, but I was progressing.
Stepping into the nearby grocery store, I strolled to the magazine aisle, determined to drown myself in celebrity gossip.
“Dahlia?” a familiar soft voice said from my left.
I didn’t look over.
“Dahlia, is that you?” The woman moved closer, and I shook my head.
“It's not me," I said. "You’re confusing me with someone else."
“I don’t think so…” Everett’s mother gently cupped my face and turned me toward her.
Then she looked into my eyes.
“I promised my son I wouldn’t bother you outside Blooms and Letters, but I’m here for you whenever you need me, okay?”
I nodded, and she pulled me into a hug.
“I wish he was marrying you instead,” she whispered. “He belongs with you, Dahlia.”
Her words broke me—triggering soft sobs, and she held me close for what felt like forever.
Before I knew it, she was driving me home.