15. Jovie
JOVIE
The door to the shop rings and I jump, thinking Santino has found me. Ever since I stopped all communications with him, there’s been a pit in my stomach. I know I’m not going to get away with what I did. I’m on borrowed time.
“Hey, Ms. Morgan!” Jared, the mailman waves at me with a big bright smile on his face.
I raise my hands in the air, covered in soil.
I also plant my own flowers. It’s my goal to renovate the backyard into a beautiful garden and I can cut and sell my own flowers, eventually.
“I’m afraid I’m a mess, Jared. Am I good at making bouquets?
Yes. Do I have a green thumb? Eh, I’m working on it. ”
Jared’s loud chuckle has me smile. He runs his fingers through his thick white beard, reminding me of Santa Clause.
“You’ll figure it out. It took my Missy nearly her whole life to perfect her garden.
Takes the time you’re willing to give it.
No one is ever perfect at anything. As long as you keep going, you’ll know more than someone else. ”
I beam at him, wiping my hands on a ruined towel. “Thank you, Jared. So? Any good mail for me?”
He knows what I’m asking about.
Last year, I applied to go to the largest flower shows in the country.
It’s a great networking opportunity to work with the best flower vendors, win a chance at one hundred thousand dollars, and be a florist for a celebrity’s wedding.
I mean, only the best of the best gets to go to this show and only the best of everyone wins.
Acceptance letters went out a few months ago and I haven’t received mine yet. I have tried to not think about it and push it into the back of my mind, doing my best to forget about it. I’m young and the chances of being invited are slim to none.
Still, I can’t hide the smallest flame of hope that has dared to continue to flicker about it.
He slaps the stack of mail against his other palm, placing the envelopes on the counter. “You know, I think there might be.”
My heart drops into my stomach and I forget how to breathe while I stand over a messy ground riddled with soil. My mouth hangs open. My hands are in the air. Soil is trapped under my nails. I don’t know what to do.
“Well!” He huffs. “I haven’t waited this long for you to freeze up now! Open it!” Jared demands, pushing the envelopes across the counter even though I’m in the back room. “Jovie!”
His booming voice snaps me out of my haze, and I swallow, looking around to see where my feet are.
Under me. Right.
Everything is fine. It’s only one of the biggest—or the biggest—moment of my life. Right now would be a good time for my legs to work.
Jared’s face softens when he finally understands why I’m not moving. He checks his watch for the time and takes off the big hat he wears to protect himself from the sun, then walks towards me, taking my dirty hands in his.
“It’s going to be okay, Kiddo. If it says no, then you apply again. And if that is a no, you apply again. You never stop applying. You never stop trying. It only takes one yes.” He boops my nose and he grins, his rosy plump cheeks nearly taking over his entire face.
“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to look. I’ve waited so long. I sent photos of my best work, and I’ve gotten better since last year, so what if…” I wipe the stray tear that has managed to crawl from my eye. “What if I wasn’t good enough then, but I am now, and it’s all too late?”
“Oh, Kiddo,” he pats my hand with his old, wrinkled one. “It’s never too late. I take that back.”
I frown, not liking the change of direction.
“It’s too late when you’re dead and in the ground.
It’s too late if you’re on your death bed, wishing you could have done all the dreams you’ve set out to do.
Then, it’s too late. You’re so young. Look what you’ve accomplished.
I knew your mother and your grandmother, and they would have been so proud of you.
You keep this business up and running. You’re successful.
And you don’t need some uppity flower show to tell you anything about your worth. You’re already standing in your worth.”
I smile, giving my favorite mailman a hug. “Thanks, Jared. I really needed to hear that.” And I did. I can’t remember the last time someone who’s a parental figure said anything like that to me. Probably right around my parents died.
“Now, wipe your tears. Head up.” He tilts my chin up. “Shoulders back.” He fixes my posture. “Go open the letter and then we move on.”
“And then, we move on.” I agree with him, blowing out breath. I take a step forward, slow and steady, my legs carrying me to the front desk. “There’s always next year,” I tell myself, my heart slamming against my chest with nerves.
Jared comes around the desk, bouncing on his toes in excitement. “Open it. Go on. Open it.”
I toss the bills to the side, hating that they send me paper statements when I know I sign up for paperless. I’m starting to think the letter isn’t in here with how much slush I have to go through.
It’s the last envelope in the stack.
The bell dings again and Marlowe comes in with our usual coffee orders to have lunch together.
“Jared!” She smiles at him.
I hardly ever see her smile, but everyone loves Jared.
“How are you? How is the missus? I haven’t seen you delivering mail in a few weeks. I’ve been missing you. The other mailman isn’t not as fun.” She shoves a finger in her mouth, pretending to gag.
Jared chuckles. “Aw, my favorite goth missed me? I’m honored.”
