Chapter 5
FIVE
ZOE
“Don’t you dare droop on me,” Zoe warned, eyeing the daffodil in her hand like it could hear her.
“Mr. Alders might be a grouch, but he still deserves your best effort.” The older gentleman known around town for having more bark than bite had come down with a nasty cold.
Zoe figured a bright floral arrangement would cheer him up.
Zoe reached for sunny yellow daffodils, their trumpets practically shouting “get well soon,” and paired them with soft white freesias for warmth. A few stems of earthy lavender went in next, then she tucked in sprigs of lemon leaf.
Zoe told herself she was focusing on the flowers. She definitely wasn’t thinking about the whole fake dating situation. Nope. Not one bit.
It’s harmless. Just a little bit of fun. What could possibly go wrong? she told herself as she moved on to the next arrangement, snipping the stems off white daisies and tucking them into a vase between soft yellow tulips and sprigs of baby’s breath.
This wasn’t a big deal. So what if she’d been lowkey fantasizing about Jackson since middle school?
Nothing bad could possibly come of pretending to date the man she’d secretly loved for twenty years.
Right? Except when she let herself imagine his hand sliding over hers across the worktable, steady and warm.
Or how easy it would be to tilt her head and kiss him, to find out if he tasted as good as she’d always imagined.
Heat pooled low in her belly, and she nearly clipped the daisy stems too short.
Snap out of it, Zoe. You’re supposed to be arranging flowers, not daydreaming about kissing your fake boyfriend senseless.
She knew life was not as simple as her daydreams. Because deep down, she was terrified of repeating her old mistakes.
Not that her ex, Ben, had been a mistake. She had loved him, and he had loved her. They’d built a good life together, which had made the break-up so much harder.
But there were certain things a relationship couldn’t compromise on, and wanting children had been one of those things.
She had brought it up gently, just after her ob-gyn appointment last year.
The doctor had ordered a few routine labs and mentioned that Zoe’s FSH levels were lower than average.
Nothing urgent, but something to keep an eye on—especially as her mom had gone into early menopause.
Zoe gently broached the topic with Ben. Thought it would lead to a conversation about their futures.
Plan out their wedding, kids—things they’d talked about.
Things they’d both said that they wanted.
That’s when Ben dropped the bombshell—he no longer wanted kids. It hadn’t been, “Let’s wait a few years,” or “Maybe someday.” It had been, “I don’t see children in my future at all.”
Zoe considered it. She really did. She loved Ben; shouldn’t that be enough?
She had friends who were child-free on purpose, and they loved their lives. She didn’t fault them for not wanting a family, but it was something she wanted more than anything. A chance to be a mother was deeply rooted in her soul, just like the flowers she planted and tended to in her shop.
In the end, it was just too big a compromise to make.
Zoe did what she had to do. She broke up with Ben, moved home, and planted roots. She’d even researched a couple of local IVF clinics she’d been debating reaching out to. If she never became a mother, it wouldn’t be from a lack of trying.
At least here, in Maple Falls, she knew she wouldn’t be alone.
It really did take a village, and she had one—the kind of close-knit community where neighbors showed up with casseroles and friends doubled as family.
She had Gertie, the best mom anyone could ask for, and she had her circle of girlfriends who always had her back.
And there was Tyler, raising little Emma on his own and somehow making it look easy. Half the town doted on that sweet girl. If she ever had a child, that child would grow up wrapped in the same love, laughter, and the kind of belonging that only Maple Falls could give.
Zoe knew, because she’d lived it herself. She’d grown up in a single-parent household, but she’d never wanted for affection. Her mother’s love had been more than enough.
Still, it wasn’t quite the future she’d once imagined for herself.
She had dreamed of romance, of building a life hand in hand with someone who wanted the same things.
But maybe that was for others—for Liam and Cassidy, who couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, or Madison and Zach, who were making up for lost years with every stolen kiss.
Maybe she was destined to stand on the sidelines, cheering them on, crafting the flowers for their weddings… but never her own.
