Chapter 7
Max
Her duffel suitcase didn’t feel very heavy as I pulled it from the backseat. I guess I must’ve missed the lightness of it against the heavy weight of my anger, realizing Daisy was planning on leaving. On going back to Portland. Without telling me.
My hand tightened on the bag’s handle.
I hadn’t thought twice when she’d asked for a day off from deliveries. She had ridden shotgun every day, including and since her wedding day. At some point, reality was going to catch up to her. At some point, she was going to grieve Todd’s leaving.
Meanwhile, I was long past grieving. I was steeping steadily in fury at the man I’d considered one of my best friends. One of my childhood friends. At one point, my business partner.
I switched her suitcase into my other hand and then grabbed her tote, the remains of her wedding dress wilting from the top of the bag.
“When did you open this again?” Daisy asked softly.
Nudging my truck door shut, I turned and caught her staring at the floral facade of the MaineStems store in the heart of Stonebar Harbor.
Its forest green exterior is broken by a bright yellow door smashed between the two front windows, their displays whimsically filled with our summer bouquet options.
“A year ago?” I said, trying to recall exactly when. I’d bought it, but the old colonial-aged building needed a lot of work, so by the time the storefront actually opened…I’d bought it before Todd told me Daisy was pregnant. Everything after was somewhat of a blur.
She nodded slowly, walking up to one of the windows. “I remember Todd mentioning something…” Her attention settled on the displays.
Our flower arrangements changed with the season, and periodically throughout the season, depending on what was available or if there was a holiday we created limited editions for. It was one of our selling points. Not your same old, ordinary bouquet of roses.
Every arrangement was handcrafted, every flower chosen for color and quality. I wanted to give customers something intentional, not easy. Something remarkable, not just acceptable for the last minute.
That was all MaineStems started as. Exclusive floral arrangements, on demand.
But like most things that are watered well, the business grew.
It grew from an idea and my dad’s truck to the farm and my house, to a warehouse and shipping building, to a storefront in town, to an expansion down to Boston.
“Do you need—do you want me to go up to the house and get more of your clothes?” I offered, reaching for the door.
They’d moved all of Daisy’s things from her apartment to one of Todd’s family’s homes two weeks ago.
I knew because it was the excuse Todd gave for why he couldn’t go wedding cake tasting and asked me to go for him—one more thing he’d left to the very last minute because nothing was last minute when you could pay enough to make it happen.
But because it was last minute, Daisy had doctor’s appointments that day, and Todd was moving her things, I was the only option left.
So he said.
Except Todd hadn’t been moving shit. He’d hired movers and then spent the day out golfing with Scott—his reluctant confession coming when I noticed his sunburn the next day.
“What’s the big deal, Max? It’s just cake. Chocolate, vanilla, who cares?”
His fiancée did. Daisy didn’t like chocolate, and vanilla made her nauseous, so I’d picked the blueberries and cream.
I wanted to be angry with him then, too, but all I could think was Daisy would’ve been worse off if he had been the one to go.
If he had picked vanilla without caring and resigned her to puking all over her wedding cake.
Daisy came over as I opened the door to the shop. “No,” she said, breathing deep the floral wave of scent that ebbed free. “There’s nothing that will fit me there.”
Sure, she could be talking about her clothes. Even in just the span of a few days, I’d seen the slight changes continuing to shape her body. But I could tell that wasn’t the only thing on her mind.
“Are you sure? It’s easy for me to go.” There was no reason for her to face a future that no longer existed. To walk into the house, missing the husband who it belonged to.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Wrong answer.
She tried to take her tote from my shoulder, but I angled myself, keeping it away from her grasping hands.
“Do you want to go out and get some clothes?”
Her head snapped up. “No, it’s fine. What I have—”
My gaze narrowed on her, now recognizing the boldly colored outfit as belonging to my cousin. “Then why are you wearing some of Frankie’s maternity clothes?”
Her throat bobbed, working up an answer. “Because Lou brought them over, and I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for not wearing them.”
Not the whole truth, but it was all I was going to get, as Daisy walked through the honey-yellow door.
