Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Delaney
My stomach is a ball of knots as I step inside The Perfect Petal. There’s a UTV parked outside, and I really hope it’s Poppy’s and not Bennett’s.
The bell on the door rings, announcing my arrival.
Again, the sweet scent of the peonies calls my name. Bennett was right, I’ve always loved them, even if they bring forth the memories that felt so crushing to a teenage girl in love, ripped away from the boy she thought would be her forever.
Poppy comes out of the back with an armful of flowers. “Good morning.” She drops them on the table and comes over, wrapping me in a warm, welcoming hug. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Thanks again.” We’ve had this little exchange the last two days.
She pulls away and waves me off, going back to the table with the flowers. “Don’t thank me, we need your help.”
“Then stop hugging me like you’re surprised to see me show up for work every day.”
She glances up from her flowers, her brows raised.
“Oh, stop it. I’m sorry for letting us lose touch,” I say.
“For not returning my calls?”
“Yes.”
“Or my texts?”
“Yes.” My tone lightens along with hers.
“And not letting me be your maid of honor at your wedding?”
I pull some kraft paper from the roll and help her put together some bouquets. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t have a maid of honor.”
“Oh?” Her interest is piqued. I haven’t really told her anything about my past with Sean.
“We went to the courthouse and then on a honeymoon where we had a ceremony with just the two of us at sunset.”
“That’s romantic.” She smiles at me.
“It was a lie.”
Silence settles over the shop, and I assume Bennett hasn’t arrived yet. Or maybe he’s tucked away in his office, keeping his distance.
“I’m really sorry.”
I glance at her and nod. “Me too.”
The bell rings, saving us from digging deeper into my past. I’m thankful not to have to get into it with her.
My past with a man I loved, but apparently never really knew.
I’m not even sure if Sean loved me or just played the part.
His betrayal makes me question everything I thought I knew.
I can still see him dancing with Leia around the kitchen that morning, laughing and carefree mere hours before he was arrested. Was that real?
“Oh, this is so cute.” An older woman, probably in her sixties, heads to the stem bar and breathes in the scent of the flowers.
A man follows her, presumably her husband.
Poppy stops what she’s doing, smiling warmly. “Welcome to The Perfect Petal. Is there anything I can help you with?”
The man has thinning gray hair, is well-dressed, and clearly is out of place in Willowbrook. His slacks, loafers, and country club polo scream money. And not the ranch kind, but the kind earned in boardrooms.
“I’m looking for Bennett Owens. He gave me this address, but clearly this isn’t…” He looks around again. “… his office.”
“I’m going to make a bouquet,” the woman says.
“Rosie, we don’t have time for that.”
“Sure, we do. It’ll only take a moment.”
He sighs and looks at us. “Everything only takes a moment.”
Poppy and I chuckle, but he doesn’t crack a smile, waiting for us to direct him to Bennett.
“He’s not here yet. He seems to be running late, which is odd for him. I’ll give him a quick call.” Poppy digs her phone out of her apron.
“I guess you have longer than a moment, Rosie. He’s not even on time.”
“Oh, Earl, relax.” I like Rosie’s style. “We have nowhere to be. You said you took the day off, right?”
He gives her a tight smile. “Yes, dear.”
Poppy’s whispering into the phone, but I catch enough to know Bennett’s probably pissed. He’s never handled lateness well and always thought it made him look bad no matter how many times I told him people understand accidents and things that are out of his control.
I remember only one time he didn’t care about being late—when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, and he took me on the conference room table. He used California traffic as an excuse, without the stress and edginess he usually possessed.
“Why don’t I help?” I offer, finishing the bouquet I was working on before heading toward Rosie.
“Please do. Otherwise, I’ll spend my day off in this flower shop and not on the golf course,” Earl says.
“Don’t even think about playing golf today.” There’s a warning in Rosie’s voice. This is clearly a conversation they’ve had before.
Earl blows out a breath, stuffs his hands in his pockets, and wanders the shop.
I’m halfway to Rosie when Poppy says, “He’s only five minutes out. There was an accident at the school his daughter attends.”
I stop mid-step, my heart lurching.
“Oh, just Wren hitting Principal North’s car with the truck door. Nothing with the actual school.”
I let out a relieved breath, nodding like I need the reminder that we’re safe. No one knows where we went. No one’s looking for us.
