Page 2 of April Flowers

“Why did you turn that off?” Gabby asked, straightening up.

“I love those songs as much as anyone. But I think fifteen hours of them is enough,” Margot said.

Gabby giggled and removed her apron.

“What time is Matt coming to pick you up?” Margot asked, reaching for the broom to sweep up the petals and other debris.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Gabby and Margot turned to find Matt standing there with his own bouquet. Although Margot thought she might throw up if she saw another rose, Gabby didn’t look at all bothered by them. Gabby flung open the door, then leaped into Matt’s arms. Already, they werekissing. Margot tiptoed to her phone to play another love song, sensing that these lovers needed a soundtrack. She made sure to keep her eyes away from them, wanting to give them privacy as they whispered about their days and prepared to go.

“I have a few more things to tidy up,” Gabby told him.

Margot interjected. “I can take care of it. You two head out. Have fun.”

Gabby gave her a steely-eyed look, one that meantlet me help you!

But Margot held fast. She wanted Gabby to grab a hold of her youth and vitality. She didn’t want her to let go of the magic she believed so desperately in.

You still believe in it!Margot wanted to say.Don’t you know how magical that is?

For the next forty-five minutes, Margot cleaned up. She switched the songs from lovey-dovey to normal indie rock with a hint of jazz. Her father, Frank, had loved jazz, and although it made her heart ache to remember him, she liked thinking of him in the living room with his head tilted, his eyes closed as he listened to his favorite songs. She liked remembering how much he loved lively piano solos and bass lines. She liked remembering him saying, “Margot, baby, listen to this. Really listen.” And she had, or she thought she had.

Suddenly, there was another knock on the door. Margot assumed Gabby had forgotten something, maybe her phone or her purse. But when she raised her chin, she found a familiar face gazing through the glass.

Her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.

It was Pete.

She’d told him she would text him when she got home. (Actually, she’d been trying to come up with a good excuse to get out of tonight before then.)

Margot forced a smile and walked around the counter, trying not to react negatively to Pete because she didn’t have the energy for an argument. In his arms, he carried a bouquet and a box of chocolates. The flowers were from a shop three blocks away. She could tell because they always cut corners on their bouquets. They always added really cheap flowers and baby’s breath to fill them out. More than that, she genuinely didn’t care for the way they put their bouquets together. They always looked gaudy to her, like they didn’t really care.

Margot prided herself on caring about every single detail. Every single bouquet. That was why she was the best.

Margot unlocked the door and brought in a fresh and cold gush of air. Pete held out the flowers, his smile widening. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Margot heard herself laugh. She took the flowers and had the strangest reflex to throw them immediately into the trash. “Wow,” she said.

Pete blushed. “I know. The last thing you need is more flowers. But you’re always giving out flowers. When was the last time someone gifted flowers to you?”

Margot didn’t say,Last Valentine’s Day, Robert gave me an even worse bouquet than this.She’d never told Pete about Robert because she’d only dated Robert for three months, and three months didn’t seem long enough to merit a report. But she’d only been dating Pete for four at this point. Would she have to tell her next boyfriend (if there was one) about Pete?

“I figured it would be special,” he added.

“It is,” Margot hurried to say. “It’s really special.”

Margot stood there with the bouquet in her arms and wondered what to say next. A particularly wild jazz song came through the speakers, one that her father had loved. But Margot had never told Pete about her father. She’d hardly told himanything. When he’d asked her about her family, she’d said, “They’re back in Nantucket,” then stopped herself.

She’d wanted to laugh when he’d suggested they go to Nantucket to visit them this summer. Pete, still in her life by summer? That seemed outlandish.

“I got tons of supplies to cook for you tonight,” Pete said. “I spent over an hour at the grocery store.”

“Oh. That’s great.” As she’d been trying to come up with an excuse for tonight, she’d let herself dream of silence and a big empty bed.

“I’m going to make Italian,” he said.

It seemed everyone was eating Italian food on Valentine’s Day. Margot imagined that everyone was overstuffed with pasta and love.

“I have to finish a few things here,” Margot said, although she’d finished almost everything by then.

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