4. Charleigh
FOUR
CHARLEIGH
It feels like embers have been smoldering inside my chest since the night I saw Asher.
I’m staring at my phone on the nightstand. The screen is black, yet there’s an invisible thread pulling me toward it. I haven’t been able to shut out the endless thoughts. The way my hand felt against the sleeve of his expensive coat. The rich and powerful scent of cedar and pine surrounding me. The flicker of resentment and aloofness in his golden eyes. Unjustified.
Turning onto my side, I pick my phone up and swipe to unlock it.
It’s late—nearly three in the morning. The bright lights of the city are blocked out by the blackout curtains of my window that I fitted when I first moved into my apartment three years ago. There’s an unread text from my mother, but I ignore it and click on the Google tab.
Asher Egan.
I type his name so fast I surprise myself. I’ve spent the past ten years working to forget him, yet here I am, lying in my bed in the middle of the night, Googling him. I’ve thought of it before only once. It was the year I graduated from NYU. I thought of him as I walked across the stage, my degree handed to me. I mostly thought of him because it had once been a dream of ours to go to NYU together. I wondered who he had become. At that point, I hadn’t seen him in four years. Had he moved on? Had he met someone else and gotten married? Was he better off without me? Later that night, after graduation, I considered seeking Asher out through social media but decided against it. He’d had been strong enough to break our relationship off when he moved to California. I knew I needed to do the same.
It was also the time when I learned dreams are fleeting. One minute, you believe you have everything you’ve ever wanted, and the next, it’s ripped away, and you’re left with nothing. You’re forced to build a new dream, a new way to move on. That’s what the night of my graduation had transformed into: a new dream. One Asher was no longer a part of.
Once my phone has brought up the list of results for Asher’s name, I rest my head back down on my pillow and place my phone beside me. I take a few breaths and stare at the wall, reconsidering. Why do I even care enough to search his name?
He probably hasn’t thought about me even once. Not until he saw me standing in front of him last night.
A knot forms in my chest when I realize I do care, and I hate that I do.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I pick up my phone again. The light casts a bright blue beam across my face.
The first result is a link to his Instagram account. I ignore that one and continue down the list. The second link is an article for Fortune Magazine’s Top 100 Fastest-Growing Companies. My eyes widen when I read the small paragraph beneath the link.
#2: Egan Realty—Asher Egan, 29, Los Angeles-based real estate executive. Up 93% due to organic growth and marketable investments .
I don’t click on the article. Instead, I stare at the text, dissecting each word letter by letter. I’m happy Asher became successful in his career. There’s an ache in the pit of my stomach, though, and I can’t quite shake this uneasy feeling. Why would it matter to me that Asher was satisfied and fulfilled in a career I knew he’d always wanted?
Because even with all of Asher’s faults, his ambitions to dive into high value real estate never wavered.
My thumb hovers over the link to his Instagram account. With my other hand, I bite down on my thumbnail and roll onto my back. I raise the phone in the air and suck in a sharp breath between my teeth before I click on the link, unsure of what I’ll find. I expect to see a page full of Asher and a woman—possibly his wife—or maybe several women. My shoulders drop, and all the air in my chest deflates. I don’t realize I was holding my breath until I feel my lungs filling with air again.
His account is set to private. It surprises me, yet it doesn’t. Maybe it’s for the best that I can’t see the kind of pictures I assume he has on his profile anyway. I roll onto my other side and open the text from my mother.
Mom: Are you coming down for Memorial Day weekend? Your father would love to see you.
I sigh, closing out her text without responding and dropping my phone back onto my nightstand. This time, I don’t feel that invisible pull anymore.
“Hey, Selene. How’s today going so far?” I walk through the front door of my flower shop to find my best friend Selene. The one who also happens to work for me. At least temporarily, according to her .
We’ve been best friends since the day she stumbled into my shop, looking for a job but insisted it was only temporary until she could find one in her field of work: writing.
But it’s been years since that day, and she still hasn’t left me.
Selene is finishing up typing something on the computer when I finally make it to the counter. Her fingers frantically dance across the keyboard. She waits until she’s finished before she finally answers me.
“Charleigh.” She sighs, looking exhausted already. It’s only nine in the morning. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her mouth dips into a frown.
I slide her one of the coffees I picked up on the way over. I may have taken a few extra minutes to soak up the warm, spring sun, hoping to start my day fresh, free of thoughts about Asher.
Finally, it’s starting to feel like spring. My favorite season.
Selene’s shoulders sag in relief as her eyes drop to the paper cup in front of her. Quickly, she wraps her hand around it and immediately brings it to her mouth. She takes a sip, then places it next to the computer.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“We are completely booked up for the next two months. Like, completely .”
I bite back a laugh. Being completely booked is a great thing, but something in the way Selene’s voice is laced with panic tells me there’s a ‘but’ coming.
“That’s great,” I say cautiously. “But…”
Her emerald eyes search around the room before landing on me again. “I’m not sure we have enough stock to hold on to the orders. We have the wedding coming up for the Motleys, then the week after, we have the gala for the art museum. Maybe we overbooked?” She flips through the open calendar on the front desk. “Every single day is taken.”
