Page 57 of Forget Me Knot

“Hi. Jackson?”

Reluctantly, I turn away from Dinah and shake my head so the woman greeting me knows I’m not who she wishes I was.

“Oh, um… Hi, Jack.”

“Hi, Stacy.” I sigh and feel Dinah’s hand brush across my back then circle my waist in a hug. I gather her under my arm, but she quickly realizes I’m strung tighter than usual.

Looking up at me, she furrows her brow, searching for something—reading me like one of her romances. “Hey, I was hopin’ you could slip away for lunch, but if you’re not feelin—”

“Hi.” Stacy reaches a hand out to shake Dinah’s, while her other hand remains tucked in her husband’s. “I’m Stacy. I’m an old friend of Jackson’s.”

I know I’ve misstepped when Dinah’s usually sunny disposition darkens for a moment. She hesitates, but stretches out her hand. “Hi. I’m Dinah Knot. I own the bakery next door.”

“Oh that’s amazing. I tried one of your Cinnamon Twists earlier. They’re to die for.” Stacy’s voice lifts an octave with excitement in the way that I know means she’s sincere. I hold Dinah tighter. “I can’t believe you got Jackson out here this morning… at the farmer’s market. Talking to people?! Total miracle.”

I know she doesn’t mean to come off as pretentious, but as Stacy alludes to our familiarity it rubs me the wrong way. She turns to her husband, Liam, whom I’ve met only once when they hand-delivered their wedding invitation to my shop and asked that I create their floral arrangements. Thankfully, my boisterous sister was working that day and laughed in Stacy’s face with a “Bless your heart”before sending her on her way.

“When we were together, I could never get him to leave the shop or his apartment. He was just cooped up there all the time. But now look at him. You look great, Jackson.”

“Jack,” Dinah corrects her and tightens her grip on my waist. “His name is Jack. And I had nothing to do with him signing up for the market. I mean, he’s not here under duress. He’s a grown man with a business and a life. He even dressed himself today, too, if you can believe it.”

She’s lying through her teeth, but it makes me want to kiss her all the same.

Dinah begged me to have a tent at the farmer’s market this season. She offered me Bacon Pretzel Bites and my pick of our next romance read if I put Petals in the spring market, arguing it would be good for me to stretch my peopling muscles againwhile reminding everyone in town I sell flowers not bike repairs. She then all but begged me to wear a shirt she bought with aJoe Dirtquote written across it: “Life’s a garden. Dig it.”

And because I’m no fool, I’m wearing it today.

“Now, Polly. Bribeswereoffered.” I smirk down at her. When I flip my hat backwards, because I know it drives her crazy and her eyes heat up, I almost forget we have an audience.

She winks and licks her lips. “And accepted.”

We’re totally heading to the storage closet after this.

Now that we’re here, I can’t help but think Dinah was more than right to encourage me to set up shop. I had hesitations about being around so many people at once, but standing in front of a woman I once wanted to spend my life with, I’m reminded of how different I am today than I was three years ago, when Stacy left. Or three months ago, when I met Dinah for the first time. And three minutes ago, when I was under the illusion that Iwasn’tcompletely in love with the woman now smiling at me like I’m someone to be proud of. Like she doesn’t care what I call myself as long as we’re together.

This version of me may not have been enough for Stacy, but Dinah chooses me again and again. I let my hand graze down her spine and rest on the small of her back, pulling her closer when I wrap it around her waist.

“It’s good to see y’all,” I tell Stacy and Liam andalmostmean it. “Grab a premade bouquet from the table.” I hold it out for them and offer a curt nod. “Here. It’s on the house. Dinah and I have somewhere to be.”

I throw a sign on the table that says I’ll be back in ten minutes, grab my girl by the hand, and lead her towards the Petal’sstorage closet. Flicking on the light and closing the door behind us, I trap her against a shelf and cup her warm cheeks in my hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Stacy.”

“It’s okay, Jack.” She wraps her arms around me, rubbing soothing strokes up and down my back. “I knew she existed. And that you’d talk about it—about her—when you were ready. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

She knew, and again, gave me time to work it out. My feelings somehow grow larger. Overwhelming. They’re filling up every empty nook and cranny in this closet—and my life and brain and heart. I’m buzzing.

“I…” My fingers sink into her hair exactly like I’d been daydreaming about before the temporary interruption from my past. I let my thumbs drag along her jaw. Her lips. The spot under her ear that I know sends chills across her skin, studying every trembling reaction I garner. I’m breathless, ready to lay every mistake, worry, hope, and prayer out for this woman.

“She didn’t want me. Couldn’t handle what I was like after the accident and… It doesn’t matter now because…” I kiss the side of Dinah’s perfectly pink mouth and linger there. “You may have known about her, Dinah, but I… I forgot she existed.”

She snorts and kisses my lips, but I won’t be silenced. Not when I want to tell her exactly what she’s doing to me. She leans in again, pressing her sly grin against my mouth and soft curves against my body when the door flies open and we rip apart like we’re teens playingseven minutes in heaven.

Gram stands in the doorway, arms crossed and Charlie—absolutely delighted with the show—at her side. “Will you ever learn, Jacky? Stop kissin’ women in the storage closet.”

19

FORGET ME NOT

THE CIVIL WARS

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