Page 1 of The Florist By Chance
Chapter One
The lawyer’s words still echo in the quiet of Collins Florals. Half the shop belongs to me now.
Half.
The number itself feels wrong, like a shirt two sizes too small pressing against my chest until I can’t quite breathe. I trace the wood grain beneath my palm, searching for something steady. The polished surface is cold, unfamiliar, as if it remembers someone else’s hand, not mine.
Outside, the town hums faintly—a passing car, the creak of the bakery sign across the street. Familiar sounds. Ghosts of a life I left behind. I’ve been gone for years, running through firehouses, doing my duty. I told myself I didn’t miss this place, this small town. Told myself that roots were for other men, the kind who stayed put and settled for ordinary. But now, with the smell of roses clinging to my jacket, the scent settling into my skin, I feel every mile I’ve put between myself and this place. I feel it in the tightness in my ribs, in the ache that I can’t shake off no matter how many cities I’ve hidden in.
The air is thick with green things—stems, blossoms, earth. A far cry from the sterile glass and steel of San Francisco, where nothing smells alive unless it’s bottled and sold at a premium.Here, everything’s real. Everything’s raw. The vines curling on the window panes, the petals unfolding slowly, the familiar hum of the old cooling system in the back—it all makes this place feel like home, even though I haven’t lived here in years.
I shift my weight, boots creaking against the worn floorboards. The sound is loud, too loud in the quiet. It feels like an intrusion. Like I don’t belong here anymore.
“Mr. Carter?” The lawyer’s voice is too sharp, cutting through the stillness. It pulls me back to the moment, yanking me from the weight of my own thoughts. “We’ll need your signature here and here.”
I nod absently, my fingers brushing the edges of the papers in front of me. The man’s words fade into the background as my gaze drifts to the room around me. The shop. Collins Florals.
A memory presses in, unwanted, but persistent. The smell of roses. The warmth of the greenhouse in the summer. Collins’s gentle laugh as he showed me how to care for the plants, teaching me the patience it took to watch something grow. It wasn’t just about flowers; it was about nurturing something that would take time. I wonder if I’m capable of that anymore. The weight of the will in my hand feels like an anchor, heavy with the expectation of a future I didn’t choose.
I glance up again, and that’s when I see her.
Mia.
She shifts in the corner of my vision, her eyes flicking toward me. A moment of quiet tension, then she locks eyes with me. There’s no mistaking the fire in her gaze. The woman standing before me is not the little girl who used to trail after Jake when I’d visit. That girl’s long gone, replaced by someone with a confidence that radiates out from her. She’s all sharp edges, standing tall, her posture bold. But it’s not just the fierceness I notice. It’s the way she holds herself, the way her arms are crossed tight over her chest, the stubborn set of her jaw.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a strange, unsettled feeling crawling up my spine. I remember Jake’s little sister, the way she used to laugh so easily, so freely. That’s not who she is anymore. There’s something more in her eyes now—something I can’t name. A hurt? A betrayal? It’s raw, and it’s real.
“Half?” she asks, her voice sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her words hit me harder than they should. A sharp breath escapes me, and I can feel the tension between us growing, thickening. I’m not prepared for this. I’m not prepared for her to look at me like that, like I’m the one who’s betrayed her. Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t. The lawyer’s presence feels like an afterthought now, a shadow in the room, because all I can see is Mia.
She stands there, her arms still crossed, waiting for me to respond. The challenge in her eyes dares me to speak, dares me to explain myself. But the words won’t come. They’re stuck somewhere deep inside me, trapped between the past and the present.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. And for the first time in a long while, I realize I’m not sure what to say.
The air between us feels tight now, charged. Every breath I take feels heavier than the last. Mia’s eyes are still on me, locked with mine, and in those few seconds, I know this isn’t just about a shop. It’s not just about Collins’s will or the strange weight of his death still hanging in the air. No, this is about something deeper. Something that stretches between us—something I can’t ignore, no matter how much I want to.
I look away, pretending to focus on the papers in front of me, but my hand shakes as I pick up the pen. The tip hovers over the line, but it’s like the weight of the ink is too much. Too final.
I can feel her gaze still on me, burning.
“Half of this shop?” she says again, her voice softer but with that edge. “You think that’s going to be enough?”
Her words linger in the space between us, sharp and accusing. She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she moves, stepping around the counter, close enough that I can smell the faint, earthy sweetness of the flowers clinging to her clothes. Roses, probably. It seems fitting. She’s always been a force of nature in her own quiet way, but now there’s something wild in the way she moves—something uncontained.
The lawyer’s cough breaks through the silence again. “The terms are clear,” he says, trying his best to remain the neutral third party, but even his voice trembles under the pressure of the standoff in front of him. “It’s a legally binding agreement, Ms. Jennings. If you both sign, the business is yours to run for the next six months. After that, you’ll be free to make decisions about ownership.”
Mia’s head jerks toward the lawyer, but she doesn’t break eye contact with me. “Free? That’s rich,” she mutters, the bitterness in her voice making it clear how much she resents the idea of sharing control with someone like me. Someone who ran, someone who wasn’t there when she needed him.
Her words hit harder than I want to admit. But I don’t flinch. I can’t. I have to stay steady. I force the pen down onto the paper, signing my name with a decisive stroke, but the movement feels mechanical. Like I’m not really there. Like I’m signing away a piece of myself, even though I don’t know what that means.
“I’m not here to take this from you,” I say quietly, lifting my head to meet her gaze again. “I’m not here to fight you.”
Mia’s mouth twists into something cold, something I haven’t seen before. “Really?” she says, and there’s a sharpness to her voice that makes my chest tighten. “Because it sure feels like you’re here to take everything from me.”
I feel the sting of her words like a slap. I want to argue, to tell her that I’m here because Collins asked me to be, because I have a duty to honor the man who was like a father to me. But it’s not that simple, is it? It never is. And the more I stand here, the more I realize just how much I’ve missed—how much I’ve failed to see in Mia. She’s not just the little sister anymore, the girl I used to joke with and barely notice. She’s a woman now, fierce and determined, and she’s fighting for something that means everything to her. Something I didn’t understand before.
The weight of the will in my hand suddenly feels heavier, like it’s pulling me under. I thought this would be a simple task. A way to honor Collins, tie up loose ends. But nothing about this is simple. Not when Mia’s standing there, her eyes burning with an emotion I can’t quite place.
