On and on the thoughts turn as I finish cleaning the kitchen. My ringing cellphone pulls me from my thoughts—thankfully. Sara’s name is on the caller ID, which makes me grin. I haven’t talked to her in a few days since I’ve been trying to get back on schedule at work.

“Hey, you.”

“Hello, Levi,” she returns with a little bite to her words.

“What’s going on?”

“Did you happen to forget something very important?”

My brain starts scrambling over the last couple of days as I try to figure it out. All of a sudden, it hits me like a sledgehammer.

“Oh, my god. Sara, I’m so sorry. Your birthday was yesterday.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I’m the worst best friend in the world! How could I have forgotten?” I feel terrible. I was so caught up in making sure I was back on schedule, I lost track of time completely. Usually, I take her out to dinner at La Mensa—the best Italian place in town—and we gorge ourselves on breadsticks and pasta.

“You’re not the worst, but you are on my shit list right now.”

“How can I make it up to you? Dinner, obviously. Possibly a crate of wine to last you for years? Treats for your menagerie?” Sara has a very large zoo of pets she’s rescued at her house. They’re her babies. Getting something for them would be like getting her an expensive gift.

“You can take me to dinner tonight, then to the pet store for a shopping spree,” she counters, and I laugh at her choice of birthday gifts.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, then.”

“Be prepared to pay out the nose, Levi Jackson. You’re going to have to go big.”

“You got it.”

The overwhelming displayof flowers has me swallowing hard. There are so many choices in this garden of greenery, I have no idea where to start. What kind of arrangement do you get your best friend for forgetting her birthday?

I roam around Blooming Beautiful, trying to find something Sara would like and potentially help ease her ire towards me. I finger the leaves of a leafy green plant. Another thing to take care of probably isn’t the best choice since she already has enough to deal with every day.

“Sorry about your wait. I was fighting with a bird of paradise.” A soft, melodic voice comes from the back of the room. When I turn, it’s as if someone slapped me in the chest, forcing all the air out of my lungs.

The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen stands behind the long counter. Her black, kinky-curled hair is pushed back with a red bandana, and her olive skin glows under the early evening sunlight shining through the windows. Her large almond-shaped eyes are dark but carry a warmth in them so inviting I could get lost if I stared too long.

“Sorry, did you say you were fighting with a bird? Do you need help?”

A gentle laugh brightens her face as she shakes her head. “No, a bird of paradise is a big, green plant.”

“Oh, sure. That makes way more sense.”Jesus.I mentally roll my eyes. A bird? Could I sound any more like an idiot?

“Can I help you find something?”

“Actually, I need help picking out a flower arrangement.” I walk up to the counter, and the closer I get, the faster my heart beats. Am I nervous? This never happens. Talking to women comes naturally to me. Why would this one make me react so differently?

“Girlfriend, mom, or wife?”

I’m startled by her question. “Uh… none of the above?” I clear my throat. “She’s my best friend, and I sort of forgot her birthday.”

She looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I know. I’m the worst. Can you please help me get something that says I’m really sorry?”

“I’m not sure I have the skills, but I can try. What’s her favorite flower?”

I grimace.