5. Lilah #2
Cara comes through a few minutes later, grabs her lunch from the refrigerator, gives me a quick smile, and disappears again. She doesn’t speak or ask any more questions, which I’m grateful for.
I take another bite of my sandwich and my mind drifts back to this morning. To Tempest as he checked the street before he got on his bike, it was a quick check, left, then right before pulling on his helmet.
He never mentioned the SUV or even asked me about it. He just looked like he wanted to make sure everything was clear before he left.
I stare down at my sandwich. I'm thinking about a man I barely know. I know he rides a Harley, I know his road name is stitched onto the front of his cut, and I know he carries groceries one bag at a time because he'd rather make two trips than risk dropping anything.
I know he notices things, recent events proved that. I don't know why any of it matters, maybe it doesn't, maybe I'm just looking for something normal to focus on after the last few days.
That has to be it.
I finish the last bite of my sandwich and crumple the wrapper; the workbench is waiting. Flowers make more sense than people.
There’s a sunflower delivery that comes once I finish lunch. This time, it’s not for me. A customer ordered a birthday bouquet, and the wholesaler dropped off fresh stems for me to arrange.
The second I lift the bucket from the box, my hands stop moving.
They're just flowers, I know they are, yellow petals and dark centers.
But all I can see is Lucy, standing in our tiny kitchen with yellow pollen dusting the end of her nose. She brushes against one of the blooms without realizing it. I laugh, and she frowns at me, completely confused, until I point at her face.
"What?" she asks.
I shake my head, still laughing. "You've got something..."
She wipes at her cheek. "No."
"The other side."
She tries again, missing it completely.
"Oh, for God's sake." I reach over and brush the pollen off her nose with my thumb. "There."
She looks at me for a second before rolling her eyes. "I was wondering why you were looking at me like that."
"You looked ridiculous."
"I looked beautiful."
"You looked like you'd face-planted into a flower bed."
She laughs, and I laugh with her, the sound stays with me long after the memory fades.
My chest tightens, not because it hurts, but because I'd forgotten that morning. I'd forgotten that laugh.
"Lilah." Cara's voice pulls me back. I blink. She's standing beside me. "I've got those."
I shake my head as I swallow back the memory. "I'm okay."
"I know." She gently takes the bucket from my hands. "I've got more room over here." It's a terrible excuse; we both know it.
I let her take them anyway. She carries the sunflowers to the other end of the workbench and starts stripping the leaves without another word. I turn back to the white roses waiting for me and notice that my hands aren't shaking.
The afternoon passes in a blur. I finish the delivery confirmations while Louise talks a corporate client through what they mean by impactful but not showy. The call lasts the better part of twenty minutes before they finally settle on a design.
She hangs up the phone and shakes her head.
"They never know what they want."
"They know what they don't want."
"That's half the battle."
She slides the order across the workbench toward me. "Do you think you can make this look like what we just promised?"
I glance over the notes and nod. "I can."
"I know," she says it so matter-of-factly that it catches me off guard, and then she picks up another invoice as though she hasn't said anything worth thinking about.
The rest of the shift passes without much happening. By five, Louise heads home, leaving Cara and me to close up.
I grab the broom and start sweeping the back room once six o’clock hits.
"You can leave that." I glance over my shoulder and see that Cara's already got her coat on.
"I've nearly finished."
She looks at the floor. "You've barely started."
I grin. "I was getting there."
She walks over, takes the broom from my hands, and starts sweeping.
"Cara..."
"Go home," she tells me.
I shake my head. "I can help."
"You have."
I let out a quiet sigh. "I feel bad."
"Don't." She keeps sweeping. "You look exhausted."
I give her a pointed look. "I've looked worse."
"You have,” she says deadpan and I laugh. "But not by much."
I pull on my coat, shoulder my bag, and pause as I reach the door. "Cara,” I call out and she looks up. "Thanks."
"For?"
"For today."
She studies me for a second before giving a small nod. "Get some sleep."
"I'll try."
"Good night, Lilah,” she says sweetly.
“Good night, Cara,” I reply.
I step outside, scanning the street; I don't even realize I'm doing it until I've checked both directions. Cars roll past, a city bus pulls away from the stop on the corner, everything looks normal, no black SUV. I let out a slow breath, adjust my bag on my shoulder, and start the walk home.
Tempest's outside when I get home. He's crouched beside his bike with the front wheel off, a wrench in one hand and a rag tucked into his back pocket. A handful of sockets are lined up on the ground beside him. He glances up as I turn into the parking lot.
"Hey," he greets me as I get closer.
"Hey," I reply.
He nods once and goes back to work. I should head inside; instead, I find myself slowing down.
"Everything okay?"
He looks up. "Bike."
I nod toward the wheel. "Oh."
"The bearing started grinding."
My brows knit together. "Is that bad?"
He shrugs slightly. "It would've been."
"But you caught it," I summarize.
"Yeah," he says, watching me closely.
I shift my bag higher on my shoulder. "I don't know the first thing about motorcycles."
"Most people don't."
"Good. I'd hate to be the only one."
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "It'd be a short club meeting."
A laugh slips out before I can stop it and his eyes lift to mine for a second before he looks back at the wheel. The silence that settles between us isn't awkward, it's easy. I didn't think that was possible anymore.
"You alright?" he asks.
I sigh. "It’s been a long day."
He gives a small nod, like that's explanation enough. "I'm glad it's over."
"So am I."
Another quiet settles between us and neither of us seems in a hurry to fill it.
"I should let you get back to it."
He nods. "See you."
"Bye." I head inside, my apartment key already in my hand when I see it.
An envelope.
It’s slightly under my door, it’s white, no stamp and no address, just my name written across the front: Lilah.
I stop. Every muscle in my body goes tight, because someone knows my name and knows where I live. I can't make myself move.
The front door opens behind me, heavy boots cross the hallway, but they stop a few feet away. I don't turn around, I can’t; I’m rooted to the spot.
"Lilah?" His voice is calm.
I can't answer. I just stare at the envelope. A moment passes but then I hear him move closer.