Page 12 of Destiny

“Oh, Mr. Cafaro! Who is the lucky lady?” Gladys, the owner of the store, says before ringing me up. “You’re usually only in here to get Casa Blanca lilies for your girls.”

Ever since they were little, we made it a tradition that I would get those special flowers, which seemed to be their favorites, for special occasions. And Gladys always made sure to save some for me.

I had to laugh. “Do you know Bea Carter?”

“Of course, darling. I know everybody in this town.”

“They’re for her. She helped me out with my kids this morning.”

“Aw. She’s always been such a sweet girl. Ever since she was this high.” She illustrates her point by holding her hand near her hip.

“Yeah, she’s pretty special.”

“How’d you know that sunflowers are her favorite?”

“They are? I honestly just guessed.”

“Well, good guess. That’ll be $19.75.”

“Okay, great.”

“Pardon me if I’m overstepping. But I see a lot of starry-eyed men come through those doors, so I’ve gotten particularly good at spotting you fellas . . .”

“What do you mean?” I ask while pulling my debit card out of my wallet.

“You just have a look about you. Like you’re in love or something.”

I shift uncomfortably between my feet. “I—I mean, I am. But the only girls on my mind are named Alessia and Aurora.” Of course, that was a huge lie—not that I didn’t love my daughters, but that Bea wasn’t constantly occupying my brain.

She looks at me skeptically. “If you say so. Do you need a receipt?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Gotcha. Well, have a great day.”

“You too.”

Oh, no. Are my feelings for Bea really that clearly written on my face?

Chapter 5 – Bea

“So, how did last night go with the Italian stallion?” Micky, my co-worker, roommate, and best friend asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit. I know you didn’t come home until late last night.”

“It wasn’t that late.”

“Bea, any time past 8:30 is late for you.”

“Hey!” I playfully smack the brim of her newsboy cap, which was partially concealing her short, bright red hair.

“Am I wrong?”

“. . . no.”

“Thank you. So, what were you up to?”

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