And now there was Jackson. Different man, same dead end. Because as much as her heart tripped every time he walked into the room, he didn’t see her that way. He’d tucked her safely in the friend zone years ago, and he’d never given her any reason to believe that had changed.
She couldn’t afford to fall for someone again when there was no future waiting on the other side.
Zoe finished arranging the bouquet and set it aside for a morning delivery, then turned to her laptop. It was time to focus on something happy, and maybe a little magical.
The mysterious flower Edith dreamed of having in her bouquet had captured Zoe’s imagination. She could already see it: the rare silvery blue petals tucked among spring blossoms, and Edith’s smile as she walked down the aisle.
She pulled up a few plant identification databases.
Zoe was no stranger to native Midwest flora; between working at the national parks in the last decade and helping out at the shop when she was a kid, she could rattle off wildflower names like most people did breakfast cereals.
But nothing she found quite matched Edith’s memory.
She frowned, flipping through digital records and archived news clippings, but she came up empty.
Zoe was wondering where she should look next when she received a text from her mom. It was a selfie of Gertie with Mrs. Humphrey. Zoe’s first-grade teacher was holding out five twenty-dollar bills splayed out in her hand like a fan.
Dolores needs a new microwave. Told her to put her cash on you!
Zoe stared. Her mother was out of control.
She glanced up from her computer screen just in time to see her friend Krista walking past the flower shop window with her dachshund, Frankie. The pup wore a red bandana and trotted ahead like he owned the sidewalk.
Krista herself looked like she belonged on the cover of a lakeside lifestyle magazine.
She was casual but effortlessly stylish in a striped linen top, cuffed jeans, and lemon-yellow sneakers.
Her dark curls were pulled into a low ponytail, a few wisps framing her face.
In one hand, she carried a recycled cardboard drink carrier holding two glass jars filled with something golden and fizzy.
Zoe walked to the door, unlocking it and pushing it open with her hip.
“Hot Honey Spritz,” Krista announced proudly, walking into the shop. “I’m testing cocktails for the Hideaway’s summer menu. This one’s got honey, lemon, a splash of prosecco, and”—she lowered her voice conspiratorially—“just enough kick to make you forget your problems.”
Zoe raised an eyebrow. “One of your experiments?”
Krista grinned. “Relax. It’s not as bad as the tabasco lemonade fiasco. Probably.”
Krista owned the Hot Honey Hideaway, a summertime cozy outdoor café and bar attached to a boathouse down by the lake.
Locals loved her creative iced lattes, her inventive cocktails, and, of course, her grandma’s ice cream, which tourists, especially those staying at the campground, considered a family tradition.
“Come upstairs,” Zoe said. “I picked up some lemon drop cookies from the bakery this morning. They’d go perfect with this.”
“Ooh, now you’re talking.”
Krista followed her up the stairs, Frankie’s little paws clicking along behind them.
Zoe knew sooner or later she was going to have to tell Krista about Jackson. She didn’t want to lie to her best friend, but she and Jackson had promised to keep their fake relationship under wraps. And what kind of fake girlfriend would she be if she broke that promise the same day they’d made it?
Still, the secret sat heavy on her chest until she reminded herself that she was doing this for her mom. She knew Krista would understand. Her friend would do anything for her grandparents and her younger sister. She was protective of those she loved.
“I figure I might as well tell you before you hear it from someone else,” Zoe said over her shoulder while climbing the stairs. “Jackson and I are officially dating.”
Zoe tossed it out casually, but the silence behind her forced her to turn around.
Krista had stopped cold on the landing, eyes wide.
“Jackson? Jackson Hawthorne? The man who you said wasn’t even remotely interested in you? The man who’s been living rent-free in your head since middle school?”
“One and the same,” Zoe said as she opened her door.
Whiskers meowed in greeting before spotting Frankie and instantly puffing up her tail. She hissed and backed up dramatically, a low growl in her throat.
“Now, Whiskers, that’s no way to greet our guests.”
The cat gave Zoe a look that could only be described as deeply offended, then leapt onto the kitchen counter with a thump. A tiny puff of soil drifted from a nearby pot as her tail brushed past a planter of rosemary rooting in a chipped teacup.
