Page 63 of Love in Bloom

“To clear the field for Michelle. When she couldn’t scare Wren off, she had her lease terminated.”

“Aww, it’s like that Christmas story,” Parker gushed leaning toward them. “The one with the young couple. He sells his pocket watch to buy her a hair clip, and she sells her hair to buy him a chain for his pocket watch.”

“Not at all the same,” Miller scoffed.

“Same,” Parker argued.

Croix leaned toward him, pointing a butter knife. “Man, she lost her business for you. Something she loved. What are you going to sacrifice, dumb-ass?”

“I don’t need to sacrifice anything since we’re not together anymore.” Miller tore into his cold steak.

“Sacrifice isn’t all bad, if you do it for love,” Jackson added.

“So whipped.” Croix smirked at Jackson and shook his head.

“No, listen. You give something up, but you get so much more in return it isn’t a sacrifice,” Jackson asserted.

“OK, Professor Love, if Wren lost her shop for Miller, what does she get in return?” asked Parker.

“I get partnership, something she wanted me to have.” Miller sighed.Wren gets nothing.

Miller’seyeshurtfromstaring in the dark at the ceiling. He’d been looking there for answers ever since they’d gotten back to the hotel after the bars had closed. He should try to get some sleep before checkout time, but the sun sneaking through the crack in the drapes made it impossible. Miller moaned and rolled out of bed.

He stumbled into the bathroom, drank three glasses of water, and swallowed two ibuprofens. After a quick shower and shave, he made his way down to the lobby. The staff were setting up the Sunday breakfast buffet. Miller’s stomach flipped as he passed the sausages. He grabbed a banana and a to-go cup of coffee, settled his sunglasses firmly on his nose, and headed outside to the River Walk that followed the Milwaukee River. Maybe fresh air and scenery would help him think.

He was a muddled emotional mess. Sorting through his emotions—anger, fear, regret, love—was getting him nowhere. He changed his focus to facts. There had to be a way to solve this puzzle.

One, Wren loved him. She’d said she did, but he’d said nothing, and the regret sat heavily on his heart. She’d caught him off guard. After all, most normal people wouldn’t tell you they loved you in the middle of a break-up. But Wren wasn’t like most people.

Two, he loved Wren, and not just for the short term. Not the long term either, unless it was perpetual.

Three, they worked well together, and not just in a work sense. She understood him like no one else ever had. She accepted him. Miller wasn’t conceited, but he knew he was good-looking and rated high on the hotness scale for some women. Not Wren, though. She didn’t complain about his looks, but they weren’t what mattered to her. If anything, she considered it a curse they had to bear. They made a great team.

Four, she didn’t want to be a law partner’s wife, again.

Five, his goal was partnership.

Six, she’d lost her location and apartment, and from what he’d gleaned from Eric, most likely her business, as well. If Wren didn’t find a new location soon, she wouldn’t be able to reopen Wallflowers.

Those were the facts. His six puzzle pieces. He needed to figure out how to put them together so everything worked. What needed to change?Change. Mrs. H. had said something about changing goals when they no longer worked.He wasn’t giving up on him and Wren as a couple, so that put the focus on the partnership goal.

He’d hate staying as an associate. He wanted a say in how the firm was managed, where the priorities were, what cases he would manage. Miller knew he’d have to pay for this privilege by becoming a shareholder in the firm, but he wouldn’t do it by marrying Michelle. He’d saved money every month so he could buy his shares when the time came. Damn! He’d worked so long for this. It was his dream. But he’d change it, if it meant he and Wren would have a future together.

By the time he’d drained his large coffee cup, Miller had figured out how to arrange the puzzle pieces. He headed back to the hotel for breakfast and to get Croix out of bed.

Croix was already in the dining area, slumped over a cup of coffee when Miller walked in with his breakfast tray. “Does your head hurt as bad as you look?” Miller asked a blurry-eyed and disheveled Croix as he sat down.

“Not all of us wake up runway pretty.” He speared a piece of Miller’s waffle. “I thought eating would give me the energy to clean up.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“One, and you’re giving me the bird. What’d I do?” Croix asked and speared another syrup-drenched piece of waffle.

“Just wanted to check your brain.”

“Brain’s tired, stomach’s empty.” Croix went to the buffet and Miller scribbled on his napkins.

Croix returned, his plate overflowing with waffles, eggs, bacon, and fruit. He plopped a waffle onto Miller’s plate. “I owe you. What’s that?” He pointed to the napkins.

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