“Jamie likes fishing?”

“He hates it. But Dad and I do, so he comes anyway. We didn’t used to invite him, but he would get pissy, blubbering on about not being included in family activities.”

I laugh at that, the idea of Jamie saying that not hard to believe. “You always did like silence. Is that why you go fishing?”

“That and spending the time with my dad. Sometimes I think he’s trying to make up for lost days and weekends from when Jamie and I were kids and he was still in the league.”

“Mine does that too. Or he used to when I still lived in Sweden. Once he retired, it was like he was trying to replace the time he lost.”

“How was it there when he was playing? Having a parent in the NHL is hard on any family, but I’m sure the Swedish league is just as bad.”

“Gone for practice, games, interviews, special occasions. The same. Mom travelled with the team, too, for a while, but she decided to stay home with me a couple years in.”

“She was the team physio, right?” he asks before eating a bite of his steak.

“Yep. But she didn’t want a nanny raising me, so she left and never looked back.”

“When did you decide you wanted to open a flower shop?”

“I used to play in the flower fields by our house. There were all kinds of them everywhere, really. I used to pick bundles and bringthem inside to decorate my room until there were bugs everywhere and Mom started getting all tense about it. There was a flower shop down the street from our house, and she started taking me there once a week instead. I’d choose a different arrangement every time, and I grew to love doing it. Having somewhere all my own where I can be surrounded by flowers all day, creating bundles for special occasions or sweet gestures, sounded like a dream to me.” I push my hair over my shoulder. “I know it probably seems lame to you.”

“No. It doesn’t. You’re doing what you love. That’s not lame at all.”

I want to tell him that that means more than I know how to explain, but I have a feeling he’s already aware of that if his understanding smile is anything to go off.

“Do you have a list of what you still need done before you can open?” he asks, directing the conversation again.

For someone who isn’t much of a talker normally, he sure seems to be chatty with me.

“More like scattered sticky notes all over the place.”

“Can I see them?”

I shake my head. “I’m nearly done. Only should be a couple more weeks, and then I can start planning the opening.”

“Avery, let me help you,” he pleads.

I fill my mouth with a scoop of mashed potatoes to stall, but once they’re gone, I sigh. “I’ve got a new light fixture that I need put in. It might turn out to be a big job, but the bathroom is in need of a sprucing up, and the painting is nearly done. Then I have to set up all the new shelves and put in my first orders of flowers. Planning the opening will come at the very end.”

“Easy,” he grunts.

“Easy? The first few things, maybe. But advertising myself is harder than you’d think.”

He looks at me deadpan, one brow lifted slightly. “You’re quite literally surrounded by celebrities. Use them.”

“Oliver, I’m not going to use my friends that way. I don’t want to have anything handed to me,” I argue.

“It wouldn’t be handed to you. You’re the one who’s done all the groundwork to get to this point. It’s your shop, your money dumped into the place and effort spent working to get it ready. You’ll be there every day. They wouldn’t see it as being used either. They want to see you succeed.”

It’s hard to ignore the warmth in my chest at the reminder that I’m surrounded by so many people who care about me and would help with this if I asked. I’ve always known that if I just asked for help, I’d receive it from every one of the people in my life. But it’s always seemed scarier than it should be.

Putting yourself out there and asking for help means admitting that you need it in the first place. Clearly, I struggle in that department.

“I’ll talk to Adalyn. But that’s it,” I tell him sternly.

His expression evens out, but there’s a nip in my gut that tells me he isn’t going to let this be at just that. I let it go for now.

“Alright.” He finishes his beer before starting on his water. “You called me your boyfriend the other day. Is that my title now?”