Page 20 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

Then I stepped forward.

My boot splashed.

No. No, no, no.

I flicked on the main light, and the full horror hit me like a punch to the chest.

Water. Everywhere.

Petals floated in puddles. Buckets had overflowed. The floor was slick, warped in places. Stems drooped against toppled shelving. An entire corner of my cooler’s wall had darkened with spreading damp, the paint bubbling like it had a secret it no longer wanted to keep.

A pipe. Somewhere behind the prep station wall. The copper one I'd been meaning to replace but kept putting off because of budget and timing and life.

I dropped my thermos and ran, heart racing, slipping slightly as I rounded the back.

The pipe had burst clean through the drywall.

Water gushed from the crack like a nightmare faucet. Cardboard boxes were soaked through. My signature ribbon stash—twenty shades of perfection—was now a watercolor disaster bleeding into each other.

I dropped to my knees in the wreckage, hands flying over fallen blooms, trying to save what I could. Gerbera daisies. Tulips. Ranunculus. My fingers trembled as I sorted, tossed, sobbed—half-cursing, half-praying.

I didn’t even hear Hazel come in until I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Ruby?” she breathed. “Oh my—what happened?”

I shook my head. Couldn’t form words. Could barely breathe around the tight knot in my throat.

Hazel took one look at the water damage, at me on the floor surrounded by flowers gasping their last, and dropped beside me.

“I worked so hard,” I said. My voice cracked right down the middle. “Hazel, I worked sohard.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“This week was supposed to be big. Memorial service. Gala. Business of the Year. I had orders lined up, backups scheduled—”

“I know.”

“Now it’s all ruined.”

She wrapped her arms around me. Her cardigan was damp before I even realized I was crying into it.

“It’s not ruined,” she said softly. “It’s just… a really crappy plot twist.”

I choked out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.

She pulled back and cupped my face in her palms. “Ruby. You are scrappy, brilliant, and borderline dangerous with a glue gun. This is not the end. It’s a setback.”

“A wet, expensive, flower-murdering setback.”

Hazel offered a smile. “The worst kind.”

I nodded, blinking away more tears. My hands were shaking. My shirt stuck to my skin. I suddenly felt like a little girl who’d tried to build something beautiful and watched it collapse all over again.

“I just need air,” I murmured.

Hazel nodded. “Go. I’ll stay here. Call the plumber. Start sorting.”

I didn’t argue. I grabbed my jacket and fled.

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