Chapter Five
I’m not really thinking about it, am I?
No.
Well…
No.
I cannot sleep with my best friend. I cannot.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve thought about it hundreds of times over the years, how a part of me doesn’t just love him but is in love with him.
If I sleep with him, it’s just going to jumble up all those feelings, twist them into knots.
I’m after love, not heartbreak. I don’t know how I could just sleep with him and not want more, especially when the end goal is to get me pregnant.
We will have this tiny human, a part of me and a part of him, and how am I meant to just go on with my life without wishing for more from him.
I couldn’t do that to Noah.
And I can’t lose him either.
He is a vital part of me, a piece that keeps me ticking, and what if that clock just stops?
“Excuse me?” A loud, shrill voice cuts through my thoughts, startling me. I jump behind my desk, a thorn from the stem I was working on cutting into the pad of my finger. “Hello?”
“Shit,” I hiss, sucking my finger into my mouth as I scurry around the desk and out to the front of the shop, finding a rather red-faced woman huffing and puffing as she dings the little bell over and over again.
“I’m so sorry,” I wince, but she keeps slamming her hand on the bell, glaring at me.
“Some customer service this is,” she says above the ringing.
“You can stop that,” I try to put on my best, soft voice.
She rings it again.
“Ma’am,” I plead, “I apologize. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Well, I’ve been here for five whole minutes.”
“Again,” Ring, “I apologize.” Ring, “How can I help?” Ring.
The sound of the ding goes right through my skull, making my teeth ache as I grind my molars together.
“And I thought this was the best florist in the city.” She rolls her eyes.
Ring.
I snatch the bell off the counter and launch it behind me; the little metal object smashing into a vase and shattering it to pieces.
For a few long seconds, we stare at each other before a loud, rather boisterous laugh bursts from her. Her hand slaps down on the counter as she bends at the waist to continue laughing. Shock keeps me from making a sound or moving an inch, but I am wondering if I should call for help or something.
“Sorry, sorry,” she wipes the tears from under her eyes, a big grin pulling her mouth up and sinking even more lines in at the corners of her eyes. “You’re perfect.”
“Huh?” I shift uncomfortably.
“I never know how people will react,” her eyes are twinkling, “but yours is by far my favorite. I hope you weren’t fond of that vase.”
I look behind me, wincing at the glass scattered across the floor and the little bell sitting upside down in the middle of it.
“I’ll cover the cost of it,” she continues, “I’m actually here for my granddaughter.”
This entire exchange has left me beyond confused.
“She’s getting married, and well, the bride to be—love her to pieces, would die for her—can be a bit of a handful at times. She doesn’t mean it, but when she’s stressed, she gets a little snappy, if you know what I mean.”
I soften a little, “I mean, I can understand that. Who wouldn’t be stressed about their wedding?”
“I want to make sure the people we hire can handle their own.”
“So the ringing was you testing me?” My brows meet my hairline.
“Something like that,” she grins, “I’m trying to take a bit off her plate and offered to sort the flower arrangements and bouquets.”
“Right,” I nod, trying to keep up.
“She really is a wonderful human,” the woman continues, “She doesn’t mean it.”
“Okay.”
“Anyway, do you have availability for a wedding in three months?”
I cringe as I pull out my diary and flip through, wondering if I can fit something in. “How big?”
“She wants the chapel decorated, an arch, aisle ends, her reception hall and centerpieces, six bouquets, four for the bridesmaids, one for her maid of honor and then her own bouquet as well as pins for the groomsmen, six in total that side too, five groomsmen and the groom.”
That’s a lot of work and a lot of money.
“What’s the budget?”
“No budget,” she waves her hand.
“For that much, we could be looking at anywhere between five and ten thousand dollars; that depends highly on what flowers she wants. I can give you a breakdown of my starting costs.”
“No need,” she waves me off. “So she wants peonies, eucalyptus, and lily of the valley, but then she is open to other fillers.”