Inside, the shop was designed to look like a bookstore.
Display tables filled the room, the walls lined with rising shelves.
Every surface was covered in flowers. Bouquets.
Single blooms. Books on various species.
Framed photographs of our previous arrangements.
It was all Erica. Well, not all of it, but most of it, and I was happy to give credit where credit was due.
“Oh, Max.” The brunette rose from behind the desk at the very back of the room.
“Is everything okay? I didn’t realize you were coming in…
” She trailed off when she saw Daisy. My head was immediately visible above some of her taller arrangements, but Daisy was too short to be seen until she was close. “Daisy, hi.”
Of course, Erica knew what had happened with Todd, with the wedding.
I had to explain how I could suddenly cover for our missing delivery driver on the day my best friend was supposed to tie the knot.
We didn’t talk much about it besides the basic facts.
Erica knew when it came to Daisy, there were certain questions that were off-limits.
“Hey, Erica.”
The women embraced.
“It’s really good to see you again. You look great. How are you feeling?”
“Mostly good. Still getting some nausea in the mornings, but driving…doing the deliveries with Max has been helping,” Daisy said, her palms absentmindedly rubbing the sides of her growing stomach.
Between my cousins, there were enough new babies in the Hamilton-Kinkade clan for me to know that every pregnancy was different.
As Frankie said, “Some bellies were early poppers, and some were late.” Early and late didn’t mean much to me, but what I did see was Daisy changing every day.
Her stomach rounding out. Her clothes—or whoever’s clothes—pulling tighter across her chest. The glow of her skin.
Even the little things seemed fuller. The swells of her cheeks.
The deepness of her breaths. I noticed everything about her. Always had.
Which was what made it so fucking painful to watch her choose Todd when he noticed nothing.
“Oh, that’s great. When are you due again?”
“December 12th.”
“Oh, a winter baby. That’s so exciting. I’m so happy for you,” Erica gushed with so much excitement, it was almost easy to forget the you she was happy for was singular.
That Daisy was now treading down the path of single parenthood.
“Max mentioned you know you’re having a girl. Do you have a name picked out yet?”
Erica was great at conversation, at making people feel comfortable and getting them to open up, and at reading between the lines when they didn’t.
As her boss, that skill was a double-edged sword.
It worked just as well on customers as it did on me.
She was about the only person who knew that it wasn’t for work-related reasons I’d kept my distance from Daisy over the last six months.
There was no business, let alone rational reason, that I was too busy to go up to Portland and visit the happy couple, yet I’d had time in my schedule to pick up the slack on their wedding planning.
“You were the one who suggested the inn. Who suggested a show. Daisy said she was fine with the courthouse.” That was what our conversations always devolved to—Todd blaming my being involved on myself. Because I’d insisted that the mother of his child deserved better.
The real reason I couldn’t complain? I’d buried the knife in my own chest and then chose to keep twisting it. By helping him. By making excuses for him. By making up for him. I wanted Daisy to be happy more than I wanted her to not be with Todd.
“Not yet,” Daisy replied, her smile falling.
“My parents already have names picked out. What’s the point in talking about other ones?”
Another argument. Another disappointment. Another hour spent trying to draw him out of his…resignation…when it came to his parents. To the baby. It was the same fruitless discussion when he didn’t understand why she wanted to look at things for the nursery.
“It’s so far away. Why look at stuff now? She hasn’t even been to the house yet. How does she know what can fit in the room?”
How did I explain to someone for whom there was no negative concept of last minute why some people liked to plan ahead—why Daisy, the child of a single mom who worked multiple jobs to support them, who had to work as soon as she was old enough, who had to allot every penny, every second, and every emotion of her life because she couldn’t afford otherwise, would take comfort in being prepared for the birth of their daughter.
“Her name is McCormick. That’s all that matters, right?”
I cleared my throat and unclenched my fists before one of them realized.
“Daisy’s going to be helping us out for a little while with deliveries, so I’m having her stay in the apartment,” I said firmly, not having had the chance to warn Erica about the change of plans.