Frankie, meanwhile, gave a cheerful little ruff and wagged his tail hard enough to knock into Zoe’s umbrella stand.
“Careful!” Zoe laughed, catching the wobbling stand before it fell. Behind her, a small stack of gardening books slid off the arm of the couch and hit the rug with a soft thud.
Whiskers stretched out one paw, slow and deliberate, dangling it off the edge of the counter. Frankie hopped in a circle, tail still going, then sneezed from all the new smells. The sneeze startled Whiskers, who let out a sharp mrrp! before disappearing into the bedroom.
Krista laughed, setting down the drinks carrier. The air smelled faintly of honey and citrus from the cocktails—and maybe a little of potting soil too.
“So,” Krista said, eyes glinting with mischief as she handed Zoe her drink, “how long have you guys been dating?”
“Not long. We were going to keep it quiet,” Zoe added. “But my mom saw us hugging last night and decided to bet on us being Couple of the Year.”
Krista burst out laughing. “I love your mom.”
“Yeah, well,” Zoe said, taking a sip. “Delicious, thanks, Krista. Anyway, so much for keeping things casual.”
Krista narrowed her eyes, lips lifting into a smile. “Casual. Funny, because last summer when you stayed over after wine night, you muttered ‘Oh, Jackson’ in your sleep. Twice.”
Zoe choked. “I did not.”
“Oh, you did. Frankie can back me up.” The dachshund gave a little yip at his name, tail thumping.
Zoe buried her face in her hands. “I hate you.”
Krista grinned. “Love you too. And clearly, you’ve been in love with him for years, so forgive me if I don’t act shocked.”
Zoe groaned and sank onto her couch against the throw pillows in shades of baby blue and sunny yellow.
Books and half-finished seed catalogs cluttered the coffee table, while her wall of hanging air plants gleamed softly in the lamplight.
The space was cozy and chaotic in equal measure—every corner bursting with life.
Zoe liked to think it looked creative. Jackson called it a fire hazard.
“Does he check all of your boxes?” Krista asked.
Zoe winced. “Not really? I don’t know…”
“Then what are you doing? You told me after Ben, you weren’t going to waste your time dating anyone who didn’t fit your criteria.”
“Geez Louise. You make it sound like I have a spreadsheet. It’s not that complicated. Beyond the basics, you know, love, attraction, honesty, I just want someone who’s a good human being and who wants a family. That’s it.”
Krista nodded slowly. “But doesn’t he have… how do I put this gently… some heavy emotional baggage?”
Zoe’s posture stiffened. “He’s been through hell, Krista.”
She hadn’t meant to sound so sharp, but the words came out tight and biting. She couldn’t help it. She felt protective of Jackson.
“I’d like to see you go to war and come back without any scars.” Zoe looked away. She needed to calm down. But still—his emotional scars didn’t make her like him less. They were simply part of who he was.
Krista’s face softened. “I know. And I’m not judging, I promise. I just…” She sighed. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to waste any more time on the wrong guy. I’m just reminding you. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
Zoe forced a smile. “I know. Trust me, I know. This was why we were taking things slow. But now, seeing as we’re not… I promise I’ll talk to him about the heavy stuff soon enough.”
Zoe decided to switch the subject, filling Krista in on the mystery bloom.
Krista perked up. “My grandparents might know something. They’ve lived here forever and half their stories are about old gardens and orchards that don’t even exist anymore. They’ll be at the Spring Market tomorrow—we can ask?”
Zoe sat up straighter, a thrill sparking in her chest. “Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t think to ask them earlier.” Owning the campground meant Krista’s grandparents had plenty of trails and tucked-away clearings that no one else knew about.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the thought of Jackson exploring them beside her. She could almost hear his low laugh, see the way he’d look at her when she got too carried away with one of her wild theories.
She blinked and forced a smile, trying to shake off the flutter in her chest. “That’s perfect,” she added. “If anyone knows where this flower might still grow, it’s them.”