Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Athena
Wren Holson stares at me with her big green eyes.
A toss of her dark brown hair over her shoulder only adds to her attitude at the moment.
My first mistake was barging into the middle of the mommy and son photo shoot that’s going on.
I can blame that on her assistant. He was on his way out of her studio when I showed up. The enormous floral arrangement in my hands didn’t faze him. He pointed at a pretty brunette wearing a teal jumpsuit and holding a camera.
I sauntered over with a big smile on my face and promptly sent the little boy nestled in his mother’s arms into a crying fit.
The flowers scared the hell out of him.
They’ve been a pain since I left my shop and hopped onto the subway to come here.
I poked more people than I care to admit as I swung the bouquet from arm-to-arm, trying desperately not to injure anyone.
Wren’s gaze drops to the envelope in her hands.
I got her to take that, but so far she hasn’t reached for the flowers. I shove them at her for the third time. “I’m sorry again for the interruption, Ms. Holson. I hope you enjoy these.”
She doesn’t make a move to take them from me. “Did Wolf send you here?”
I sneak a peek at the blonde woman dressed in blue, holding her now-quiet son. “He did.”
Sliding a pink manicured fingernail under the seal of the envelope, Wren sighs. “Give me a minute, will you?”
For what?
I’ve already overstayed my welcome. I should be out the door and texting Liam by now. I need to tell him that the delivery was a success and that I have his credit card in the front pocket of my jeans.
Wren’s gaze flits over my face before it settles on the gold locket hanging around my neck. “Wait right here.”
I stand in place as the heels of her sky-high black boots tap out an impatient rhythm on the hardwood floor with every step she takes away from me.
“Those flowers are all kinds of gorgeous.” The woman bouncing the baby in her arms smiles at me. “Did her boyfriend send those to her?”
I don’t think I’m divulging any secrets by nodding my head.
“What florist do you deliver for?” She asks with a tilt of her chin. “My mom’s birthday is creeping up. It’s her big six-o, so I want to surprise her with something like that.”
I glance at the door that Wren disappeared behind at the back of the studio. Since I have the time, I might as well make the most of it.
Balancing the bouquet in my left arm, I fish in my tote for one of my business cards. I don’t hand out a lot of them, but my brother insisted I order a box when I set up shop. He’s not only my silent partner but my mentor too.
I yank a small white card out of one of the compartments inside of my bag. “I own Wild Lilac.”
Taking a few steps forward, I drop my card in her outstretched hand.
She scans the violet-colored text. “I think I just found my new favorite florist.”
I’ll never get tired of hearing those words.
“Hey.” The sound of Wren’s voice turns my attention to the back of the studio.
I raise a hand and smile as if we’re old friends. “Can I put these on that table over there?”
Wren’s gaze shifts to the rectangular table covered with camera equipment, notepads, and a computer. “No. You’re taking those with you.”
Darting to her feet, the woman who is holding the baby asks the obvious question before I have a chance to. “Why is she taking those flowers with her?”
Wren stabs a corner of the envelope I gave her into the top of my hand.
I look down. Her name has a line of red ink slashed through it. Written under that in the same crimson shade is one word.
Wolf.
“Give this to him,” she says when I take the envelope. “Give him the flowers too.”
I flip the envelope over in my hand. The only thing holding the seal in place is a small piece of blue tape in the center of it.
“I wrote on the back of his note,” she explains, her voice even. “I don’t want flowers. He shouldn’t have sent them.”
“Maybe you should call him?” I suggest quietly.
That perks both her brows. “I said everything I want to say in my note. It’s over. I’m done. I should have ended it weeks ago.”
My gaze lands beyond her shoulder on the blonde woman. The expression on her face must mirror the one on mine. I’m shocked. This has never happened to me.
“You can go.” Wren dismisses me with a flick of her wrist. “I’m busy. Sorry for your trouble.”
I stuff the envelope in my tote and turn my back to her. Taking a deep breath, I march across the studio, wondering how in the hell I got stuck in the middle of this.
Liam Wolf didn’t answer my call or respond to any of the three text messages I sent to him since leaving Wren’s studio. I could have waited until tomorrow to get in touch with him, but that comes with a risk.
The risk is that if he reaches out to Wren tonight, he won’t have a full understanding of where his relationship stands.
It’s not my job to give the envelope to him before the clock strikes midnight, but he seems like a decent guy. He deserves to know that Wren wrote him a note when she refused the flowers.
Running my fingers over the screen of my phone, I find what I’m looking for with a quick online search.
Liam’s a grief counselor.
He works in a building on West 54th Street.
I plug in the numbers for his office phone.
By the third ring I expect it to go to voicemail, but a female voice answers. “Dehaven Center. Good evening. How may I help you?”
Stepping back from the street, I settle in a spot under the awning of a closed deli. It’s not as though I’d need to shout over the noise of the traffic whizzing past, but this conversation feels like it deserves a modicum of respect.
“I need to speak to Liam Wolf.”
I hope that I can convince him to meet me back at Wild Lilac so I can give him the envelope and his credit card. The flowers technically belong to him, so the choice of what to do with them is in his hands.
“Mr. Wolf is unavailable. May I take a message?”
“I have something that belongs to him,” I explain to the woman on the other end of the call. “It’s imperative that I give it to him tonight.”
“Do you know where our office is located?” she chirps back in a happy tone.
Even though she can’t see me, I nod. “I do.”
“If you’d like, you can swing by and drop off whatever it is,” she pauses. “I’ll be sure it gets to him before he leaves for the day.”
This is an answer to my prayer.
I won’t have to be the bearer of bad news. I can dump everything in the lap of the woman I’m talking to.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I say before ending the call.
This delivery debacle is almost over. After a quick stop at Liam’s office, I’ll be home free.