“Oh, no.” I place my palm against my forehead and look around my flower shop. My hands grow clammy as panic sets in. “I don’t think we overbooked, but you’re right. We should be happy that every day is filled, but this isn’t good.” This place is too small, and as more time passes, I’m finding more and more reasons why I need a larger shop. This place was inexpensive when I first bought it. At first, business was slow, but it seemed to take only months for me to have an event nearly every few weeks. Now, Selene and I are struggling to keep up with the demand.
The problem is, I want the large events. I want to be the florist who works for high-end clients. But I know I can’t do that if I’m stuck within the limited confines of these four walls.
I sigh and press my palms flat onto the desk, eager for a solution. “Do we have any room in the refrigerators in the back?” There are only three small commercial refrigerators located in the front of the store, but those are reserved for clients who come in on the spur of the moment, not for large catering events.
“Not if we’re going to store flowers for both events,” Selene answers, tucking her wavy, blonde hair behind her ears. She sounds just as worried as I feel.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” I place my hand on her arm, hoping to reassure her. I’m projecting far less worry than I feel, but it’s the only response I have in me before completely melting down. “Don’t worry.”
As if on cue, Julianna walks in through the front door. The bell above it clinks several times as her heels click across the floor. She’s the CEO of her own interior design firm, and her office is only a few blocks away from mine, so I’m not entirely surprised to see her. But I do wonder where she finds the time to stop by a few days a week to help trim some of the flowers or refill their water.
“Julianna.” I smile, hoping Selene and I can dissolve the fear lingering in the air. “Feeling better? ”
“Better?” Selene asks, her attention darting to Julianna.
She waves her hand, scrunching her nose. “I had a bout of food poisoning last night, but I’m all better now.”
“Gross.” Selene makes a disgusted expression before fussing with the single-wrapped roses we have for sale on the counter next to the register.
“It was awful,” Julianna says.
“Did Taron come over like he promised?” I ask, anticipating her response. I keep waiting for the moment she’ll give up on him and realize he’s a complete and utter dick. So far, no luck.
“No.” She frowns before shooting me a pointed look. “And before either of you say anything about him bailing, he didn’t promise he would come over.”
“Ok ay .” Selene sighs, resting her elbows on the counter. She’s still fussing with the twine wrapped around a rose. “But when your boyfriend says he’s going to bring you stuff to make you feel better, I think it’s safe to assume he’ll actually go through with it. Just because he didn’t use the word ‘promise’ doesn’t mean you should give him a pass.”
Julianna waves her hand in the air as if the room suddenly smells foul. “I know, I know. I still need to figure out what’s going on between Taron and me, but I didn’t come down here to talk about me.”
The glimmer in her blue eyes shifts toward me. Her mouth curls into a grin, and I can tell she’s wanting me to dish what happened between Asher and me. So far, I’ve ignored her prying texts about our meeting.
I smirk, avoiding the topic of Asher just as hard as she’s avoiding the topic of her doomed relationship. “We’re actually kind of swamped at the moment.”
“Oh.” Julianna’s eyes fall to Selene’s hands picking at the heart tag cut out of paper. My signature for every bouquet. “Anything I can help you with? ”
I open my mouth to answer her, but Selene beats me to it.
“I was just filling Charleigh in on the next few months. We’re completely booked, and I’m afraid we don’t have enough space to hold the inventory.”
I nervously bite the inside of my cheek.
“I think Charleigh is afraid to admit we’re in over our heads.”
I gape at Selene before turning to Julianna. “We are not in over our heads.”
From the corner of my eye, Selene mouths, “We are,” to Julianna, giving her a small nod.
Julianna giggles before shifting her attention to me.
“Really, Charleigh?” She raises her eyebrows with a satisfied smirk. “You didn’t tell me how last night went. How did it go with Asher? Did he agree to find you a new building?” The words spill from her mouth faster than water rushing from a broken dam.
“What?” Selene perks up. “You’re looking for a bigger store? That’s great.” She blows out a large breath of relief. “That’ll solve so many problems.”
I trade glances between Julianna and Selene. Shit. “Not exactly.” I wince, ready to hear Julianna start spouting off about how she thinks I chickened out from my meeting and so-called blind date.
“What do you mean?” Selene asks, her face immediately slipping into disappointment.
“Yeah, Charleigh. What do you mean?” I have a feeling Julianna knows more than she’s letting on. Maybe Asher told Holt about our run in, then Holt told Julianna.
Word can travel fast in situations like this.
Thankfully, a customer walks in. The bell jingles over the front door, and Selene is quick to assist her, leaving Julianna and me at the desk. But not before Selene spins around and wags her pointed finger between us. “I’m going to help this customer and then I want a full play by play of this conversation when I’m done. Leave nothing out.”
Julianna giggles again, and I internally groan.
Selene spins around.
I snatch my coffee off the counter and head for my office. If I’m going to talk to Julianna about Asher, I need plenty of caffeine coursing through my veins.
She follows me and immediately sits in the chair across from my desk.
I sit down in mine and place my elbows on the dark oak top. I rest my head in my hands and run my fingers through my hair, pushing it back off my face. I’m still looking down when Julianna breaks the silence.
