CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BLOSSOM
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Today, the shop was quiet. Just the way I liked it. Sitting behind the register, I stared down at my phone, reviewing the order I was about to submit for next week's event.
Hydrangeas. Peonies. Ranunculus.
I frowned, making a few adjustments before adding more things to the order. The wedding season always kept us busy, and I didn't want to come up short in case a bride changed her order.
The bell above the front door chimed. Plastering a smile onto my face, I looked up, ready to greet a customer. I froze.
He was back.
Why was he back? He was just here yesterday. Was this going to be an everyday occurrence now? My heart and my staff couldn’t handle that. My heart was racing at the mere sight of this man.
I told myself to remain calm. I was the boss around here. I was in control of this situation. Rome was just another customer. I would not panic or let him see me fall apart. I swallowed hard, my grip on my phone tightening.
His smile nearly made me swoon. How could anyone be that damn handsome? And those glasses. Ugh! This man was pure perfection. As he walked toward the register, my gaze drifted over him.
Today, he was wearing a blue short-sleeved button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, exposing just enough skin to make me want to rip the rest of the shirt open. He had on beige shorts and blue shoes.
This man looked good in business attire, casual wear, and when he was butt ass naked. My cheeks warmed. Focus, Blossom. I drew in a slow breath, willing my heart to calm down. I had to stop picturing this guy naked.
I had to stop picturing myself riding his tongue until my cream slid down his throat and he begged for more. He was no longer my Romeo. He wasn't the man who’d whispered filthy promises to me through a voice modulator.
He wasn't the man I'd fallen in love with. He was simply another customer walking into my flower shop. I had to hurry up and reconcile myself with the fact that the curtains had closed on Romeo and Juliet. The play was over. It was time to move on.
But how could I ever accept that as a truth... how could I ever get over him when this man wouldn’t leave me the hell alone? My pulse pounded in my ears as I watched the man I loved make his way toward me.
Be still, my beating heart and pussy.
We cannot have him. Even if he was looking at me like I already belonged to him.
Oh, fuck. I should probably greet the man.
"Welcome to Blossoms and Vines... again...Mr. Cattaneo."
Though I sounded a bit petty, I managed to keep my tone warm and professional. His smile didn’t falter.
"Morning, Blossom."
Damn him and that deep voice. Where was a voice modulator when you needed one? The way he’d just said my name damn near turned my knees to jelly. I wasn’t really the swooning type. But this man was swoon-worthy.
Get it together, Blossom!
I forced myself to hold his gaze as he approached the counter.
"What can I help you with today, Mr. Cattaneo?"
"I actually came by to thank you."
My brows rose slightly. “For what?”
"The peace lilies." His smile widened. "My cousin loved them."
Relief settled over me. I was hoping those flowers would bring Marcel at least a little bit of joy.
"I'm glad to hear that," I told him, meaning it.
"He put them right in the middle of his living room. Right on the center table."
Hearing that made me smile.
"That’s the best place for them to be. I'm happy they brightened his day and his home."
"Me too," he muttered.
An awkward silence washed over us as he stood there, staring at me.
"If you ever need more flower suggestions, you can check out our social media page. We post gardening tips and share what flowers are best for what occasion on there." I smiled politely. "And you can order them online. We also take phone orders, and you can have the arrangements delivered to you."
"I'd rather come to the shop," he told me, stepping closer to the counter. "I prefer a more... hands-on approach," he drawled.
A shiver danced down my spine. I kept my smile in place, refusing to let him see the effect those words had on me.
"I'll keep that in mind," I told him.
“Please do,” he whispered.
Lord, help me.
His gaze lingered on me for another few seconds before he took a step back. Only then was I truly able to breathe.
"Actually, I was hoping you could help me again."
"Of course," I said, thankful my voice didn’t tremble. “What can I help you with?”
"I'm thinking about adding some flowers to my beach house."
"That sounds nice." I folded my hands together on top of the counter. "Did you have anything specific in mind?"
He shook his head. "No. I wanted to look around first."
Of course you do. Holding in a sigh, I widened my smile.
"Feel free to peruse the store."
"Thanks, Blossom."
You don’t have to keep saying my name like that, Rome.
My nerves were on edge, and my smile was starting to falter.
Please, look away.
Finally, he wandered away from the register, moving slowly through the shop as though he was really considering every arrangement he passed. Once he was no longer looking at me, I exhaled in a rush, trying to compose myself so I could put my professional mask back on.
I watched him for a moment, observing his behavior. He wasn't looking at the flowers. Not really. He was looking for reasons to remain here. Reasons to talk to me. Reasons to keep coming back to the shop.
Reasons to keep watching me, trying to decide if I was really Juliet or not. The flowers were just an excuse for him to be here with me. I would not give him a reason to tie me to his hacker. If I had to endure his presence for a few more visits, I would.
I could survive being in the same room as Rome Cattaneo without doing or saying something that would give myself away. I could fake a smile for as long as I needed to while answering his questions.
Eventually, he'd stop suspecting I was Juliet and start searching for her elsewhere. He’d never find her. But at least he’d stop coming here. I just had to wait him out. He leaned forward to smell a flower.
I held in my smile. He looked so adorable doing that. Damn, I couldn’t believe I was standing alone in my flower shop with the man I loved.
"So," he drawled while staring at a display of lilies. "What's your favorite flower, Blossom?"
I could do this. I could have a normal conversation with this normal customer of mine. I leaned against the counter, trying to act relaxed.
"I don't think I could choose just one," I told him.