“Peonies are one of the more expensive choices, as well as lily of the valley,” I advise. “Is it just for the bouquet or for the whole arrangement?”
“The whole arrangement.”
This is easily going to be ten thousand, if not more. Holy shit.
It’s my biggest order yet.
If I adjusted my hours around the week of the wedding, worked later and started earlier, I could totally make it work.
“Alright,” I agree, “I can fit you in. I will need a full consultation with the bride, any inspiration pictures or color schemes, and a twenty-five percent deposit up front. It will be deducted from the final cost, but it is non-refundable.”
“Got it,” she grins, and I hand her over the forms to fill in.
“I’m Sidney, by the way,” I fidget as I wait for her to complete the paperwork.
“Betty,” the woman smiles just as the little bell above the door jingles.
Noah strolls in, dressed impeccably in his work suit, his dark hair styled.
It’s a contrast to how I left him yesterday morning, still in his boxers with his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions.
After that late-night chat in front of the windows, we both passed out on the couch, and I left in the morning to catch up on some life admin. I hadn’t seen him since. Not until now.
“Hey cricket,” his smile never fails to catch me off guard. He’s so damn beautiful it actually pisses me off.
“Hey,” I swallow, my mind immediately going back to his offer.
He would make such beautiful babies…
No.
Bad Sidney.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Betty practically swoons.
I mean, I get it because same. Noah has that effect on women; he always has, even back in high school when he was the bad boy with a chip on his shoulder. I’ve always felt a little smug about having him as my best friend, like I have some weird claim on him.
Newsflash, I don’t, and Noah’s been with plenty of beautiful women. Granted, it never moves past a single date or hookup, and I haven’t seen him with a woman for quite a long time.
I shake my head to clear that train of thought and look to my best friend as he offers his hand to Betty and gives her a charming smile. “Noah.”
Betty flutters her lashes and introduces herself back before he places a brown paper bag on the counter and gives me his attention.
“I figured you skipped lunch.” He says by way of explanation, “I had a meeting this way, so thought I’d drop it off for you.”
I melt, “Thank you.”
“Always,” he leans over the counter and presses a kiss to my cheek, “See you later?”
“Scotty’s?”
“Where else?” he smirks, walking backwards before he turns and leaves the shop.
Betty is still staring after him long after the door has closed.
“So, when’s the wedding?” She asks after a beat.
“Uh?” I glance at the paperwork and read the date she gave, “November fourteenth?”
“Not that one!” She shakes her head, “Yours.”
“Oh, I’m not getting married.” I shuffle the paper and place it in an envelope so I can put it with my other orders before I grab my card machine to be able to take her deposit.
“Well, why not?” She tuts, “The way that man looks at you, I’m shocked he hasn’t tied you down already.”
“Who? Noah?”
“Yes, Noah.”
“We’re just friends,” I correct her.
“Pssh, okay,” she rolls her eyes, “Whatever you say.”
“Ma’am—”
“Betty,” she corrects and slips her card into the machine.
“Really, we’re just friends.”
“If you say so.” She smiles. “Gotta run! I’ll be in touch about the consultation.”
After she’s left, I collapse down onto the stool. I should really clean up that glass, but Noah was right; I did skip lunch and now the smell of the food is making my stomach growl obnoxiously loud.
I already know he’s picked me up a burger from So, we’ve got buns and my mouth damn near waters before I’ve even pulled it from the bag. Just as I do, a note falls out with it.
Cricket,
How many times have I told you not to skip lunch? You get mean when you’re hungry.
The world can thank me later. Eat your burger with exactly three and a half pickles, the perfect pickle patty ratio, as you say.
See you later.
Love, Noah.
I chuckle as I pull out the burger, unwrapping before I peel away the top bun to check. Three and a half pickles on top of an even amount of mustard and ketchup with a single lettuce leaf and one tomato. My exact order.
That man can read me like a book.
If I could trust anyone with this, it would be him.
But it’s that what if…
What if I lose him?
What if I get my heart broken?
What if I fall so deeply in love with him and it all goes to shit?