Page 84 of Cuts Like An Angel: Part 3

Chapter Thirty-Three

William

The thing with buying someone flowers is they had to be right. They couldn’t be those last-minute things. This was why men got such flack for things. A man with a bunch of flowers? Hell, what did he do? Did he cheat, stay out all night? Get too drunk with his friends? That was last-minute flowers. The kind that could be picked up from any petrol station. And William didn’t want that.

There was a petrol station close by, but there was no way on earth he was going to go there and get Rosie a bunch of flowers meant for lesser meanings. Hell no. It was like Dana said, this moment was to be celebrated, to be remembered.

He’d done a quick search on the internet. There was a florist, still open, not so far away. It was near to the docks. Well, just before them actually, tucked away in what looked like an indoor shopping centre that stayed open until nine. He just had to hope that they would have something for Rosie. Something that was right.

It was a good day. It felt like a good day. When William stepped outside, backpack in one hand, helmet in the other and took a deep breath, everything felt so easy, so calm. Like something had finally slotted into place for them both. Maybe it had. He slipped the backpack on, but before putting on his helmet, he checked his phone. Rosie usually messaged when she got to work, not always, but a good ninety percent of the time. It depended if she’d got held up or something. Today, though, it didn’t matter.

“Got to work okay?” he sent in a text to her. Adding XX at the end. He waited a second to see the read symbol show, but when it didn’t, he wasn’t worried. She’d be on a call or in some kind of meeting, or something. She’d see it when she got a chance and reply.

It was amazing how everything felt so different now--on his bike, peeling along the roads, roads that so often were just dark canvases for him to race through to get away from whatever was bothering him, but this time, even they felt like something. They felt welcoming. Now, if there was just a way to bottle this mood, he’d make a fortune.

By the time he reached the florist, he was sure his smile was even bigger than when it had started out. His ride had been filled with ideas. First, starting on Rosie’s face when she saw the flowers, and next, actually imagining what it would be like to have a child. He dismounted his bike, hooked his helmet on the bars and headed into the shopping centre. It was surprising how many of the shops were still open at this time, and for that matter, how many people were shopping. Of course, everything was decorated and ready for Christmas. Window displays made promises of the big day to come, and fast sales to buy gifts. The place was even alive with the sound of seasonal music playing.

The florist was right at the other end. On any other day, he might have thought that was typical, but tonight, nothing could sour his mood. A bell rang as William pushed the door open and a woman sitting behind the counter smiled at him.

“Good evening,” she said.

He nodded, “Evening.” He let out a breath. It was one thing to decide to come and get something good to give Rosie, but to stand here, surrounded by tubs and buckets of things he had no idea what they were. Roses, lilies, he recognised those at least.

“Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I’m looking to buy my wife some flowers.”

There was no denying the way the woman looked at him. “Lucky lady,” she said. “Any special occasion, or just because you felt like it?”

And that was enough, the stupid smile was back on his face. God, it was so strange to have that. To have this desire to smile and not force it, not worry about it. Just like his mouth needed to have a curve to it. “I just found out we’re having a baby,” William said, “I wanted to get her something special. Something …” he glanced around him. Reds, blues, yellows, so many shades of so many colours. “I have no idea.”

“Well first, congratulations,” the woman said, “Do you want me to help you? What’s your wife’s favourite colour?”

Was it so bad he didn’t know? He tried to think about it, went over things she wore, things she did, even when they were picking out things for the house. Did she have a favourite colour? What a great start this was.

Perhaps seeing William’s dilemma in his expression, she laughed. “Don’t you worry. Me and my husband, we’ve been married for ten years and even he couldn’t tell you what my favourite was. Maybe we could do a mixed bunch? Something bright?”

The florist was gathering flowers as she spoke, even holding them together like that created such a nice display in her hands. She picked flower after flower and laid them on the counter. “Sometimes I think the best ones are the bunches that come from nothing. So, we’ll have some blue, and some pink. You’ve got to have both right?”

William nodded. Totally out of his depth here. Hell, the woman could have said he needed black flowers, and if she thought so, he’d have probably agreed. His limit on flowers was knowing what a rose looked like and what a daisy was.

But he watched the florist as she brought the bunch together. She’d managed to have it so the blues and pinks scattered around and looked like the main colours, but there were whites and yellows, and shades of others so light they didn’t take the contrast away. She fixed them together.

“Do you need a box for these?”

“I’m on my bike,” he said, sweeping a hand down to wave at the fact he was wearing his leathers. “I was going to put them in this.” He turned his back, so she could see the backpack. It was a good size at least.

“Definitely a box then. I’ll put a smaller box around the heads so there’s less chance to crush anything. Just take it all off carefully when you unpack them. Do you want a card? We have a selection of them over there.” She pointed at a small display by the main window.

“Sure.”

So many occasions to buy flowers for, William thought to himself. Rosie liked bears, cute little teddy bears. He knew that much, so he picked a card that had the image of a grey bear holding a small flower. “This one,” he said, taking it back to the counter. “What do I write in it?”

“What would you say to her?”

He stared at the card. What could he say to her? That he loved her? That this was the happiest day ever? Such a small blank thing ready to make his brain run away. “Could I fill it in later? Think about it on the way home?”

“Of course. Might be better that way. You should get some chocolates for her too. Make it special. God, I used to crave chocolate when I was expecting both of my kids. I put on so much weight, but wow, did I eat a lot. I think I was eating for five, not two.”

---