Chapter 23
BLYTHE
Maggi is still grumbling about having to spend the night in our room instead of with her grandparents by the time I’ve showered and brushed my teeth. She’s still grumbling as she fights sleep, and I’m almost positive she’ll be grumbling the minute she wakes up.
My book is open on my chest. I gave up trying to read. Gave up pushing external thoughts away. So now I’m letting myself really consider what a move means.
Logically, the answer seems easy. Moving here would mean Maggi has family nearby. It would mean I have family nearby. But it would also mean starting over in a way I never anticipated.
I could open a new shop over here or at least get a job at one. Rediscover my love of the flower world.
When I close my eyes, I’m back in my kitchen, pregnant with Maggi, struggling to rearrange a mishmash of flowers from the shop.
I started to cry when I couldn’t get the freesia to sit right, and Eric came home to find me sitting on the floor sobbing.
“What’s wrong, hen?” he asked, sitting next to me in his suit.
I shrugged and blubbered something about stupid stems and smelly flowers, and he wrapped his arms around me and laughed.
It was a situation that seemed like a powder keg for me to go off, but the way he saw humour in the situation made me see it too, and the next thing I knew my sad, frustrated tears morphed into tears of laughter.
Eric had been my biggest cheerleader when I opened my shop. He spent a year visiting flower farms with me and listening to me go on and on about flower breeding and bulbs this and tubers that.
I was known for carrying as many local varieties as possible. I developed strong working relationships with several greenhouses and importers, and right as everything was really taking off, my feet were swept out from under me. Two months after his death I sold the business.
“Mommy?” Maggi’s whisper is accompanied by her hand brushing my cheek. “Why are you sad?”
Fuck. I hate this. I hate that all I have left of him are these memories.
I roll my head to look at my daughter, and I’m greeted by her little face scrunched with concern.
“I was just thinking about Daddy, Roo,” I admit.
“Papa says that Daddy is everywhere,” she whispers. She looks like she’s about to say something else but then she smiles and I see the truth because he’s right there in her smile.
“Papa might be right,” I say, placing my forgotten book on the nightstand and reaching to turn off the light. In the dark, silent room, I roll to gather her in my arms, resting my face in her hair and breathing her in.
Yellow roses used to be my favourite smell until Maggi came along.
It’s not until I feel her body relax that I give in to my own exhaustion. And when I dream, it’s not of the place I’ve called home for my whole life. It’s of green hills covered in heather, a little girl's giggle dancing across a dark blue loch, and a man with dark brown hair and kind brown eyes.
“Mommy.” Maggi rocks me gently, her gross morning breath pulling me out of sleep faster than any alarm ever could.
“Okay, Roo,” I murmur, rolling away and opening my eyes to look at the clock. It’s eight a.m., which is late for us. “Oh.” I sit up quickly. “We slept in,” I exclaim, peeking over my shoulder to find Maggi already half undressed.
I don’t know what we’ll get up to today.
There’s another outing for those who have booked in for the week, but I can’t remember what it is.
There had been rumblings of a flower arranging class if enough people were interested, put on by the head gardener.
Knowing Maggi, she’ll want to go hunting for the folk again, but I may try and convince her to play with some flowers with me.
We still have two days here and then another month in Scotland. Plenty of time to look for the folk.
“Can I go to Nana and Papa’s room?” she asks, pulling on the purple dinosaur dress she picked out herself before we came.
I shake my head as I hop into my jeans. “We’ll see them at breakfast, okay? They may still be sleeping.”
“Nuh uh,” she argues, shaking her head. “Papa gets up in the wee hours every day,” she states matter-of-factly with an accent and everything.
I can’t be certain, but I have a feeling that if we move here, I’ll be the only one without a thick Scottish accent in a matter of weeks.
And there I go thinking about a move again.
“That’s great. I’m happy for him, but I really want to spend the morning with you today, okay?”
Maggi hugs Nessie close, a hundred emotions playing out across her face before she nods.
By the time we are walking hand in hand down the grand staircase, I’m pretty sure I’ve made up my mind about our future, even if it terrifies me.
“Oh, it looks like we have one more joining us,” the gardener says, smiling and waving at whoever walked into the garden behind us. “Would you mind shuffling down a couple feet, and then we can add another station?”
I do as I’m asked, nudging Maggi playfully with my hip and watching as she hops dramatically to the side.
After breakfast, she gave up asking to spend time with her grandparents and got excited about the idea of playing with flowers. Whether or not that excitement persists throughout the class remains to be seen.
“Prince!” she squeals, and I look to my left in time to see Sam lift a large bucket of flowers onto the table.
“Hey there, princess!” he says, grinning at my daughter before his eyes slide to me. “Hey, Rosie.” I wasn’t aware that a voice could touch me, yet it feels like his fingers just danced down my spine.
“What are you doing here?” I croak, suddenly nervous that the man who has seen me naked several times now is standing beside me, ready to create a floral arrangement.
His smile grows, and his eyes dip to my lips. “The other option was golf, and I hate golf.”
“And you like flowers?” I ask, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice.
His smile turns deadly. It’s one of those panty-dropper smiles I’ve heard about but have never experienced. And the reason I know that’s what it is is because I have the sudden urge to undress, to drop my panties if you will.
“I thought I made it pretty obvious how much I like flowers,” he says, reaching for a rose and bringing it to his nose, eyes on me as he inhales deeply. A panty-dropping sniff… is that a thing?
