Chapter Two
Evie
I pull into the first spot on the left side of the parking lot. It’s not marked as mine, but it’s mine. I’ve parked here every morning for the past five years and I swear people subconsciously avoid the space. Even my sister Grace knows well enough to stay away, and she’s really into bugging the hell out of me.
“Did you forget about the rose delivery we got this morning? They’re miniature roses. They’re gonna go bad sitting outside.” Her tone is curt and aggressive, but I don’t take it personally. She’s always been like this. I think it’s her way of dealing with the rest of our oppressive life.
“Yes, Grace. I saw it. You know you could bring them in too. I’ve been busy making arrangements for the wedding all morning.”
Her eyes roll to the side and she stares at me as though I’ve lost my mind. It’s not a new look. It’s one I get all the time lately. “What are you doing?”
I bite back a smile and shake my head, carefully adjusting the space between a few lilies and some greenery. “What are you doing?”
She sits on the bench next to me as I continue to work. “I mean it. What are you doing? Are you really happy?”
I drag in a deep breath as I move the flowers around and around, trying to find the perfect spot for a button pom. “Yeah,” my stomach aches as the words leave my lips.
“That wasn’t convincing,” Grace presses. “I’m serious. Dad has been pushing this wedding since day one, but you’ve managed to drag it out for five years. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s sure of what she wants.”
Sometimes when I think about the years, the math doesn’t track. How could it have been five years since I last talked to him? Five years since I last felt his touch? Five years since I shared a slice of pie with a man I knew deep down was my forever?
My chest aches as I slide the green pom into place. “I’m sure Leon is the right guy for me. He’s smart, he’s successful, and he makes me happy.”
Grace laughs and glances around the room as though we’re putting on a play for a crowd. “And that’s bullshit, folks. Complete and udder bullshit.”
“How is that bullshit?” My chest tightens as I speak. I know it’s bullshit, but I don’t understand how my sister knows it’s bullshit. I don’t tell anyone about the arguments Leon and I have or about the way he treats me behind closed doors. Talking about it out loud would make everything so complicated.
“I know who Leon is, Evie. I’m not stupid. Dad always picks the same guys.”
“What are you talking about?” I turn back to the cooler and set the vase onto the wire shelf before returning my attention back to the second arrangement.
“Do we really have to pretend that Leon isn’t treating you like shit? I mean, I know you think you’re being quiet about it, but I saw him hitting on that girl when we all went to dinner last weekend.” Her brows narrow as she says, “What was that about?”
I shrug it off as I gather a group of lilies in my hand. It helps to work with the shorter stems first and remove any excess leaves. “It was nothing. He’s… it’s fine. Really.”
“No, it’s not fine. You’re over thirty, Evie. Wake up before it’s too late! I mean, you don’t want to be running this flower shop. Your baking fucking pies to sell at the front desk. You want to be baking. Why are you here?”
She’s not wrong. I’ve been holding onto the dream Sawyer and I had of opening that pie bakery for too many years. But waking up requires fighting with my father, facing my own truths, and recognizing the reality of what’s become of my life. I’m not sure I can handle all that.
“And do what? Dad has already been riding me for years to get married. Years… Grace. I can’t back out of this.”
She glances down at a splotch of ink on the outside of my arm. “What about that guy?”
“What are you talking about?” My heart slams against my chest. “Stop.”
“Okay, tell me that tattoo doesn’t mean anything, and I’ll stop.” She stares at the ace of hearts just below my elbow.
“It means nothing,” I lie—not very well either.
“Sure,” she grins. “You forget I knew that guy too, right?” She rolls her arm forward, showing me the tattoos she got back when we lived in Rugged Mountain. “He did all my ink, and I know for a fact he has a stack of playing cards on his right hand with one that looks an awful lot like the ace of hearts.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Cards are popular. A lot of people have them tattooed.”
“No, they don’t, and I know for a fact Leon hates tattoos. So, you got that one against his wishes… which really must’ve pissed him off… which means it must have meant something to you.”
