Page 6 of The Heir

“Thank you, Emma. Dottie will love these,” he said with a smile.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Lukas—Only the best for Dottie!” I waved as he walked out the front door, lilies in hand.What would it feel like to be loved like that?I sighed and leaned my arm on the counter, thinking about how incredible their lives must have been together and wondering if I would ever experience a love like that. Happiness flowed through me then, and I embraced the feeling, although it felt new and odd.

“Excuse me, Emma,” I glanced up at the voice.

“Oh, I am sorry, sir—” I began to say—then, once registering who was in front of me, my mouth dropped open. It was him, Shad, my new neighbor. I felt my body jolt a little at seeing him there, being near him again. My heart had not quieted since I had seen him the day before when I bumped into him, literally. His presence sent my heart racing. Then a song, a melody, floated to me, the one I had created just for him. The melody was so beautiful that I had to fight the urge to hum each note.

His black hair fell flawlessly to his eyebrows on either side, parted in the middle with volume that made it look effortlessly styled. His jaw was perfectly defined, and his eyes looked into my own. He held himself with ease. Confidence radiated from his entire being. My heart started to beat even quicker, like it was about to explode from my chest. Clearly I was very attracted to Shad.That’s all this reaction is.

“Hello again, Emma. I need to buy a flower. I was hoping you would not mind assisting me?” His voice was like hot chocolate: rich and warm. He put his hands in his pockets, legs spread apart a little, in a stance that seemed to demand attention. He wore tan dress pants, which fit his body as if they were tailoredto his specific dimensions; tucked into those pants was a gray, button-down, collared shirt with a black, tie. I rarely had ever seen a boy my age dress that way, other than for a formal dance.

Perhaps he goes to a prep school that requires a uniform? But it is summer–

Maybe he isn’t my age, I thought.He looks absolutely perfect. Did he just step out of a magazine ad?

“Oh, yes. You have come to the right place, then.” I tried to sound professional, but instead, I sounded like I’d just been running. I was so out of breath, and I was sure that my heart wanted to attack me from the inside out, just to reach him, which made it kind of hard to speak.

I looked down at my chest, thinking:this is such a strange feeling. For so long, I had felt nothing.Now, my body is trying to kill me. Is this what heartbreak means? Like, your heart literally breaking away from your chest? I shook my head.That is a little gruesome—tone it down, Emma. Everything is alright; he’s just a boy.

Is he, though?I pushed that thought away.

“I have heard that this is the place.” He leaned his elbows on the counter, his face still far from me but close enough that I needed to step back to get some space. “I still haven’t gotten my wish yet,” he smiled. “I'm not sure that the wish granting pixies like me very much,” he said with a handsome little smirk as if he wanted to smile but held it back. It was incredibly attractive–everything about him was.

“Oh, well, it can take some time,” I said just barely, trying to steady my breathing at his reference to the pixies’ dandelion wish from our first meeting.

“Well, I am counting on that wish.” He winked at me, and the annoying heat beneath my cheeks crept upward, and I knew they were probably a bright, unpleasant, and obvious crimson color. “A flower shop in a city named Roseville—that must not be acoincidence, Emma,” he said with a smirk. As he spoke, all my insides turned to goo. The sound of his voice saying my name made me lose all of the cool I had managed to retain.

Something is wrong with me. I need to see a doctor.

The name of Mary’s flower shop was The Rose Village, so obviously, it was very much inspired by the name of our city.

Come on, Emma, get a grip on yourself, and don’t look like a complete idiot, please.I begged myself,Please, act cool.

“Yes, well, I guess my aunt was inspired. I love roses,” I blurted out that last part for no apparent reason and wanted to hit myself in the head for it.Why is speaking so difficult?

“Roses are very beautiful. Can I get one rose, please?”

I nodded as he pulled his elbows from off the counter.

“We have a fresh selection right over there,” I said, pointing to a display.

“I saw that. Do you think you could pick out the best one for me? I am not sure which one I want.”

I walked from behind the counter and was grateful that on that specific day I had worn a cuter outfit than just a t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. I wore a light pink floral summer dress, simple but pretty enough. It was incredibly hot in the summer, and I had learned that dresses were always the way to go when the heat made it unbearable. Mary warned me that it would be over one-hundred degrees that day, so I had also pulled my hair up with a clip haphazardly, which I hoped, at that moment, looked halfway decent.

“Of course, that is what I am here for. So, to help you, it would be good to know what the rose is for—” I trailed off.Why do I wish that it isn’t for some girl? Maybe, it’s for his mom.I laughed on the inside.Who bought a single rose for their mom? Well, maybe it’s her birthday,I told myself, hopeful.

“Oh, it’s for me,” he said, emanating confidence as if it was the coolest thing in the world for a guy to buy himself a flower.

“Yourself? You have a habit of buying yourself roses?” I raised an eyebrow, unable to stop my curiosity.

“I wouldn’t call it a habit so much, but a hobby, yes.”

I couldn't get enough of his voice.Now, that is a man, a man—buying himself a rose.“A hobby?”

“Yes.”

“Never heard of that one,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

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