Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
M aggie
It’s been two days since my day date with Damien. Although, it doesn’t really count as a date if it wasn’t planned. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself so I can get around the two-date rule. And it’s not like I don’t want to sleep with him. I have a fucking pulse, for Pete’s sake, and if you’re into men, when it comes to Damien Sizemore, a pulse would be all that is required.
“Earth to Maggie!”
I look up to see Hannah staring at me with a look of minor irritation. “Yes, Hannah. What is it?”
“Devonna is on the phone about the Baxter wedding. She’s insisting that we have to provide at least three peonies per centerpiece… twenty-five in total.”
I laugh at that. “We can do that… if she’s willing to accept the new estimate that will have to accompany it. It will increase the price of the centerpieces from two thousand to twenty-eight hundred.” And that will go over like a lead balloon.
Hannah just hands me the phone. “I’m not telling her that. She scares me.”
Devonna Harris scares a lot of people. She’s the wedding planner in the region. All the wealthiest families—and in horse and bourbon country, there are a number of them—use her for all their weddings, Derby parties, and other events that are way too rich for my blood. But, even though she’s thrown a lot of business my way, I’m not going to take a loss on this to keep her happy.
Twenty minutes later, we’re in agreement for two peonies per centerpiece and some extra greenery for a grand total of twenty-five hundred. But I feel like I’ve been through a battle to get that.
“That was some pretty impressive negotiating.”
I know that voice. Glancing up, I meet Emma Willett’s amused expression with one of exasperation. “It was not impressive. I definitely got the short end of the stick.”
“Honey, it’s Devonna. A pack of rabid pit bulls couldn’t get the long end of the stick from her if she didn’t want to hand it to them,” Emma says with a laugh. “But I’m here to order some flowers, not talk about my high school nemesis.”
“Really? Now I want to talk about her even more!”
“I’m hosting a small gathering for Cody’s senior players and their families,” she says. “Nothing too over the top or fancy. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable, but I still want it to be pretty. Ten tables in total.”
“School colors are burgundy and white?” I ask. When she nods, I continue, “So we do one large wine-colored dahlia, some carnations, white daisies, some tree fern and Cocculus for greenery… I can do ten of those for you for around six hundred, if that works. If not, I can do some number crunching for some less expensive options.”
“No. That sounds wonderful. My plan is to send the arrangements home with each of the boys’ mothers. Some of these kids have single moms who probably never get fresh-cut flowers. I don’t want to skimp on these.”
“Date?”
“Two weeks from today… I know I’m cutting it close.” She pauses to rest her hands on the very prominent curve of her very, very pregnant belly. “And this one’s due two weeks after that. I’m cutting it close on a lot of things.”
I blink. Holy Jesus, is she ever! But it’s doable, presuming she doesn’t have the kid between now and then. “I think I can manage it.”
“Good… Oh, we’re having a barbecue tomorrow evening. I know you close early on Wednesdays, right?”
I don’t know where this is going, but I feel like it’s probably not good. “Yeah.”
“You should come. Damien will be there… he’s our neighbor. And there’s been a lot of buzz in our group chat about the two of you.”
“Why?”
Emma laughs. “Don’t be upset. It’s all good. Lizzie saw you guys together the other day, then Troy mentioned he’d put you in touch with Damien for a legal issue… but it was pretty obvious from what Lizzie said that you all were not together in a professional capacity… For what it’s worth, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. And I’d love to see him find someone that makes him happy.”
That explains how she knew about me and him. “I don’t know that we’re in a couples’ activities spot just yet.”
“So don’t come as a couple,” she says. “Five o’clock. And bring your swimsuit. Cody opened the pool yesterday and has had the heat cranked up in it. Fingers crossed it's ready by tomorrow.”
When Emma leaves, Hannah throws a balled-up piece of ribbon at me. “You’re dating Damien Sizemore and you didn’t tell me?”
“You’re my employee, Hannah. We’re not besties,” I remind her.
“Girl, if I was going out with someone as hot as Damien Sizemore, I would be shouting it from the rooftops. That man is fine. F. I. N. E. Fine.”
You chose this. You picked a small town because you wanted connections to people. You wanted a life where you weren’t completely isolated from everyone around you by a dickhead of an ex-husband.
“Take the delivery to Stephenson’s,” I tell her.
“The funeral isn’t till tonight.”
“Take the delivery, Hannah. I’ll finish up here.”
When she leaves, my cell phone rings in the pocket of my apron. When I pull it out and glance at the screen, it takes every ounce of strength I have to force myself to answer. And I only do that because I know she will just call back until I do. “Hi, Mom!”
“Margaret,” she says. “I wanted to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine, Mom. How are you?” We talk to each other like strangers.
“I’m quite well, dear. I just thought, in light of recent developments, I should check in on you.” She waits a beat for me to ask her about these recent developments, but when I don’t take the bait, she sighs. “I certainly never imagined that Cal would move on so soon after the divorce. Certainly, I never expected that he’d announce his engagement! It hasn’t even been a year! When I saw it in the papers, I just thought you must be so upset.”
“It hasn’t been a year since the divorce was finalized, Mom, but Cal and I separated three years ago… and I don’t care. He can marry whoever he wants to. And I will pray for her, because she’s going to need it.”
“Margaret—”
The bell over the door jingles again and I see Damien standing in the doorway. I’m batting a motherfucking thousand today. “Mom, I have to go. A customer just walked in.”
“Well, let your assistant?—”
“She’s on a delivery, Mom. Loveyoubye.”
He points up at the old-fashioned bell on the door. “Saved by the bell has never been more obvious. I’m not even sure you’d finished speaking before hanging up.”
I shrug. “Things with my mom are… complicated.” Mostly because she thinks I should have tolerated habitual infidelity, manipulation, gaslighting, and the slow crushing of my soul for the sake of financial security. But I’m not ready to tell him all that. “What are you doing here?”
He leans down and smells some of the roses that are in a bucket on the counter, then shakes his head. “They don’t smell as good as I expected. They don’t really smell at all.”
“Lots of modern hybrid roses don’t. And you didn’t answer my question.”
He puts his hands in the pockets of his pants. His cuffs are rolled back, showing off tanned forearms. The suit jacket is gone and the tie is a memory, probably draped over something in his office. “I saw Emma and she told me she invited you. And I don’t want you to feel pressured by my friends into making some sort of public appearance that you don’t feel ready for.”
I’m a little relieved and a little insulted. “Are you worried about me feeling uncomfortable, or you?”
He shakes his head. “I know Calvin. Known that asshole my whole life long. Never could stand him, and he’s never done anything to change my mind. So, while I don’t know all the ways your ex fucked you over, Maggie—and you don’t have to tell me because you’re entitled to privacy—there’s no way in hell you came out of it unscathed.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
He shakes his head. “This is all personal, but I’m not here about your ex. I’m gonna tell you something so there’s no misunderstanding… I’m not looking for some casual thing with you. No fuck buddies. No friends with benefits. I like you. And I don’t give a fuck who knows it… As for this barbecue… there’s a small chance I’ll get to see you in a bikini. That alone should tell you how much I’m hoping you’ll show up.”
“Do I need to bring a side dish?” I don’t know why I asked it. I don’t even know that I actually made the decision to go. But it’s out there now and I can’t take it back.
“Only if you want to… I’ll pick you up at three. No court tomorrow.”