I swallow hard and grab a pink rose off the table. “Oh my God, isn’t there a box of roses out back wilting?”
“Yes, and I’ll get to that in a second, but first,” she rests her hand on my shoulder, “be honest with me.”
“Look, none of this matters. At the end of the day, Dad runs the show. We both know that.”
My younger sister rolls her pretty green eyes. Somehow she was blessed with our mother’s green eyes and fire red hair, while I got dad’s dark hair and brown eye combination. “You can break the cycle for both of us. We’ve got to stand up to him. He’s got no right to puppet us like this.”
Puppeteer is a kind word for the things my father does. I’d say he’s more a marionette master. Some days, I truly believe he thinks he’s doing what’s best for us. Others, I know his control is all about money and power. If I marry Leon like my father wants, the wealth my family has built over decades is preserved. I learned from a young age that we were to associate only with the wealthy. Lunch wasn’t lunch unless you were eating with a kid worth millions. And playtime, well, that couldn’t happen unless you were playing with a kid whose dad owned a retail chain. Apparently, similar financial backgrounds give us a mutual understanding and opportunity to grow said wealth.
Forget the part about being human and falling in love and having a heart. According to my father, those qualities are for poor people.
“Dad isn’t going to change his mind, Grace. He’s an old, old man with even older money. Either we fall in line or spend eternity alone.”
Grace rolls her eyes and huffs out a sigh before sliding my cut flowers into the vase haphazardly. “So, you don’t think about Sawyer anymore?”
The sound of his name out loud sends a shock of warmth throughout my body, reminding me of every kiss, touch, and laugh we shared.
“Of course I think about him, but it’s innocent. Like a memory.”
“Right,” she laughs and pushes back her dark red hair. “A memory about what could have been. Did you guys ever…”
I bite the inside of my cheek and try not to think about the nights that we laid twisted up together. My head against his chest, his rough fingertips against my skin. “No. We didn’t.”
She blows out a breath. “Yeah right. Two years and you guys didn’t fuck? Come on. Be real. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Why are we talking about this?” I take the flowers she tossed in the vase back out and rearrange them slowly, breathing in the soft, creamy aroma of lilies and roses.
“Because I know what you’re feeling. I know why you’ve held off on this wedding so long, why you’re so bummed out all the time, and I know why you’ve got that ace tattooed on your arm.”
I shake my head and smile. “Well, you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”
“I do, which is why it makes no sense that you guys didn’t fuck.”
I’m not sure why it’s so important to my sister to figure this mystery out, but I don’t think I’m going to have the answers for her that she needs. “We didn’t. I’m sorry to disappoint you. It’s… I’m sure it’s weird, but I don’t know… we kind of were just really close and… occasionally kissed.”
She laughs. “Wow. Maybe this is worse.”
My shoulders relax as I stare at her. “Why is it worse?”
“Well, you didn’t base the relationship on sex. You actually talked. I mean, you have to call him. You can’t marry Leon. He’s such an asshole.”
“I don’t have a choice, Grace.” I cut the leaves off the final rose and tuck it into the vase next to a long thin fern. “This is happening. I can’t have Dad’s guys after Sawyer. I can’t. I… you saw what they did to Harper’s boyfriend. He almost died, lost his business, was forced to move across the country, and Dad still chained Harper to a new man.” I huff out a breath and stare toward my sister. “I’m lucky. I got two great years with Sawyer. I got to feel real love. Not everyone gets to say that.” I turn back and slide the finished arrangement into the cooler next to the others. “Sawyer is probably married off to some other girl by now, anyway.”
“You haven’t looked him up online or sent someone to go check on him? I mean, he’s only a couple hours away. You’d think you guys would run into each other every once in a while.”
If I could count the number of times I went by the tattoo shop hoping to catch a glimpse of him, or how many times I prayed we’d run into each other at some harvest festival, it would take hours. It’s a recurring daydream I wake up with every morning, but come nightfall, I still find myself waiting for tomorrow, hoping I can see him one more time.
