Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Something Worth Saving
Lilly
The morning light was pale, early gold, making everything feel softer than it really was.
I pulled into my usual spot outside Bloom I laughed. The cheerful tone in her message practically sparkled off the screen.
She wrote that she and Joe were “over the moon” about their daughter Jaqie’s wedding coming up in a few weeks, and she wanted me—no one else, of course—to handle the flowers.
Jaqie had always loved my arrangements at church and the way I decorated the pumpkin patch at the feed store each fall.
“You made hay bales look like art,” Millie had written.
“Joe,” she added, “had been bragging so much about his beautiful daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law, he might explode before she says, ‘I do.’”
My chest loosened enough for a real smile for the first time in 24 hours.
I dialed Millie’s number without even thinking. She picked up on the second ring. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite florist!”
“Morning, Millie,” I said, already smiling. “I just got your email. Congratulations! A wedding—how exciting.”
“Oh, it’s something all right,” she said with a laugh. “Joe’s prouder than a peacock and twice as nervous. He’s been practicing his walk down the aisle in the kitchen. Nearly tripped over the dog last night.”
I chuckled, picturing it. “That sounds about right for Joe.”
“I told him to stick to selling feed and let me handle the wedding chaos. Anyway, I’m bringing you some banana bread fresh from the oven. Thought we could talk flowers and save my husband from a panic attack.”
“Banana bread sounds exactly like what I need,” I said.
“Half an hour, hon,” she promised. “And don’t you dare make hot tea—I’m bringing mine.”
True to her word, the door whooshed open thirty minutes later. Millie bustled in, smelling faintly of cinnamon and sunshine. A foil-wrapped loaf and a thermos were tucked neatly into a basket, and her reading glasses were perched on top of her head.
“Joe sent me because he’s too nervous even to pick a tie,” she said, setting the banana bread down on the counter. “He’s at the feed store telling every poor soul that’ll listen how he’s about to marry off his baby girl.”
“That sounds like Joe,” I said, laughing softly as I unwrapped the loaf and poured the tea.
The scent hit me—warm, sweet, comforting.
I cut us each a slice and handed Millie her teacup, and we settled around the design table, surrounded by color swatches, fabric samples, and my half-scribbled notes.
We easily discussed the details—what flowers Jaqie loved, how many tables they’d need centerpieces for, and whether the bridesmaids’ dresses were really blush or more of a dusty rose. Millie had that kind of easygoing energy that made time slip by.
She talked about Jaqie’s fiancé, a soft-spoken guy from over in Boseman, and how Joe still couldn’t talk about the wedding without his throat tightening.
“That girl’s had him wrapped around her finger since she learned to walk,” she said fondly.
“Still calls him ‘Daddy’ when she’s nervous.
He’s pretending not to melt every time she does it. ”
The words hit something tender in me. The image of a father proud and flustered for his daughter stirred a pang I hadn’t expected. I forced a smile, focusing on jotting down flower names instead of the ache blooming in my chest.
“I think ivory roses, soft pink peonies, and pale green eucalyptus would suit her,” Millie said after a moment, looking satisfied. “Soft, pretty, nothing fussy. Like our girl.”
“That’ll be beautiful,” I agreed, writing it down. “I’ll order the supplies I’ll need to get started this afternoon to make sure everything’s perfect.”
Millie nodded, then reached into her purse for her checkbook. She wrote out the deposit, handed it over, and squeezed my hand across the table. “You just keep doing what you do, Lilly,” she said warmly. “The rest always works itself out.”
“Thanks, Millie.”
She smiled, tucking her glasses back onto her head. “Tell Joe I said good luck with that tie,” I added.
“Oh, he’ll need it.” She laughed and waved as she turned for the door.
As it closed behind her, I stood there for a moment, watching sunlight spill across the counter, the scent of banana bread lingering. Things had started to feel almost normal again for the first time in what felt like forever.
Soon, the afternoon light slanted through the front windows, warming the counter where Millie and I had sat earlier. I wanted to hold on to that easy, hopeful feeling she had left behind, so I threw myself into work before the quiet could turn heavy again.
I pulled my notepad closer, jotting down what I’d need for the first round of orders—glass vases, ivory ribbon, floral foam, and the basics. It felt good to focus on something normal. Something I could control.