“So, what happened?”
I release my hands from my head and sit back in my chair. “Do we have to talk about it? I decided to go with a different realtor.”
“Bullshit.” Julianna places her hands in her lap and sits back in her chair. She’s so sure of herself. She’s also right. “Holt texted me and said Asher told him you didn’t show up, which I know isn’t true. Asher is lying, and so are you.”
“What are we, in high school? It’s like a game of telephone.”
“You’re keeping something from me, Charleigh Keeler, and I want to know about it.” She pauses, then flicks her gaze up, nodding back to the front of the store. “Selene, too.”
“You suck, you know that?” I scrunch my nose, but then follow it up with a grunt. “Uh, fine.”
In the five years I’ve known Julianna, I’ve never once mentioned Asher. I guess now is the time. The words bounce around in my chest, dancing with the embers of a life I used to live. A life completely different from the one I’ve built and from the one Julianna knows.
I stare off at the pile of papers sitting on my desk. “If I had known it was Asher I was meeting, I wouldn’t have gone in the first place.”
Julianna leans forward, resting her elbows on the edge of my desk and her chin in her petite hands. “I’m listening,” she croons happily.
I look into Julianna’s eyes, feeling the heat in my chest starting to simmer. I sigh and pick up a paper clip, sliding my fingers across the thin metal. “Asher and I knew each other back in Connecticut. In high school.”
“Oh.” My best friend’s eyes widen, her pink links forming a perfect circle. Her back turns straight as a pin as she sits up, curiosity piqued.
I take her silence as her wanting me to elaborate a bit more. I’m just not sure exactly how much I’m willing to divulge right now but I know I need to start somewhere. Maybe it’ll help get all the stress and shock of seeing Asher out of my system.
“We started dating when we were seventeen. He moved to California the night of our graduation. It didn’t exactly end well between us. And by end well, I mean him disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving only a note taped to my windowsill.” I leave out the details surrounding Asher’s move to California. As the words sift through the embers and make their way out of my mouth, I’m realizing I’m not ready to tell Julianna everything yet. The sting of the wounds worn around my heart is still there. I swallow it down, willing it to fade.
“I’m sorry, Charleigh. If I had known…” Her voice trails off, and I’m thankful she doesn’t interrogate me any further.
“It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known. Why would you?” I tilt my head, reading the unwarranted guilt all over Julianna’s face.
I rest my palms on my desk and move to organize the loose papers scattered across it. “Anyway, he basically treated me like a stranger when he saw me. He made up some shit about not knowing Holt, claiming he wasn’t the one I was supposed to meet. I took his lie as an affirmation that things between us haven’t changed in ten years. He obviously still harbors some resentment toward me for whatever reason. I don’t even know why when he was the one who left and ended things between us.” I sigh. “It’s fine, though. I’ll keep looking online for a new place, and I’ll research other real estate agents. I’ll find someone else.”
“That’s good. Pick yourself up and keep moving on.” Julianna nods, but I can tell from the way her eyes dim that she’s saddened by my background with Asher.
“Thanks.” I give her a warm smile.
“I have an idea.” She perks, changing the subject.
I’m not as quick to pull out of my nostalgic mood. “What’s your idea?” I begrudgingly ask, scared for the answer. Julianna’s ideas don’t always turn out for the best.
“Holt has a friend opening a bar this weekend.” Her grin stretches from ear to ear, and her eyes sparkle. “It’s marketed as a soft opening, but everyone knows all the elites will be there. We can score a few drinks and forget our relationship disasters while plotting your expansion.”
I shake my head, blowing out a heavy breath. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, Charleigh.” She taps her fingers on the edge of my desk. “I could really use a night out with my girls, and you could use a night out from the solitary confinement of your apartment.”
“My apartment is not solitary confinement.”
“May as well be.”
Despite the knots of sadness tightening in my chest, I cave. “Fine. ”
Her spine straightens, and she squeals, clapping her hands. “Yay! I can’t wait.”
She stands in front of my desk and hitches her thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll give you a few minutes, and I’ll catch Selene up on everything. As long as she’s done helping that customer.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. She’d probably kill us both if we don’t fill her in about Asher as soon as possible… or tell her about your scheme to get us all to go out this weekend.”
“She’s going to love the idea, and you’ve got to love her.” Julianna beams.
“I do, and I love you, too.”
Even if the past has come back to hang over me like a dark cloud, my best friends have come through, carrying the sun with them.
Once Julianna leaves my office, I close the door to think. Selene can handle the front desk for a few more minutes while I figure out what to do about finding a new store.
I open my computer and start browsing the internet for real estate agents who specialize in business spaces as opposed to residential. I need a knowledgeable agent who’s familiar with the ins and outs of both the city and accommodating a flower shop’s needs. The clock is ticking.
After an hour of research, I finally find someone with credentials close to what I’m looking for: Cyrus Temper.
I type in the address to his office and grin when I notice it’s the same building Holt works in. Maybe he knows him, too. I call and set up an appointment for tomorrow.
For the first time since seeing Asher, I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hopefully, this new realtor will find me the second storefront I so desperately need.