“I’m not very good at this,” Rosie says, laughing as she tries to pair two flowers together. “How do you guys make it look so pretty?”
I sit on the stool next to her. “Well, I went to school for it.”
“You can get a degree in flowers?”
She’s dressed like someone used to manicures and high-end shops. Flats with gold emblems, a sundress, and a cardigan. Her hair is curled and dyed without a hint of gray. I’m fairly sure her jewelry costs more than the car I owned before the DEA seized it.
“Floriculture, yes.”
“Like horticulture?” she asks.
“Yes, that too. But I concentrated in florals because… they’re so pretty. And they smell so good.” I lift a peony and breathe it in.
“They are. And it seems to suit you.” Her gaze sweeps over me.
I cross my legs, a little self-conscious. I used to dine with women like her. Women who wouldn’t blink at dropping five figures on a brunch fundraiser.
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head in her direction.
“Your flowy dress, your natural hair, and lack of makeup. One of those hippie types.”
I laugh. I don’t think she means it offensively, it’s just her frame of reference. “I guess so.”
If she’d seen me six months ago, she probably wouldn’t recognize me. My hair was always straight with maybe a curl that came from a curling iron, never my natural waves like now. My makeup, fake lashes, and lipstick were always on before I left the house.
That’s been one freeing thing since everything went down—I feel more comfortable in my own skin again.
“Let’s get started. Pick three flowers that call out to you.”
She spins her stool, thank God. The longer she looks at me, the more I fear she’ll say, “Hey, you look familiar, don’t I know you from the news?”
She taps her finger to her lips and looks over the array of flowers Poppy must have put out when she opened this morning. She selects a big sunflower, a daisy, and a rose. That’s a challenging mix, but we can work with it.
“It’s ugly.” She frowns at her trio.
“We haven’t cushioned them yet. Pick five more from the lower level.”
“Greenery is boring.”
“Well, it might be boring, but it makes the flowers shine. It’s like your backdrop and will barely even be noticed, but you can pick some fillers too. Sweet peas or larkspur might be nice.”
“How about we dumb this down for me? I point, you pick. If you want to name them, fine—but I’ll forget.”
I laugh. “Sure thing.”
She points, I pick, and soon I’m arranging the bouquet in my hand, varying heights, centering the sunflower. I add a few unexpected touches for texture, something soft and playful.
I hold it out, and her eyes widen. “Wow. You’re amazing at your job. Earl! Come see what this young lady just made!”
“I’d rather not,” Earl mutters. “It’s been longer than five minutes.”
“Sorry,” Poppy says behind us. “I’m sure he’ll be here any second. This is very unlike him.”
“Let’s trim the ends. Do you want to put it in the mason jar now or wait till you’re home?”
She leans in. “If I carry a mason jar of water all the way home, I’ll look like I peed myself by the time we get there.”
“Then I’ll tie it together and wrap it in kraft paper. All you have to do is add some water and slip it into the jar when you get home. Sound good?”
“Sounds too easy. Don’t be upset if they’re dead in a day.”
I stand from the stool. “You’ll keep them alive for a week, I bet.”
“No, she won’t,” Earl calls from the front, constantly within earshot.
I lean down and whisper, “I believe in you.”
Her face lights up. “I really like you.”
As I walk to grab the kraft paper, warmth blooms in my chest. I’d forgotten how good it feels to make someone smile. To create something beautiful out of what they thought was nothing. Thanks, Rosie. I owe you one.
The bell rings, and Bennett barrels in, cheeks flushed. “I’m so sorry, Earl.”
“Fifteen minutes late. Might want to get that watch checked,” Earl mutters. “Rosie, he’s here.”
“Again, I’m sorry. Let’s go to my office.”
Bennett glances at me, then Poppy, before weaving through the tables.
“Perfect timing. She just finished my bouquet,” Rosie says. “I’ll grab it on the way out, darling.”
“It’ll be ready for you.”
Bennett stops at his office door, and I hold up the bouquet. His mouth lifts in a small smile. Our eyes meet, and for a breath, we hold each other’s gazes. Then he opens the door and motions for Earl and Rosie to go in first.
“Man, I can’t breathe.” Poppy clutches her throat.
“What’s wrong?”
“All the sexual tension in the shop. You’d think I had allergies or something.” She flashes me a teasing grin.
I bump my shoulder into hers, and she laughs.
God, for a little while there, I forgot all about my problems. And it felt really, really good.