He’s annoyingly captivating. Jesus, this is Disney princess level shit.
I’m practically waiting for him to reach out, take my hand and then begin floating away while everyone continues arranging flowers like we’re not defying gravity.
Probably singing too. I bet he’s got one of those singing voices that’s deep and silky.
Sam taps my nose with the rose, and I blink out of my stupor.
“You can’t do that here,” I scold, quickly looking down at Maggi, who smiles goofily up at me. “The prince is very silly,” I tell her, drawing a giggle from her when she raises her own rose to tap my nose. “Now look what you’ve started,” I hiss back at Sam only to have him tap my nose again.
I groan and turn my attention back to the instructor. I don’t need to listen. I know what I’m doing, but I have been in her position, so I’m going to be a good student.
Either Sam isn’t paying attention, or he’s genuinely terrible at the art of flower arranging because it looks like he’s reached into the bucket, gathered a bunch of stems, and decided to call it a day. Even Maggi has managed to follow along somewhat.
“You’re very good at that,” he muses, nodding down to where my arrangement sits in the bucket, waiting for the basket of ribbons to reach our table.
“Mommy’s a flowerist,” Maggi says with her whole chest.
“Florist, Roo,” I correct her.
“I recall someone mentioning that.” Sam smirks while he pulls apart his arrangement and starts again. “Mind showing me a couple tricks?”
I glare at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if this is a ploy to get me to come closer or if he genuinely wants help.
“I was going to give these to Martha, but she’d probably like something a bit more”—he gestures at my bouquet—“like that.”
“Professional?”
“Is that the word? I was going to say good.”
I study his hands as he fidgets with the stem of a purple dahlia. He may actually be serious about wanting to do a good job.
“Copy me,” I instruct, picking up a yellow dahlia and placing it in my left hand. “Actually,” I place my hand on his arm to stop his motion. “You’ll be doing the opposite because you're left-handed.”
“Someone’s been paying attention,” he muses.
He’s done a lot with his hands around me. If I hadn’t noticed, I should have my parenting privileges revoked.
I ignore his comment and wave my right hand at him until he does as he’s told.
“Now pick two more flowers that are roughly the same size with the same length stem.” I pick two more dahlias, one white and one more yellow, while he picks more purple.
“Angle your stems like this, always. Good,” I praise, catching the briefest little smile as he concentrates on his hand.
“Let’s do something tall now,” I say, reaching for a purple snapdragon while he grabs white cosmos, biting his lip, desperately trying to hold in a laugh.
Do something tall, dammit. “You’re ridiculous,” I scold.
“Mommy,” Maggi tugs at my arm, and I look down to see her little fist around a bouquet of nearly every flower, her fingers straining to fit around the stems.
“That’s beautiful, Roo.”
“Great job, princess,” Sam says, his spearmint breath tickling my ear as he leans around me to get a better look. “Maybe you should teach me?”
Maggi looks from Sam to me in wonder. “Really?”
“Sure, why not. Maybe you and I can see if we can finish faster than your mom?”
“What do I get when I win?” I ask, sliding to the side so Maggi can take my spot.
Sam looks from Maggi to me and back at my daughter, his eyes narrowed. “An all-expenses-paid vacation,” he says.
“Wow, you mean business. Missing competition?” I tease.
Sam’s eyes remain on me, and he shrugs. “I’m a competitive guy, Rosie. What can I say.”
“One. Two. Three. Go!” Maggi shouts, already gathering flowers before I look away from Sam.
“Not fair, I was distracted,” I whine.
I watch them conspire next to me; Sam holds up a flower, and Maggi decides whether or not she approves.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, it would seem.
I cannot possibly beat my daughter in this game, but I absolutely want to beat Sam.
Not that I’m actually expecting a vacation.
I mean, I know rugby players can make a good living, but that seems excessive.
Unless… My fingers fumble as I realize he may have meant a vacation with him. But there’s no way. We both know what this is, and what this is isn’t something that carries on after this week is over.
“Done!” Sam says, lifting Maggi high into the air, where she holds the most outrageous bouquet I’ve ever seen, aloft.
“We win!” my daughter squeals, shaking the flowers so hard several petals tumble to the ground. “What do we win?” she asks as Sam lowers her back down to the ground.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a sundae?”
“Oh, I’d like a Sunday,” Sam says, fist bumping Maggi excitedly while grinning at me. “Maybe I can get two Sun…days. One at the start and one at the end of an all-expenses-paid vacation.”
This man is definitely not talking about ice cream.
“But I didn’t win,” I retort, focusing back on my far prettier bouquet while I tie twine around the stems. “So I shouldn’t get anything.”
Sam sets Maggi down and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you think, princess? Should we share our prize?”
“Sharing is caring,” my traitor of a daughter quips. “Right, Nessie?” she asks her stuffie and then does a high-pitched voice, saying, “That’s right, Maggasaurous.”
“Maggasaurous?” I ask.
“Uncle Colin called me that because of my dress,” she says, spinning in a circle to remind me what she’s wearing. “I can be a dino like Nessie.”
“That’s a better nickname than he usually comes up with,” Sam says as he tidies up the table.
Why does he have to do that? There are staff members already tidying up after the class, and this drop-dead gorgeous man has to start cleaning. It’s like he was sent by the universe to torture me.
Sam’s fingers gently take my chin while his thumb runs across my lower lip. “Got a little…”
I step away, and his hand falls while he chuckles, and somehow that’s worse than his hands on me.
I can’t seem to win at all today.