I called my wholesaler, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Hi, this is Lilly Mitchell from Bloom & Vine. I just need to restock for an upcoming wedding—same account as usual. I added a new credit card a while back.”
The woman on the other end recognized my name immediately. “Of course, Lilly. Let me run your card on file.”
The faint sound of typing filled the pause. Then the woman’s tone softened. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mitchell, but the charge didn’t go through.”
My heart dipped, a slow, sinking pull. Of course it didn’t. I’d only sent half the minimum payment a few weeks ago—just enough to buy time. I hadn’t had enough to send the rest, and now the month was up.
“Right,” I said quietly, throat tight. “That makes sense. I’ll call back.”
Before she could reply, I hung up.
The silence that followed pressed hard against my chest. I stared at the phone, shame curling low in my belly. I’d known I was falling behind, but hearing it out loud made it real.
Sunny stirred from her nap and came to nudge my leg. I crouched, running my hand over her silky fur. “I’m okay,” I whispered, though my voice cracked slightly.
The tears came anyway—quiet at first, then harder—until the shop blurred and the only sound left was the soft rhythm of Sunny’s breathing beside me.
The front door opened, and the sudden draft stirred the refreshing scent of the shop swirling around me. I straightened quickly, swiping at my eyes with a crumpled tissue. Probably another customer, I thought—someone wanting a last-minute bouquet or a refill for a standing order.
But then I heard his boots on the floorboards, that steady, deliberate sound I’d already memorized.
Sawyer.
He stepped inside with that quiet confidence that always filled a room, but his easy smile faltered the second he saw my face. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
I shook my head fast, trying to find words that didn’t sound pathetic. “No, our baby’s fine.” I hesitated, a humorless laugh catching in my throat. “I’m just… stuck. My card got declined, and I can’t pay for the supplies I need to get started with a large order.”
For a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then: “Call them back.”
“What?”
“Call them back,” he repeated, already reaching for his wallet.
“Sawyer—”
He didn’t look up. “Just do it.”
Too stunned to argue, I picked up the phone and dialed the wholesaler’s number again.
My hands trembled so badly that I almost dropped it.
When the rep answered, I barely managed, “Hi, it’s Lilly Mitchell again.
One second, please.” I handed the phone to Sawyer, my pulse thudding so hard it felt like it filled the room.
He took it, his voice calm and even. “Hi there. This is Sawyer James. From now on, any orders placed by Bloom & Vine can be charged to this card.” He read off the numbers with that same easy authority he used when fixing anything that seemed beyond repair.
There was no hesitation or drama—just quiet confidence.
When he hung up and turned toward me, I didn’t know what to say. Gratitude and humiliation twisted together in my chest. “Thank you,” I whispered finally. “I’ll pay you back.”
He smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
For a moment, the only sound was the faint thump of Sunny’s tail against the floor. Then he reached out, brushed his thumb along my cheek where a tear had escaped, and said softly, “You don’t have to do this alone, Lilly.”
And just like that, the air between us felt different—steady, certain, and maybe safe for the first time in days.
Sawyer tucked his card back into his wallet and watched me for a beat. Then, in his calm, matter-of-fact voice, he said, “Monique has an opening this afternoon—late. She’ll see me and said she’ll see us both if you’re up for the drive to Billings.”
I blinked, unsure I’d heard him right. “You want me to come?”
He nodded. “I think we both could use it.”
Something in me loosened, the tension I’d been carrying since yesterday easing just a little. Hope rose through the heaviness in my chest—not big and dramatic, but quiet and steady, the kind that felt like breathing again after holding your breath too long.
I nodded, feeling the sting of tears, but this time they weren’t from sadness. “Okay,” I whispered. “Yeah… I’d like that.”
Sawyer pushed away from the counter, crossed to the front door, and flipped the sign from Open to Closed. He glanced back over his shoulder, grinning a little. “Come on, Lilly. Let’s go.”
As I grabbed my purse and called Sunny to follow me, I caught my reflection in the window—a woman still scared, still uncertain, but standing on her own two feet.
Maybe this was what starting over looked like. Not running. Not pretending. Just two people, finally ready to face what came next together.