5. Ivy
IVY
ONE WEEK LATER
S weat trickles down my temple, and I swipe it away with my forearm, trying not to smear soil across my face in the process. Though, that’s not an unusual look for me most days, since I’d rather spend them here than in the main store area behind the counter.
Working in the greenhouse this time of year can be stifling, but with certain plants—like this orchid—it’s a necessary evil. And I’ll happily suffer in here rather than do it alone at home like I have been for weeks.
Marlo seems unbothered by the heat and humidity, sitting in the plastic chair with her booted feet kicked up on the planting table, popping Cool Ranch Doritos into her mouth as she watches me work on repotting.
I cast a pointed look in her direction. “You could help, you know?”
She scowls at me and crunches on another chip. “I could, but you’re the one who said you needed to come into work this week. That you needed the distraction and to get things back to normal. I’m also on my break , which I am legally entitled to.”
One of her blond brows rises haughtily at me.
Goddamn her for actually listening to me.
And for being right about the break.
I point a dirty-gloved finger at her. “You’re right. I did say that, but that was not an invitation for you to slack off and do zero work now that I’m back. Remember that.”
She smirks victoriously and returns to her snack, rocking on the rear feet of the chair as she scans the greenhouse and the few customers milling around the front portion where we keep the plants and flowers for sale.
I roll my eyes and get back to working on loosening the roots. Hopefully, Gladys will do better in this larger pot. The thought of potentially losing Mom’s last orchid is too much to even consider right now.
No more death.
Even if Gladys is only a plant.
At almost fifteen years old, she’s reaching the end of her lifespan.
I don’t think Nonni or Mom ever got one to last longer than this, and even almost a decade after Nonni passed and five years since Mom did, this last tangible piece of their lives and their passion for this place has come to mean more to me than it probably should.
If it finally dies, I don’t think I could handle it.
As it is, I’m barely getting out of bed. Barely getting dressed. Barely making it in to the shop. And I’ve mostly kept myself tucked away in the greenhouse or back rooms of the store, avoiding having to deal with customers because I can’t yet.
The tears seem to come whenever they want to. Often, when I’m not even thinking about Drew. I’ll just find a wet drop on my hand and realize I’m crying again. And I do not want to do that in front of a customer.
Bad for business.
Many have been coming here for all their gardening needs for decades, and over the years, they have grown accustomed to Nonni and Mom’s bright, sunny dispositions.
The way mine used to be.
Before.
Back when I enjoyed this. Enjoyed work. Enjoyed laughter and food and good wine. Enjoyed life.
None of it feels right anymore.
Like I shouldn’t be living every day while Drew just…isn’t.
When I know I’m going to return home to that empty house where his big, vibrant personality used to take up so much space.
Even now, the sound of customers chatting outside on the main sales floor and wandering between the aisles in the greenhouse makes me shift restlessly on my feet.
Crawling back under the covers and hiding away from the world that seems to want to hurt me so badly still feels like a really good alternative. Even though I’ve forced myself to be here, to try to take baby steps forward since that night.
Something about Cam’s sudden arrival and abrupt departure left me reeling in a way that left me two choices—either I was going to allow myself to fully tip over that edge into the bottomless black abyss, or I was going to start working my way toward more stable ground.
I hope I made the right choice…
Marlo starts rocking back and forth, still on the rear two legs of the chair, completely unbothered by the noise and chaos that is Buds & Blooms in the early summer.
She is on her break, so I guess I can’t give her too much shit, even though I want to— badly.
Because being around Marlo helps. At least, temporarily.
Her sharp tongue and good humor are about the only things that haven’t sent me into tears over the last several weeks.
For a few brief seconds when I’m with her, I can almost forget how much has changed, how my life crumbled without explanation.
The way this soil is falling away from the roots as I clean them and get them ready for the new, bigger home that will hopefully help Gladys live happily for many years to come.
Marlo’s rocking stills, and all four legs of the chair drop with a thunk against the concrete floor. Her hazel eyes widen at something behind me, and her jaw slides open. “Hooooooly shit .”
“What?”
She glances at me, then back to whatever waits at the front of the greenhouse.