“He doesn’t do social media,” I shrug, “which is a good thing. I don’t need to torture myself with what-if’s forever. It’s for the best.”
The bell on the door rings and my father steps inside, changing the vibe in the room immediately. He’s nearly eighty and though he doesn’t get around as well as he used to, he’s still a presence. Dressed in a three-piece suit for a walk kind of presence. Shiny bald head with a designer watch kind of presence.
“Dad.” I reach out to hug him hello. He’s never been mean to me, per se. In fact, he’s given me everything money can buy. A college education, new cars, jewelry, and he even bought the flower shop. The fact that I didn’t want it isn’t the point—I guess. The only thing I was ever really missing was love. Even then, I’ve had it better than most.
He reaches down and pulls me in for a quick hug, the scent of cigars on his clothes. “Your fiancé’s been looking for you.”
My brows narrow. “Really? I’ve been right here, at work, all day. What’s going on?”
Dad clears his throat and lowers onto the stool behind the register. “The rehearsal dinner is tonight. He said you were trying to get out of it.”
Oh, so he hasn’t been trying to get a hold of me. He sent my father after me because I wasn’t listening to him.
“It’s not a rehearsal dinner, Dad. It’s Leon and a bunch of his buddies screwing around on the boat.” I shake my head and busy myself with tidying up the mess I’ve made with cut stems. “They get drunk, they act stupid, and they—”
“He wants you there.”
“For what?” I snap back. “It’s more a bachelor party than a rehearsal dinner.”
“Whatever it is, the man wants you there, and you’re going.” He nods toward the stack of pies on the counter. “What are these?”
“Pie.” My stomach clenches as I brace for an incoming lecture.
“Why do you have pies on the counter? This is a flower shop.” I hate when he uses this tone. It’s both condescending and dismissive, and it reminds me that my life isn’t my own. I mean, I never wanted a flower shop. Sure, I like flowers, but what do I need with a whole store?
What I wanted was a fairytale pie shop where all the pies were named after different story books. I imagined how cute it would be with a whimsical décor and enchanted music humming through the speakers. Sawyer and I even had these cute, colorful aprons picked out. Well, I picked them, and Sawyer agreed. “Get rid of them,” my father grunts as he stands from the stool. “They don’t make sense here, and make sure you’re at that party tonight. You’re about to be someone’s wife, Evie. Start acting like it.” He carries his frail body toward the door and steps out into the sun without a goodbye.
Okay… I turn toward my sister, whose jaw has dropped to the floor.
“What the hell was that about?”
“Right? Oh my God.” I flip open a box of strawberry pie and break off a piece of the crust, shoving the crumbling pastry into my mouth while offering my sister some. “Leon planned this stupid party, and his mom told him I should be there. So, now I have to go, or he has to cancel his party. We got into this argument about it last night. He must have sent Dad to put me in my place.”
My sister bursts into unabridged laughter. “What’s happening here? You’re both being ruled by your parents. Did I mention you’re over thirty years old? Come on, Evie! You have to stop this!”
“Umm… you do realize you’re being ruled by Dad too, right?”
“No, I’m not.” Grace flips her hair back away from her shoulder. “I do what I want. Just last night I got thinking about petitioning for a public playground. I mean, there are plenty of kids everywhere and there never seems to be one.”
My brows narrow. “A playground? Why do you care about a playground?”
She rolls her eyes and redirects her gaze to the floor, then up again. “Oh my God, does it matter? The point is, I’m doing something that’s not on Dad’s list of approved activities. You should too.”
I have a million questions about this sudden interest in playgrounds, but I don’t have the energy right now to ask. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. You know where they have good coffee, Rugged Mountain. Besides, it’s on the way to the lake, right?”
Grace laughs, rolls her eyes, and heads down the hall toward the back door. “Just finally do it this time. I’m not sure I can keep harassing you at this pace forever.”
“We’ll see.” I grab my purse from under the register and head out into the afternoon sun.
A cup of coffee will fix everything… at least it better.