“You should be.” She nudges him. “I’ll make your usual when you’re done here unless you don’t drink caffeine anymore.”
He pats his round stomach. “Of course. I need it to finish my route! But not yet. Ms. Morgan got the letter today.”
Marlowe gasps with more excitement than I have ever seen from her. She sets down the drinks. “The letter?”
“The letter,” I confirm, holding up the envelope.
“The letter that I wasn’t allowed to even ask about over the last year? The same one?”
I deadpan her with an incredulous look. “Obviously.”
“Well, open it! I’ve waited too long!” Marlowe practically shouts.
“It’s what I keep telling her. I have to get back on my route soon before I get fired,” Jared chimes in.
“Okay. Okay. I’m doing it.” I stare at the thin, rectangular white envelope. “It should be thicker, right? If I got accepted, it would be a big envelope.”
“This isn’t a college acceptance letter, Jovie. It’s a yes or no to an event. It doesn’t need an envelope. If you don’t open it within the next ten seconds, I’m going to burn it, and then we will never know.”
I tear into the letter because I know Marlowe is serious. She carries a lighter in her pocket all the time. She doesn’t smoke but others do and, in her words, ‘You never know when someone will need a light.’
I toss the shredded paper over my shoulder and unfold the letter.
“Dear Ms. Jovie Morgan,” I begin to read, my hands shaking so much, the paper trembles.
“We are happy to inform—” My voice becomes louder with excitement.
“That you have been accepted into the Floral Show of 2026!” I slap the letter down on the counter and cry, unable to hide my relief.
“I got in! I got in!” I scream, jumping up and down.
Jared and Marlowe join in on the celebration. They encompass me in a hug, spinning me in a circle as we continue to jump.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” I wipe under my eyes, rereading the letter again to make sure the words haven’t changed. “I’m going to my first ever Floral Show.”
“Keep reading! What else does it say?” Marlowe asks, looping her arm through Jared’s.
My eyes skim the page until I find what I’m looking for. “The theme is an enchanted night.”
“Oh my God, you’re going to win this thing! Enchanted night is you!” Marlowe says, snagging the letter from me. “You’ve got this in the bag. This money is practically yours.”
“There are going to be a hundred other people there. I’m going to be going up against the best in the world.
I’m honored to even be invited. Imagine, though?
I can expand the business or expand this one, buy the building beside me because it’s for sale, hire a few people to finally help me, I mean, this would change everything.
I’m so exhausted doing this all by myself. ”
“I’m so proud of you, kiddo.” Jared gives me a big hug, squeezing me tight. “I have to go, but I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it.”
“Thank you. Give Missy my love. Here.” I give him a beautiful red rose to give to his wife. “Tell her it’s from you.”
He grins, showing off those plump cheeks again. “Saving marriages one flower at a time should be your slogan. Thanks, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow. And I’m very proud of you. Marlowe, I want my coffee.”
“I’ll meet you over there, old man.”
“Old,” he scoffs, hobbling away. “I’ll show you old.”
Jared heads to Marlowe’s café, leaving me alone with my best friend.
Her long tipped, black-painted nails curl around my hand. “I’m proud of you too. I knew you could do it. You do everything you set your mind to, Jovie. You are amazing and this is proof. You better frame it. Let’s celebrate. Let’s go out this weekend.”
“Yeah, okay. That sounds like a lot of fun. I can’t wait.”
“Good. I’ll be back. Let me go make Santa his coffee. He’s so demanding,” she rolls her eyes, but I know how much she adores him.
It takes awhile to nudge your way into Marlowe’s heart, but once she opens it, you’re there to stay.
The door rings as she exits, leaving me all by myself with my letter. I still can’t believe it. I press my hand against my heated cheek, rereading the page. It’s simple. It doesn’t look special at all, but to me, it’s everything.
The door jingles again and I look up to ask Marlowe what she forgot when the smile on my face falls so fast, it’s as if the happiness never happened.
“Santino,” I whisper in pure fear. His name is shaken as it leaves my lips.
I fold the letter and slide it into my pocket as he stands in front of the door.
Even though he’s terrifying, I can’t seem to take my eyes off his stunning form.
His dark hair is a bit messy and a sheen of sweat shines on his face.
His clothing is impeccable, the blue suit tailored to fit his every muscle, stretched over his broad shoulders.
The blazer is trimmed, showing his lean waist.
I remember what’s under those fine, expensive suits.
A beautiful hard body that I dream of. He’s always on my mind, night, and day. He’s consumed all of my desire and fear. He’s standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. His chest his heaving and there is so much anger in his eyes. The usual green irises are as dark as storms.
He locks the door and flips the sign to closed.
“Don’t question me. Don’t speak to me. Get your things. You’re coming home with me, and don’t you dare say a word,” he warns or threatens, I can’t tell, through clenched teeth.
I gasp as my nightmare comes true.
He knows.