CHAPTER 16
Standing on My Own Again
Kathy — POV
Kathy didn't cry right away.
That surprised her.
She expected to break the moment she left the shop.
Expected tears. Shaking hands. Panic. Something messy and uncontrollable.
But instead, she just walked.
Past Merrow Street. Past the small stalls. Past people living normal lives like nothing had changed.
Everything felt strangely distant.
Like she was moving through a world that didn't fully notice her anymore.
Only when she reached home did it hit harder.
Her small room felt quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her hands.
Still steady.
Still hers.
That was something.
But her chest felt tight in a way she couldn't ignore anymore.
Brad.
His face kept coming back.
Not the billionaire version.
Not the one on TV.
The one in her shop.
Quiet. Careful. Listening.
And now that version felt like it had been pulled out from under her.
Replaced.
Or maybe revealed.
She wasn't sure which hurt more.
Kathy exhaled slowly and stood up.
"No," she whispered to herself.
Not denial.
Decision.
She walked back into her small kitchen, splashed water on her face, and stared at herself in the mirror.
Her reflection looked back — tired, but still there.
"You're fine," she said quietly.
But it didn't sound convincing.
So she tried again.
"You're still you."
That one felt better.
Not perfect.
But real enough to hold onto.
The next morning, she opened the flower shop earlier than usual.
She didn't want to think.
So she worked.
Cut stems. Cleaned vases. Rearranged displays. Checked inventory twice just to stay busy.
The bell above the door rang at one point.
She looked up automatically.
Then paused.
A customer.
Normal.
Not him.
She forced a small smile. "Good morning."
The day moved slowly after that.
Too slowly.
Because every time the bell didn't ring for him, she noticed.
And every time she noticed, she got angry at herself for noticing — angry in a way that made her jaw clench and her hands grip the counter too tightly.
By afternoon, she finally stopped pretending she was fine.
She leaned on the counter, exhaling sharply.
"This is stupid," she muttered.
Stupid with a capital S. Stupid like checking your phone for a text from someone who didn't even know her favorite flower.
Because it was.
She had dealt with difficult customers. Money problems. Stress. Family pressure.
But this felt different.
This wasn't just disappointment.
It was betrayal mixed with confusion mixed with something she didn't want to name.
Because she still liked him.
That was the worst part.
She still liked him.
Even after everything.
Kathy pressed her fingers to her forehead.
"Get it together," she whispered.
Then she stood up straight again.
No more collapsing.
No more waiting for him to define her day.
If he was gone —
then she would be okay anyway.
She had to be.
Over the next few days, she focused on rebuilding her rhythm.
Open shop. Close shop. Sell flowers. Talk to customers. Smile when needed.
Simple.
Safe.
Predictable.
But something was missing in every hour.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just quietly.
Like a piece of the day that used to fit and no longer did.
One afternoon, her aunt stopped by.
"You look tired," her aunt said, glancing around the shop.
"I'm fine," Kathy replied quickly.
Her aunt raised an eyebrow. "That was too fast to be true."
Kathy sighed. "It's nothing."
Her aunt didn't press immediately, but she studied her for a moment.
Then said, "Did something happen with that man who kept coming here?"
Kathy froze slightly.
A pause too long.
That was answer enough.
Her aunt nodded slowly, like she understood more than she was saying.
"You don't look angry," her aunt said carefully. "You look... hurt."
Kathy looked away.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said.
"That's okay," her aunt replied gently. "But don't close your whole life because of one person."
Kathy didn't answer.
Because she didn't know if she was closing it.
Or just trying to hold it together.
Later that night, after closing the shop, Kathy stayed behind alone.
She sat at the counter in silence.
No customers. No noise. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner.
Outside, Merrow Street was empty. Hood River had gone to sleep. Somewhere across the river, on the Washington side, Brad was probably sitting in his glass house, staring at the same moon.
She hated that she knew that.
She looked at the empty space where Brad used to stand.
And hated that she remembered it so clearly.
"You lied," she whispered to herself.
Then corrected it quietly.
"No... you didn't tell me everything."
That distinction didn't help much.
Because the result was still the same.
She trusted him.
And now she didn't know what that trust meant anymore.
Kathy leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
"I still love my shop," she said softly.
Like reminding herself.
"I still have this."
That mattered.
It had to matter.
Because she couldn't let one person become the center of everything.
Not even him.
She opened her eyes again and stood up.
The shop was hers.
Her work.
Her life.
And no matter what happened with Brad —
that part didn't change.
Kathy picked up a cloth and started cleaning the counter again.
Slower this time.
Calmer.
More deliberate.
Because if she was going to survive this —
she wasn't going to fall apart waiting for someone else to decide what she meant to them.
She would stand on her own first.