Chapter 33
Fallon
The Bryant Park market glitters with the kind of holiday joy from those Hallmark movies. Warm glowing lights coil around every lamppost, flashing soft gold and frosty blue. The smell of pine and holiday music swells softly and soothingly in the cold air.
I tighten my scarf and clutch the handle of the wagon I’m dragging behind me. The little red and white ceramic pots inside clink gently together, each holding a tiny winter Chrysanthemum bloom mixed with a fragrant herb I raised like they were hatchlings.
Rhys walks a half-step behind me, hands in his coat pockets, silent as always. I can feel his presence pressing against my back. This year, it’s more soothing than the music.
As we walk, the booths open up in front of us. People milling about, some weaving around slow-walkers, others laughing, and kids blowing noise makers.
I freeze.
The lights, the squeals of children, the movement of dozens of bundled strangers, and the clatter of voices are too much. My brain fizzes with the stacking sounds. I drop the handle and cover my ears.
Rhys is there, pulling me into his chest. “Too much stimulation, right?”
“Uh huh.” I swallow. “It will pass.”
“Breathe,” Rhys murmurs, holding me. “Take your time.”
“I don’t want to be late dropping these off.” I sniff. “The manager isn’t very nice.”
Rhys scoffs. “God, I hope he tries being a dick to you in front of me.”
I glance at all the witnesses. That’s a lot of favors. A lot of dates.
No. He. Is. Mine.
I nod quickly to punch down the anxiety. “I’m fine.”
I’m not, exactly, but I can be. This event always tests my endurance. I focus on my plants. Just get them to the tables. Make them pretty for people.
The public eating area with metal bistro tables waits at the far side of the market. The area sits beneath strings of red and blue chunky retro bulbs. Each table is an empty blank canvas.
I head toward the organizer’s booth to check in.
“Hey, Vin,” I greet the restaurant manager.
“Hey, Fallon.” He leans in and gives me a hug, rubbing my arms and smiling at me, which I’m not always comfortable with. “What’d you say to finally having a drink with me afterwards?”
Every year, Vin asks me out on a date. I always say no. That I don’t drink. And that I have a boyfriend. He never cared about that.
This year he’ll care.
I swear the air just got colder when Rhys’s voice gets low and edgy. “Not unless I’m invited.”
Vin releases me, smirking like Rhys is just another woman’s boyfriend he can charm or intimidate until he sees him behind me. His eyes widen, taking in all six-foot-four of my boyfriend.
I’m tempted to whisper that he’s an assassin.
But I don’t.
Vin scans my trolley. “Chrysanthemums? Really?”
My heart starts to flutter. “I sent you a photo of the sample I made. Including how the seedlings were locally sourced and how I planted them myself, the soil levels, how often they were watered, and—”
“I’m done wasting my time on you,” he mutters, making notes on his check-in sheet. “Not sure if we need you next year.”
It happens so fast, Rhys has Vin up against a wall. “You fucking apologize right now or you won’t see tomorrow.”
Vin struggles to breathe, and I immediately spin around to make sure no one sees this. No one will care that Vin is rude and says disgusting things. Cameras usually capture the outcome, not the catalyst.
“Apologize,” Rhys hisses.
“Sorry. All right?” Vin wiggles to get out of Rhys’s death grip.
I shouldn’t be turned on by this. But oh my… I am.
“Where’s her money?” Rhys hisses.
“I…” Vin stutters. “It’s in the office.”
“Get it. Now. If you make me wait, I’ll break a bone for every minute you waste.”
“Jesus, dude. It’s just a bunch of fucking flowers. I’m going to throw them out on New Year’s Day.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that all of these will end up in the trash.
“Two men who work for me will come here to pick them up.” Rhys turns to me. “We will donate them.”
“How will I know they work for you?” Vin is still struggling to breathe.
“You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.” Rhys gives Vin a knee to the nuts. “Now, I’m going to help my girlfriend put her hard work on your shite tables while you get her money. You have five minutes. Every thirty seconds you’re late, you’re going to pay her twenty-five percent more.”
Rhys shoves Vin, who struggles to stay upright and rushes to his trailer, not looking back at us.
Rhys returns to me like nothing happened, dark coat flaring in the icy breeze. He brings me to one of the tables and sits me down.
Stroking my hair, he says, “Fallon, that jerk didn’t treat you like garbage because you think and act differently. Or dress differently. Or see the world as a much better place than it really is. Guys like that treat all women like shite.”
I nod, taking in every word. “Not every woman has you.”
“No.” He kisses my mittened-up knuckles. “No one else has me. Just you.”
With Rhys’s help, I start unloading the pots, putting one in the center of each table. The red petals, green sprigs, and white blooms tipped in pink pop against the gray metal. I hum under my breath as I place them. The little clinking sounds of ceramic drown out the chaos of the market.
When I step back, the whole place looks brighter. Like now it has a heartbeat.
“What made you want to do this in the first place?” Rhys asks, scanning everything.
“Because…” I smile a little, setting two pots in equal formation on the longest table.
“I stopped by one year, and they had fake poinsettias. I came back and dropped off a few extras from Friendsgiving on empty tables. I loved how people smiled when they sat down and saw something alive and green on a cold day.”
Rhys stares at me like I struck some kind of nerve. “Jesus, you are so pure and good.”
I worry he’ll think I’m too good for him. That I’m all glitter and sunshine. I step up to him and grab his belt to remind him there is a woman under all this.
“I can’t believe you threatened Vin,” I whisper, my heart doing double-time in my chest.
He glances down at me, then at my plants brightening the tables with holiday colors. His expression softens, but it still breathes his signature edge. “I loved doing that for you. The way it was personal excited me.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Like the other night, excited?”
“Aye.” His jaw tightens as he looks at my hand gripping his belt. “Is there something you want?”
“You. I can handle you, Rhys. I have the strength buried deep.”
“I know, Fal, I know.” He leans in to kiss me, but turns toward Vin, staring at us.
“Here,” the manager says, all cocky and about to get another jab at his balls.
“Hand it to her. Not me,” Rhys barks and steps aside. “She did all this hard work.”
Vin walks up to me, and I give him an assassin’s glare.
“Don’t come back next year,” he says low, putting his life in his hands.
“Jerk.” After I swipe the envelope, he rushes away.
Families and couples start to sit at the tables with trays of cocoa and steaming pretzels. Their faces light up when they notice the plants. I clutch my chest, watching their smiles as they smell the blossoms.
The market noise doesn’t press on my skull as much anymore. It fades, like someone turned down the volume inside my head. All because of something I did.
Rhys took care of Vin, but he didn’t tell the kids to shut up or take their noisemakers away. He helped me get through all the chaos.
He wants me strong enough to take whatever storm is coming.