Chapter Twenty-Four #2
At least Geoffrey taught me that, Bo thought.
If nothing else, I know how not to act when Max and I end.
Loving someone is beautiful, even if they never love you back.
Max told me that. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I do now.
So, even if he doesn’t love me back, even if he never loves me back, I can remember my love for him as the beautiful thing it is, and then, when I’ve moved on, as the beautiful thing it was.
“What happened to Madelief?” Bo suddenly asked, and Ida shrugged.
“I told you; we lost touch. I don’t know what happened to her.”
“Max wanted to know. About what happened between Madelief and Geoffrey.”
“You should tell him.”
“It isn’t my story to tell,” Bo replied, and Ida nodded thoughtfully.
“No. Nor mine. But Max is Geoffrey’s son. He should know about his father. Who he was and what he was like. Who knows, it might bring Max a kind of peace. You said he was estranged from Geoffrey?”
Bo nodded.
“No wonder, with a story like theirs. All the same, perhaps if Max knew more about what made Geoffrey the way he was, he might . . . not forgive him, that isn’t the right word. But it might help him understand him.”
Bo nodded, finishing her vodka in one neat gulp. She shuddered, and Ida laughed.
“You need to get better at drinking.”
“And you need to stop hiding vodka in your flower shop.”
“I will soon enough.” Ida paused, giving Bo a sideways glance. “I’m selling up, Bo.”
At that, Bo nearly dropped her empty mug. “What?”
Ida shrugged. “I’m selling up. I’m an old woman, and I’ve worked here all my life. It’s time for me to retire. Time for me to enjoy what life I’ve got left.”
“Ida,” Bo stammered, completely stunned. “You’re not old.”
“Says the twenty-six-year-old. I am old, Bo. I’ve got forty years on you and more. I’m finding the 4 a.m. wake-ups too hard these days. Dragging myself to New Covent Garden Market three times a week . . . flowers are a young person’s game.”
“But . . . but this has always been your shop,” Bo protested, and Ida nodded.
“It has. But it could be yours. If you want it.”
Bo paused, and in her silence, Ida refilled her mug.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. You’re good at this business, Bo. You’re an excellent florist and I think you’d be an excellent businesswoman too. You know this shop inside and out and the customers love you.”
“But I can’t afford to buy you out,” Bo instantly returned, before she thought a moment. “Actually,” she said slowly, “in a few months, I will be able to afford it.”
“Exactly. The timing is perfect. I’ll stay on for a bit, help you get settled in. Not that I think you’ll need it. I’ll be reasonable with the value of the business too. You know how I love this place. I’d never leave it to just anyone.”
Bo sat back. “Can I think about it?”
Ida smiled. “Of course you can. Think about it seriously though, okay? You said it yourself: you’re a bad actress.”
“Don’t sugarcoat that or anything,” Bo retorted drily, and Ida grinned.
“You know what I mean. You’re pretty, I’m not saying you’re not. But that prettiness doesn’t translate onto the stage or screen. It translates into here,” Ida poked Bo’s chest. “And into this . . . I don’t know, vibrancy you’ve got going on.”
Vibrant. That was the word Max had used too. For a moment, Bo missed him so much she could hardly breathe.
“Think about it, okay? You’ve got plenty of time to let me know too. I’m not offering the business to anyone else just yet. You’ve got first refusal.”
Bo nodded slowly.
“And Bo? Please message Max. I’m tired of seeing you so woebegone. Message him. Tell him how you feel. Tell him about Madelief. Tell him whatever.” Ida poked her again, giving her a look full of meaning. “Just message him.”
* * *
Bo picked up her phone when she got home, a little drunk, a little bewildered, and more than a little terrified.
Ida was right though. She needed to do this.
Steeling her nerves, she opened the last message Max sent her. Thinking for a moment, she chewed on her lip, working out her reply. She couldn’t very well type out, ‘Max, I love you, please come back’, could she? Or could she?
She was still thinking, still chewing on her lip, when her phone vibrated in her hand. It was probably Uber Eats, offering her twenty per cent off her next curry. Or maybe it was Willa, wanting to know about her day.
Bo looked down, and her stomach sank. It wasn’t Uber Eats. It wasn’t Willa.
No. It was Max.
Max Fitzroy: I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’m bringing my friends. We’ve decided to have the party at Geoffrey’s house. We’ll try and keep the noise down.
That was it. Nothing else. No references to his oblique message of a few days previous. No references to their relationship, or current lack of one. No references to the romantic, amazing and passionate sex they’d had just before he left. Just a courtesy message, short and to the point.
Well, she could be short and to the point too.
Bo: I miss you
She thought for a moment, then deleted the message before she had the nerve to press send.