Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Seeking Clarity
Lilly
Monday mornings at Bloom & Vine usually carried a quiet hum, but today, it felt thin—like my coolers, buckets half-empty, and stems slumped as if they’d given up. My regular wholesaler wouldn’t release another shipment until last week’s invoice cleared, and I was worn out from juggling.
With a sigh, I brushed a stray petal off the counter and reached for the office phone, deciding then and there to try the new supplier who promised next-day delivery and was happy to take a credit card.
But today wasn’t only about flowers. I’d promised myself—and Sawyer—that I’d stop putting this off. My hand hovered over the receiver, my pulse ticking like I was about to do something reckless, when really I was trying to keep my life in order.
I dialed Dr. Hall’s office, fully expecting to be told the next available appointment would be a few weeks away. I already had my polite brush-off rehearsed in case they tried to stick me with a month-long wait.
Instead, the receptionist chirped, “We actually had a cancellation this morning. Eleven o’clock. Would you like to take it?”
I just sat there for a second, the phone warm against my ear, my mind scrambling for excuses—the shop, Sunny, timing. But the word came out before I could stop it. “Yes. I’ll take it.”
My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
As soon as I hung up, I pressed both palms to the counter and let out a shaky breath. This was it. One small, sensible step. I couldn't keep dancing around our intimate relationship if I wanted things with Sawyer to keep moving forward. I needed to be ready.
Still, nerves clawed at me. I fumbled for my cell phone and tapped Emma’s number, silently begging she’d be free. On Mondays, the Historical Society stayed closed, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have plans.
“Of course I can cover,” Emma said, her voice cheerful through the line. “What’s going on? You feeling sick again?”
I dodged the question with a laugh. “Nope. Just need to step out for a bit. Won’t be long.”
When I ended the call, relief swept through me, lighter than I’d felt in days. Between the roses, the finances, and the doctor’s unexpected cancellation, it almost felt like the universe was nudging me forward.
Almost.
Not long after, Emma breezed in like she owned the place, a gust of cool air trailing her and her usual grin firmly in place. She set her purse in the office and looked me over with narrowed eyes.
“You sick again?” she asked, half-concerned, half-teasing.
I laughed, maybe a little too quickly. “No. Nothing like that.”
The truth sat sharp on my tongue, but I swallowed it down.
Explaining felt too personal, too revealing.
This wasn’t about being sick. It wasn’t even about fear.
At least that’s what I kept telling myself.
This was about being prepared, about planning ahead, about not letting my life trip me up the way it had before.
Emma didn’t press, which I was grateful for. Instead, she slipped behind the designing table like she’d been working here for years, already fussing with the ribbon spools I’d left in a crooked line.
Soon I was driving across town, my stomach tying itself into neat little knots, and by the time I walked through the sliding glass doors of Dr. Hall’s office, my palms were damp.
The waiting room looked the same as it always had—plastic chairs lined up like mismatched teeth, the faint hum of the vending machine in the corner, outdated magazines stacked on a side table. I signed in, took the clipboard, and updated my information with a shaky hand.
After I submitted my paperwork, I sank into a rigid chair, my body stiffening against its unyielding surface.
My gaze wandered around the waiting room—a mother juggled a fidgety toddler while a weary teacher, a familiar customer, flipped through a magazine.
The world outside continued its steady rhythm, filled with the ordinary chatter of life, while I sat there, desperately trying to mask the weight of what felt like a pivotal moment in my future.
I thought about Sawyer instead. About how his hand steadied me when we rode to the lake. The taste of his kiss when the world felt wide open, full of promise. The picnic, the way he’d looked at me like maybe I was more than just a florist in a small town.
But the memory soured at the edges when another thought pushed in—the calendar page I’d flipped over a few days ago.
The empty square where my period should have been.
I pressed my palms into my lap, shaking my head slightly. It was nothing. Just one missed cycle. Stress, probably. Not two. Not a pattern.
Just one.
My mind kept wanting to run down roads I didn’t need to travel, but I pulled it back and reminded myself. This wasn’t about panic. It wasn’t about fear. This was about being prepared to take control for once, instead of letting life make the decisions for me.
I held on to that thought like a lifeline, even as the minutes dragged into nearly an hour.
Finally, the receptionist came out from behind her glass partition, her apologetic smile already telling me everything. “I’m so sorry, Lilly. Dr. Hall was called to the hospital to deliver a baby. We don’t know how long he’ll be gone. Do you want to wait, or would you like to reschedule?”
