Chapter 1
“Good morning. Thank you for calling Cygnature Blooms, where bigger is always better. You’re speaking to Tee, your international representative. We specialize in healing broken hearts worldwide. May I have your location, please?”
“Hi, Tee. I’m calling from Hanover, Virginia.”
“Thank you, sir. Please hold while I transfer your call to your local Cygnature Blooms florist.”
Tuesday
Cygnature Blooms, Hanover Square, this is Tuesday. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, Tuesday. I hope you can help me. I need an apology bouquet. Do you think you can assist me?”
“Certainly. I’d be happy to. Is it okay if I ask a few questions to get you the perfect arrangement?”
A nervous chuckle crosses the line as I tap my lower lip with my pen, my mind racing with thoughts of the perfect floral bouquet for such an occasion. Had he snapped at his secretary? Perhaps he forgot his anniversary or his mother’s birthday? I begin to flip through the circular file I’ve created for circumstances like this. If he’s more traditional, we could go with roses. But I’m secretly hoping he’ll let me use anemones.
“Can I be blunt, Tuesday?”
“Yes, of course. I’m here to help.”
“I royally fucked up, and I need to make a grand gesture if I stand a chance in hell of getting my girlfriend to forgive me.”
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Gah. Now I’m dying to know what happened . Yet, I can’t push for more and remain professional. “Well, I’m sure we can come up with something worthy of whatever may have transpired.”
“I doubt that,” he mutters. “But that’s not your fault. It might take enough flowers to supply the Rose Bowl Parade to get her to forgive me for this.”
I remain quiet in case he decides to divulge more. Yet, the line becomes so still I have to question whether the call has disconnected.
“Is your girlfriend located in the Hanover delivery area?” I ask.
“Yes. We live together. That is, I think we still do.”
Oh, my. This does sound bad. Deciding to gather his contact information in order to change the subject momentarily, I press on. “Do you mind if I jot down your name and number in case we get disconnected or I need to contact you about delivery details?”
“Sure. My name is Ben. Ben Banks.” He rattles off his address and phone number as I enter his details into the computer.
“Well, Ben. I think we can come up with something. Don’t lose hope.” I refocus on the little wheel of laminated cards I created to help me recall the meanings of various flowers long ago. They’ve served me well in times like these, helping to determine the right sentiment, season, and color palate the client prefers. I can’t say I’ve gotten a request quite like this before. But then again, I’m only a part-time employee here. I’m sure many customers order floral deliveries, hoping it will grant them mercy, yet choose to keep their reasons to themselves.
“There are several flowers that are known to symbolize regret or sadness over a situation. Purple hyacinth, asphodel, white poppy, and scarlet geranium are each known to express consolation. And they are all stunning flowers.”
“I think I might need all of them.” A heavy exhale followed by a sound akin to the rustling of papers comes from the other end of the line, and I can’t help but picture an attractive businessman wearing a shiny, expensive watch as he shuffles papers about his desk. “Tuesday?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Those sound beautiful. But I need over the top.” Pause. “My girlfriend means the world to me. I… well, I love her. I didn’t realize it until...” Another heavy breath. “Well, until she left me.”
My hand instantly flies to my chest as if I’m personally invested in this couple instead of listening to some stranger spill the tea as if I’m a bartender at his favorite saloon. But I don’t really understand.
Why is he giving her apology flowers if she left him?
“After dating for several months, she decided she didn’t want to be in a committed relationship anymore. She said she was focused on her career and didn’t want to have any distractions. But by this time, I was hooked. I wasn’t going to beg her to stay. I had my pride. So I let her walk away.” Ben grows quiet. When he resumes speaking, his voice cracks a little. “It tore me up more than I expected. Thankfully, it didn’t last long, and she came back. But…”
Biting my lip, I anxiously wait for him to continue. While the story is scintillating, it’s definitely not relatable. At twenty, I’ve never had a serious long-term relationship. Sure, I’ve dated. Yet, regardless of how well the first meeting goes, any chemistry present appears to fizzle by the third. At times, I can’t help but question if the lack of attraction is my doing or if my overprotective brother has something to do with it.
My mother often declares how happy she is that I’m a late bloomer with my head in the clouds instead of focused on a boy. She’d prefer I keep my eyes trained on my coursework. Truth be told, she’s more committed to my academia and having a career in medicine than I am. I’d much rather spend all of my days working in this little flower shop than continuing college classes toward a nursing degree I have little interest in. Yet, what she doesn’t know… there is a boy. Well, a man, now. Luckily for her, he’s a man who’d never give me a second glance.
“I was upset,” Ben continues, interrupting my thoughts. “I felt rejected and drowned my sorrows. A lot. And one of those nights, the alcohol made me weak.” I note a longer pause this time and brace myself. “And I hooked up with someone.”
Oh, no. Where is this going?
“And apparently, I caught something from them because my girl stormed into my office and practically beat the shit out of me after she received a call from her doctor.”
Yikes. Well, at least she’s not pregnant . “Oh, Ben.”
“Yeah.” He sounds so defeated.
Not to sound like Ross and Rachel from Friends , but they were on a break.
“I’m hoping she’ll forgive me. I mean, she left me . It was a mistake, but I was drunk and heartbroken. I need to do something to show her how much she means to me.”
“Hmm. You’re right. This might take more than just flowers.” I turn to see the various add-ons we offer when my gaze lands on a few colorful balloons and stuffed animals that I quickly dismiss. “I’m not sure you should focus on forgiveness, Ben. Technically, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Well, except maybe the decision to forego using a condom . I can’t help but grimace. “Instead, use this opportunity to demonstrate how much she means to you.”
The line grows quiet again. “What do you mean?”
“Like, up your game. You said you love her. Show her. Use this occasion to make this a regular thing. Start by delivering a beautiful assortment of flowers to work, then bring a pretty bouquet of purple hyacinths home a while later. Make her dinner and have them waiting on the table. The following week, greet her with some white poppies and lilacs as you take her to a new restaurant. Run her a bath with rose petals and relaxing essential oils. Let her find chocolates and a love letter. Push yourself farther than you have before in the romance department. Show her your actions are more than asking for forgiveness. It’s because you love her.”
“You know, you’re right. I like that.”
“And if she chooses to stay focused on what you did while the two of you were apart rather than what you’re doing to bring the two of you together, you can walk away knowing you did all you could.” The tinkling metal chime of the bells above the front door steals my attention away from the phone, and as I look up, my heart practically stops beating.
“You’re fantastic, Tuesday. Tuesday. Such a pretty name.”
“Ben.”
“Yes?”
“Keep focused on your girl. I’m going to work on a few ideas and call you back to confirm. Does that sound okay?”
“Yes. Perfect. Thank you. I’m feeling more optimistic already.”
“Good. I’m so glad I could help.” I disconnect the call, with my eyes still fixated on the only other person in the shop. Despite all of the plants in the showroom doing their part in photosynthesis, I may need to be revived. He’s stealing all of the oxygen from the room. This glorious man stands at six foot two with dark brown eyes and wavy brown hair with a single dimple smirking at me. It’s enough to make any girl swoon.
“Tues,” the deep tone of his familiar voice coats my skin in delectable warmth as it floats in my direction. I feel like a peace lily thriving under a heat lamp. I’m practically melting under his gaze until the front doorbell dings again, and a tall, leggy blonde strolls in, draping her arm through his.