Page 12 of A Heart in Bloom

Allen chuckled, the warmth of her words still settling in his chest. “Your turn,” he prompted, their boots crunching softly on the frozen crystals blanketing the sidewalk.

Cammie hesitated, glancing up at him with a meaningful gaze. “I’m trusting you to keep this to yourself,” she began cautiously.

“You can trust me, Cammie. With anything,” he said earnestly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Taking a deep breath, much like he had earlier, she confessed, “I hate Valentine’s Day.”

Allen stopped abruptly, causing Cammie to halt alongside him. His surprised expression made her laugh softly as she shrugged, her body language signaling it wasn’t a big deal—even if her confession felt oddly significant.

“You? A florist? Hating Valentine’s Day?” Allen asked, incredulous but clearly amused. “I need an explanation. Is it because it’s such a stressful, hectic time for you, or is there more?”

He saw indecision flicker across her face. Determined not to push if she wasn’t ready, he softened his tone. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know.”

After a pause, she reclaimed his arm and resumed their slow walk, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t always hate Valentine’s Day. I used to love it. Sure, it’s overly commercialized, but I thought it was beautiful that so many people took the same day to celebrate love. Back then, I was young and naïve.”

She sighed, her breath clouding in the cold air. “Eventually, I realized it’s more of a day for lazy men to put in a bare minimum effort, all to appease women who’d probably given up on any genuine expression of love.”

“Ouch.” Allen winced, his voice gentle but tinged with humor. “That’s pretty cynical. Did this epiphany happen after you became a florist?”

“Not when I was just a florist in someone else’s shop, but when I opened my own, yes,” she said, her voice heavy with the weight of memory. “And I have plenty of evidence to support my jaded outlook on the day.”

Another sigh escaped her lips, a warm puff of air dissipating into the crisp night as she gathered herself. “It started whenI moved to Glacier Ridge. Living and working there, I was surrounded by wealthy vacationers escaping their real lives for a time. What I didn’t realize was how many were also escaping their spouses—sometimes even while vacationing together. The first time I delivered flowers for a married man, both to his wife and his mistress, it broke my heart. But I couldn’t say anything without ruining my business. Who knew florists were the gatekeepers of so many ugly secrets?”

Allen’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent, sensing there was more.

“I tried to brush it off for years,” she continued, her voice growing quieter. “But then I started taking orders through a big online florist network to keep my shop afloat, and—” Her voice faltered, the words catching in her throat.

He stepped closer, his steady presence an unspoken encouragement.

Cammie drew in a shaky breath before finishing, “That’s when I got to experience the betrayal firsthand...”

Chapter Eleven

Allen didn’t say anything as Cammie drew a shaky breath, gathering her thoughts and, perhaps, her emotions. A sickening feeling churned in his gut. He had an idea where this was going—and it wasn’t anywhere good.

“My fiancé was always traveling for work, doing whatever it is real estate attorneys do, while Harrington Development expanded. Neighboring states, Europe—you name it. I stayed busy with my shop and didn’t mention the online orders I took to fill the off-season lull. When his order came through, I didn’t think twice, just added it to my list.”

She paused, her voice faltering slightly before she pressed on. “But when it came time to make deliveries, and I saw that bouquet on my list, something made me double-check the sender and credit card information. Sure enough, the enormous bouquet of roses he always sent me for Valentine’s Day was addressed to someone else. I knew he’d recently bought a new chalet up the mountain and figured it was a surprise for our wedding. He’d told me it was going to be a rental, so I didn’t question it.”

Her words slowed, as if picking through painful memories. “I made all my deliveries, rushed home to change, and waited, thinking he’d call or text me with a late dinner invitation. He didn’t. So, at the last professional moment to deliver flowers, I drove up the mountain to the chalet. It was gorgeous, with a breathtaking view of the valley. I rang the doorbell, still thinking it was a surprise for me.”

Cammie let out a bitter laugh. “A stunning blonde with a rock the size of Texas opened the door. She gushed over the flowers, saying she thought her fiancé had forgotten her and was about to send him a scathing text. Then she scolded me for delivering them so late.”

“That’s crazy! Was that his way of ending things?” Allen asked, incredulous.

“Oh no,” Cammie replied, her voice dripping with disdain. “When I got back to the shop, there was another order in my inbox—from him, for me. He’d obviously forgotten. There was even a note with a hundred-dollar tip approved if the delivery was marked ‘same day.’” She shook her head, her laugh humorless. “So, I marked it delivered and started thinking about what I was going to buy myself with his generous gift.”

She paused, her gaze distant. “It took him six months to finally come clean.”

Allen’s jaw tightened as they reached her van. “What did he have to say for himself?” he asked, struggling to understand what kind of man could do something so heartless—especially to someone as kind as Cammie.

“He didn’t say much,” Cammie admitted, her voice tight with restraint. “Just that our lives had taken different paths, and I wasn’t the woman who could make him happy. He said we both knew I wouldn’t fit into his world, so he’d found someone who could. Then, to top it all off, he asked me to keep our separation a secret. Said there were too many undecided factors with his career, and if I ever loved him—or even cared as a friend—I wouldn’t blow up his life.”

Allen’s hand curled into a loose fist at his side. “And did you? Keep quiet?”

“Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “There wasn’t really anyone to tell. Everyone in Glacier Ridge already knew I’d been traded for a model with long legs, golden hair, and a laugh that turned heads while conveniently hiding how little she had to say. The only ones left in the dark were our families—and what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.”

Her voice softened slightly. “If my mother found out I was single, she’d lose her mind. In the most graceful, socially acceptable way, of course. But she and Judson’s mother would’ve pulled out all the stops to get us back together, and I couldn’t let that happen. I figured eventually he’d get his act together, announce his engagement, and it would all be over.”

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