The ball in my stomach released into disappointment. “I’ll reschedule,” I said quickly. Emma was covering the shop, but I couldn’t leave her stranded all afternoon. “Just…give me the next available.”
She tapped at the computer, scribbled on a little card, and handed it over. I tucked it into my purse, thanked her, and walked out into the bright morning sunlight feeling heavier than when I’d walked in.
I’d come here hoping for answers. For clarity. Instead, I was driving back to Bloom & Vine with the same questions echoing inside me, only louder.
By the time I pushed open the shop door again, Emma was freshening a silk arrangement. She looked up with a mischievous grin. “You were gone a while,” she said, tugging the bow tight around a vase. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I answered a little too quickly. “Just took longer than I thought.”
Emma didn’t press, thank goodness. She snipped the ribbon with a satisfying snap of the scissors and lined up the vase with three others.
Then, as if the thought had just occurred to her, she asked, “Hey, you didn’t forget about the Bennett twins’ party, did you?
Charlie and Wyatt—hard to believe they’re turning one already. Next Friday night.”
My cheeks warmed. “I didn’t forget.”
Emma arched a brow, a sly look flickering across her face. “So, are you and Sawyer going together?”
The way she said it—breezy and casual—still managed to make my breath hitch. I gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “We’re not ready to…make anything public yet. Still a lot for us to work through, so we’re just playing like nothing is going on.”
Emma tied another neat bow, her fingers moving with an ease that almost distracted me from how her expression shifted—lighter at first, then thoughtful, like a memory had just slipped loose.
“You know,” she said slowly, “it’s funny you’d say you two aren’t ready to be public. It reminded me of something I overheard once. A long time ago, at Ropers.”
I leaned an elbow on the counter, pretending to be more interested in smoothing out a wrinkle in the florist’s paper than in her story. “Oh?”
She nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were pulling the scene back into focus.
“Sawyer was there with Easton—this was way before the Powerball. I don’t even think you were in there that night.
Anyway, they were talking about Mosul. A woman Sawyer had been…
involved with.” Emma’s shrug was casual, but her words hit sharper than she probably realized.
“Didn’t know if it was love or just lust, but he sounded hung up on her. ”
My hand stilled against the paper. I forced myself to laugh, light and breezy. “Where’d you hear all that?”
“Like I said—Ropers. I was behind them in line waiting to pay my tab. They weren’t exactly whispering.
It just stuck in my mind because Sawyer didn’t usually talk like that, not back then.
Seemed…different.” She shook her head as if brushing it away, going back to fussing with the ribbon.
“Anyway, it was years ago. Doesn’t mean anything now. ”
I nodded, pasted on a polite smile, and bent down to scoop Sunny into my arms. She wiggled happily, oblivious to the way my stomach had tightened.
Inside, though, the words rattled. A woman in Mosul. Someone who’d left enough of a mark on Sawyer that Easton had heard about her. Someone I’d never even known existed.
And just like that, the man I’d been falling for felt like a stranger again, full of corners and shadows I hadn’t yet touched.
The shop fell quiet after Emma left, the echo of our conversation fading into the hush of flowers and stems. I sighed and sank to the floor beside Sunny. She padded over immediately, tail wagging, pressing her warm body against my knee like she already knew I needed the comfort.
My hand moved over her silky fur, steadying me while my thoughts spun wild. The wasted hour in Dr. Hall’s waiting room still clung to me like static.
I’d gone in determined, wanting to take control, only to walk away with nothing settled. And then there was the calendar page I couldn’t stop picturing—one month missed, not two. That didn’t mean anything. I repeated it like a mantra. I was fine. Everything was fine.
Except it didn’t feel fine.
Emma’s words about Mosul rattled around in my chest, sharp and unyielding.
A woman Sawyer had once been wrapped up in, far away in a place I could hardly picture, let alone understand.
Was she a ghost he’d buried or a shadow that still followed him?
He’d never mentioned her, and maybe that should have been enough. But it wasn’t.
I leaned my forehead against Sunny’s head, eyes stinging.
I thought about Sawyer at the lake, his smile softening when he’d looked at me like I was more than just a friend with benefits from our small town.
I thought about how his hand had brushed mine, how safe it had felt, how much I’d wanted to believe in that safety.
But now it all felt fragile. Like glass. One sharp truth, one crack in the surface, and it could shatter into pieces I wouldn’t know how to gather.
I stroked Sunny’s ears, whispering her name just to ground myself in something simple. The day had started with me chasing clarity, chasing control. But as I sat there on the cool shop floor with the weight of my own doubts pressing down, I knew the truth.
I hadn’t found clarity.
I’d only uncovered more questions.