His gaze lifted to mine. "No?"
I shook my head. "I love them all. They each have something different to offer. Even the ones most people dislike. Picking a favorite would be like asking a parent to choose their favorite child."
A smile spread across his face. And fuck me, I wanted to kiss those lips.
"That makes sense," he said, watching me.
Silence settled between us again. Not as awkward this time. Just... quiet. Like, no words were needed. Rome resumed looking around the shop. Every few seconds, I caught him looking my way.
When he was staring at another display, I looked down at myself, wanting to see what he saw when he stared at me. Damn, I wished I’d worn something cuter. Today I was wearing a pink, form-fitting t-shirt with our Blossoms and Vines logo across my chest.
I had on blue jeans and pink sandals. Nothing special. Nothing that should've earned the attention he kept giving me. Given the way his gaze kept raking over me, it was like he was seeing me with my clothes off.
Heat crept into my cheeks. Was he picturing Juliet's body every time he looked at me? Damn it. I should've worn my apron. At least it would've hidden my curves. My gaze flicked toward the hook where it hung.
If I suddenly put it on now, it would seem suspicious. So I left it where it was. Rome wandered over to another display, pretending to study the flowers there. Every so often, his eyes found me again.
The hope in his dark gaze chipped away at my resolve. I wished I could walk over there and wrap my arms around him. He looked like he could use a hug. I could really use one from him.
He shoved both hands into his pockets and faced the flowers again. So that was what he did when he was nervous. Rome was not a man who lacked confidence. Yet here he was, nervous, because of me.
I hated this. I hated what I was putting him through. But what other choice did I have? We were trapped in an impossible situation. No amount of wishing could change what had happened to Marcel.
No amount of love could erase the secrets standing between Rome and me. We were in a hopeless situation. All I could do was wait him out. And pray, he gave up on Juliet sooner rather than later. From the other side of the shop, Rome's voice drifted toward me.
"I know you don’t have a favorite flower. But if you had to pick one flower you liked best, what would it be?" he asked.
I smiled to myself. Placing my elbows on the counter, I rested my chin on my hands and answered honestly.
"I like flowers that represent love," I told him.
He watched me from the aisle. For a moment, neither of us spoke, neither of us moved. We just stared at each other as he considered my response.
"Flowers that represent love, huh? You mean roses?" he asked. "Aren't they the flowers of love?"
"Roses aren't the only flowers that symbolize love."
“What other flowers represent love?” he asked.
Before I could think better of it, I stepped out from behind the counter. Every instinct I possessed told me to keep my distance. Instead, I found myself walking toward him. When I reached his side, I stopped in front of a display of tulips.
"These are one of my favorites."
He briefly glanced at the flowers before returning his gaze to me.
“What are these?” he asked.
"Tulips. They're strongly associated with love." My fingertips brushed lightly over one of the blooms. "Red tulips represent undying love, loyalty, and trust."
I moved my hand to another arrangement.
"Pink tulips symbolize perfect love," I told him. "And purple tulips, they represent eternal love." Finally, I rested my fingers against a deep black tulip. "And black tulips..." I whispered. "They're said to represent sacrificial love."
My throat tightened after those last two words.
Sacrificial love.
How fitting.
"Tulips are ideal when you want to express heartfelt emotions," I continued. "And romantic commitment."
Another round of silence settled between us. I became painfully aware of his gaze on me. He wasn't looking at the flowers. Instead, he was observing me cautiously as I gently touched a tulip’s petal.
His hand lifted, and his fingertips came to rest against the petal beside the one I was caressing. Our hands were so close now, they were almost touching. We were so close, I could feel the warmth emanating from him.
I kept my eyes on the red tulips.
And Rome... he kept his eyes on me.
Damn, he smelled good.
I inhaled the scent of his cologne, letting it wrap around me like a comforting blanket. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my ear. I felt so small having him next to me this way, towering over me.
Yet, I wasn’t afraid. Neither was I intimidated. In my heart, this was where I belonged, right next to my Romeo. The shop faded away around us, and the world outside ceased to exist. For one stolen moment, there was only us.
Blossom and Rome, together, admiring flowers. In that moment, I let myself imagine a different life. A life where we’d met under normal circumstances. A life where it was safe for something beautiful to bloom between us.
A life where he could give me red tulips, and I could kiss his cheek, thanking him for loving me. Man... that would be great. Perfect. I mean, what more could a girl ask for? But this wasn’t a fairytale.
This was reality. And reality was a cruel, unforgiving bitch. I needed to remember that before I got lost in the make-believe. Pulling my hand away from the tulips, I took a step back, putting space between us before I forgot why that space existed in the first place.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rome take a step toward me. My heart skipped a beat. Before he could close the distance, I forced myself back into the role I'd been playing since the moment he'd walked through that door.
Clearing my throat, I asked, "What flowers will you be purchasing today, Mr. Cattaneo?"
“Blossom...” he started.
“Tulips? Or would you prefer roses?”
He just stood there, staring at me, hoping for something I could never give him. Hoping for my love, my heart, the fairytale ending that I craved. He wanted the same thing I wanted.
I could see it in his eyes. This man knew who I was. And he loved me. It was written all over his face. The love, the yearning, the pain, it was all there in his dark gaze. And it killed me to ignore it.
But then I pictured my mother’s face, Kelly’s face, and I forced myself to turn and walk away from Rome Cattaneo and all the love he had to give. Because I knew that the other side of love was hate. And that was one emotion I couldn’t bear to see in his eyes when he looked at me.