down flower types and color, and today, standing in front of the picture window, she let her mind wander to just that.
She was shaken out of her freesia-induced stupor by the shrill ringing of the phone. She took a quick sip of water to clear her throat, and answered.
“Thank you for calling Posies. This is Elly.” And so went the day. Consultations, flower orders, processing, talking with Kim, yelling at Snarky Teenager—it was all a joyful blur of work and play.
At five, when business was winding down, Elly switched the sign over to “Closed” and watched the professionals driving by, on their way home to big lives in big houses. She sighed peacefully and leaned her head against the cool glass. Elly never dreamed she would be here. She never dreamed that she would have her own shop—her own life—after the nuclear sex bomb decimated her life in Georgia. Starting over was painful, heartbreaking, and exhilarating. She was anew. She was blessed. She was … really hungry. Pizza?
With a new urgency, Elly switched off the lights, took one last look at the quiet shop, clicked her tongue at Cadbury to follow her, and headed upstairs to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she reveled in the air-conditioning before stripping off her apron, and pulling off her pants and sweeping her hair up in a ponytail holder. She ate her homemade pizza quickly, settling on the couch next to Cadbury. A few television reruns later, she headed up to the roof.
The roof of her building, which was directly above her apartment, was a hundred-square-foot rubber-tarp paradise. Plants covered the ground, and there was just enough room for two outdoor loveseats covered in a beautiful terra-cotta fabric and bright-pink pillows to snuggle with. She loved to come up here to think, to nap, and to cry. Relaxing back against the cushions, Elly stared up, transfixed by the night sky, trying not to think on her past or worry about tomorrow’s wedding. Her elbow bumped the loveseat and she dashed red wine across her bare legs. She threw back the blanket.
“Crap!” she cried out loud and then instantly felt exposed.
She looked around and calmed herself. She was the only one up here, the only one with a roof-deck, the only one without pants. There was no one to care that she was drinking wine in her underwear, or that she had eaten a whole small pizza by herself earlier. She was alone. She was always alone. Shaken by the thought, Elly leaned her head back against the couch. It had been two long years since she had driven away from him. Him, the man whose name she would never think. Kim had been right. Clayton was … okay. She was okay. Elly lingered on the thought. She was, right? With that, Elly longingly began counting the hours until she went back to work, for at night, her loneliness awakened deep within her—a nagging finger pressing against her heart making her aware that something was missing.
Chapter Two
“I can’t believe that you didn’t mention to me, UNTIL RIGHT NOW, that she ordered another bridesmaid bouquet. Did you not think that was important?” Elly slammed the cooler door shut and glared at Snarky Teenager, who shrugged her hair out of her eyes and yanked up the pants that were barely covering her lavender thong.
“Look. I’m sorry. I checked the e-mail about a week ago and I forgot to write it on the contract. I suck. I get it.”
Elly rolled her eyes. “Don’t be sorry, just do it right next time, okay?”
Snarky Teenager nodded sullenly.
“Okay. Grab some of those for me.” Quickly, Elly assembled the bridesmaid bouquet: bright-pink tea roses stood out against pale-green hydrangea, yellow minicallas, and creamy sweet peas. Once the perfect loose dome was assembled, Elly carefully folded tropical leaves beneath the floating petals, pinning them with pearls. She grabbed a pear-colored satin ribbon and wrapped the bouquet, winding around and around until everything was taut and contained. Plopping the bouquet into a vase, she whirled around in time to see her volatile young worker texting in the corner.
“Start loading the van!” she snapped. Snarky Teenager sauntered out the door.
Elly sighed. Wedding deliveries, no matter how planned and organized, were always stressful. God help me, she thought. She grabbed her directions from the table, along with two flower girl baskets, and jogged out to the van. Once there, she ran through her contract verbally with her hormonal worker.
“One bridal bouquet?”
“Check”
“Four bridesmaids’ … plus the new one you forgot?” Elly arched her eyebrows.
“Check.”
“Personal flowers?”
“Check”
“Twenty centerpieces?”
“Check.”
“So we are good to go?”
Snarky Teenager nodded. She peered at Elly. “Why are you so sweaty?”
Because I’m a heifer, Elly thought. She ignored the question, but wiped her hand against her drenched forehead. Geez, I haven’t even left the parking lot yet and I’m soaked. Can it really only be the first weekend in May? Elly climbed in the car, slamming the door shut behind her.
“Make sure you don’t forget the Meske pickup at four,” she instructed. “I’ll call you on my way back.”
Snarky Teenager nodded and walked back into the shop, butt cheeks hanging out of her underwear that Elly believed were masquerading as shorts. I have got to talk to her about those. She knew she wouldn’t.
Elly pulled her van onto the street, heading for Interstate 40. The air-conditioning blew on her freckled skin. The wedding today was at the Missouri Botanical Garden. While beautiful and romantic, Elly loathed delivering there. Not only did the ceremony site feel like it was approximately a hundred miles from the entrance—Elly snorted—but it was hot as Hades in the African Garden and she was going to have to truck it all out there on her little cart. Elly turned up the radio, trying to ignore the oncoming trauma.
When she arrived at the gate, she was first waved through to the wrong entrance, where caterers’ unloaded white pushcarts and frozen shrimp platters. She drove around until she found a suitable entrance, which was still quite a distance from the ceremony site. Lifting the first box of flowers holding the bouquets, she carried it across the parking lot and into the bride’s room. The bride was not there yet, thankfully, so she unloaded the vases, taking a minute to admire their simple loveliness. The bride’s bouquet was white orchids, Queen Anne’s lace, white minicallas, and white roses with green berry accents. Next to the bright pinks, greens, and yellows, the whites looked even more radiant in their crystal vases.
Huffing back out to the van, Elly threw the box in the back and proceeded to grab the men’s flowers. The handsome young men dressed in khaki suits were actually nearby in the garden lobby, much to Elly’s relief.
“Um, excuse me. Excuse me?”
The men ignored her.
“You!” she pointed at the groom, who was taking a swig from a small bottle of liquor.
They looked up, annoyed.
“I