I quickly peek over my shoulder, expecting to find an unruly customer or someone trying to steal, but all the air rushes from my lungs.
My spine stiffens, my entire body seizing up completely.
Camden stands just inside the door of the greenhouse.
Another black T-shirt pulls taut across his heavily muscled chest and biceps, showing off an intricate tattoo of one dark and one light snake entwined on his left arm that I never got a good look at last week.
The same gray jeans hang perfectly from his trim hips as he saunters closer in black biker boots.
Each step he takes echoes off the glass walls and ceiling, seeming to fill the space the same way his energy does.
He swings his leather jacket over his shoulder and hooks it on his right thumb, making his bicep bulge as he approaches, his piercing gaze locked squarely on me.
“Jesus, Ivy…” Marlo gapes. “You told me he looked like Drew, but not that he looked like Drew if he went to prison instead of medical school.”
I whip my head toward her. “Oh, my God. Will you shut up?”
She smirks, never taking her eyes off him as he approaches—and looking like she wants to devour every inch of him. “No, I won’t. He’s fucking scary hot .”
“ Marlo !” I hiss at her as quietly as I can. “ Stop. It. ”
Shrugging, she leans back in her chair again. “What? He is. What’s he doing here?”
Messing with my ability to think.
My brain spins wildly, the same way it did that night he appeared on my doorstep.
Why is he here?
That all-too-familiar vise tightens around my chest, and I try to breathe through it, clenching my gloved hands tightly at my sides and squeezing my eyes closed.
Remember the differences.
The hair.
The nose ring.
The earrings.
The tattoos.
The eyes.
Don’t think about how much he looks like him or how much you begged God to see Drew just one more time.
It never occurred to me what seeing Drew’s face—again—might actually do to me after asking for it every day through strangled sobs. I never imagined being granted that gift would become such a source of agony.
Which is what it has been for the past week.
Worrying that he’d show up on my doorstep again.
Thinking about calling Nancy to let her know he’s back.
Questioning why he’s in Philadelphia at all when he has no intention of letting his mother know about his return.
Picturing his face and those tortured eyes.
Wondering what made them that way when Drew’s were always so bright and filled with love for me and life.
After how awkward and tense our conversation was that night and the way it left me feeling so off-kilter, I had figured—and deep down hoped —Cam would go about his life and avoid me altogether.
Guess I was wrong.
“Ivy?” Marlo’s voice finally makes me shake my head and tug off my gloves, wiping my sweaty palms on my apron.
“I don’t know why he’s here. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since he left my house the other night.”
And part of me wishes he wasn’t approaching me now.
There are too many questions.
Too many things left unsaid, unexplained.
Given how he acted when he was sitting across from me, he doesn’t seem inclined to offer me anything but more turmoil and frustration. But I can’t exactly run and hide at this point, even if literally burying my head in the dirt in front of me doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Cam’s heavy steps stop behind me, and I can’t avoid him any longer—no matter how much I may want to.
I cautiously turn to face him and find only a few feet separating us.
He offers me a tight smile, his gaze wary as it sweeps over my face. “Hey…”
“Um, hi. What are you doing here?”
He scans all the flowers in the greenhouse, before returning his gaze to mine. “Flower shopping?”
The corners of my lips twitch up, despite my unease at seeing him again and how uncomfortable it seems to be for him, too.
What happened the other night was so damn awkward.
I wasn’t sure how to handle it—handle him —not with all the questions Drew created for me about him, or the ones Cam brought the second he walked through my door. Not to mention the way my heart and body seem to react to seeing him, seeing Drew in him, even when I know they’re two different people.
And with him standing in front of me in bright daylight, it seems even worse.
He really does look exactly like Drew…
If Drew had gone to prison instead of medical school.
As annoyed as I am with Marlo’s description, she isn’t exactly wrong.
Drew’s hair was always slicked back and perfectly in place, along with his ever-present, easygoing smile.
But the man in front of me is disheveled.
Thick, black locks falling across his forehead, his eyes still holding that haunting darkness they did when he sat across from me in my house the other night.
Even the daylight can’t fix that.
He locks that troubled gaze with mine. “I wanted to apologize for what happened…”