Page 48 of Cocky Choices: Zoe Cocker

Zoe

I’m curled up on my couch, a blanket wrapped around me like a cozy hug, when my phone buzzes to life for the third time. I planned to call him back once I got comfortable, but he beat me to it. Persistent man, myfiancé. That word still feels foreign, like trying to speak a language I barely know.

I stare at the screen, Caleb’s name lit up like a sign for which way to go. Feeling as though I engaged in infidelity, I take a deep breath, hit the button and answer, “Hi Caleb!”

“Zoe! How’s it going?” His voice is bright, like a ray of sunshine throwing long shadows across my guilt.

“Oh, you know, just enjoying some quality time with my couch while contemplating making popcorn,” I fib, trying to match his energy. “What about you?”

“Popcorn, eh? Sounds good. Been a long time since I had popcorn. I just finished up a conversation with my father about the retirement dinner. It’s going to be a big event.”

“Five hundred guests is a teensie bit bigger than big.”

He laughs, “Indeed. They said it’s a go, that you’ll supply the flowers.”

“Really?” I smile, surprised. “You told them it was me designing them?”

“Yep, my fiancé,” he chuckles like it also sounds weird to him. “I told them you designed the arrangement in the foyer and my mother remarked that she’d admired it earlier this very day.”

“What about your father?”

“He didn’t see it,” Caleb confesses, an edge to his voice as he adds, “He only sees what makes him money.”

I glance left as Ralphie leaps onto the couch. “Meow!”

Gathering him up for a much-needed cuddle, I whisper, “That’s okay. It’s nice that your mother liked them.”

“She loved them,” he exclaims, enthusiasm returned. “So it’s official. I need your help with the flowers.”

With Ralphie in the crook of my left arm, I reach with my right to grab my notebook from the coffee-table, focusing on the scratch of pen against paper instead of the way my hand is shaking. I sit up a little straighter, excitement bubbling inside me as I force myself to focus on creating something special for all of them. Especially Caleb. "The Four Seasons has excellent lighting. I was thinking white peonies as the feature flower, with?—"

"Father's allergic to peonies. Didn't I mention?"

"No." I bite back a frown. "You didn't."

"Right. Well, he is. Perhaps roses? White and gold to match the hotel's aesthetic. Nothing too..." He pauses, searching for the word. "Experimental."

I think of the wild, colorful arrangements I usually create, the ones that made my little flower shop popular so fast. The ones Tom always said looked like organized chaos in the best way possible.

"Conservative elegance. Got it." I jot down, my handwriting messier than usual. "How many tables?"

“Fifty.”

My heart stops beating for a second. That’s a lot! In a bubble of stars I draw in ’50’ and stare at it. “Okay, got it.”

There's the sound of footsteps echoing on the other end. "And the head table will need something grander. Father's quite particular about these things."

"Of course he is."

There's a drawn-out pause, and I hear Caleb exhale slowly. "Zoe, are you certain you're alright with all of this?"

Ralphie jumps out of my arms as I sit up straighter. “All ofthis?” I blink. “You mean, the retirement dinner? I know I’m ready for this. I’ll do a great job, I promise.”

“Not just that.”

“You mean…?”

“The dinner, the wedding, our marriage.” He pauses. “The truth is, Father is hard to be around but you won’t have to endure that more than at the obligatory times, such as this event, our wedding, maybe a holiday now and then. I promise.”

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