Page 14 of The Florist By Chance
Chapter Seven
The bell above the door jingles, and I glance up from the register to see Zoe—bright-eyed, college-age, clutching a tote bag that probably weighs more than she does. She beams like she’s already part of the team.
“Hi!” she says, breathless. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was awful.”
Mia, arranging carnations near the window, freezes. “Late?”
“Yeah,” Zoe says, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. “For my first shift. Luke said to come in at ten?”
The pruning shears snap shut in Mia’s hand. Slowly, she swivels toward me. “Luke said what?”
The look she gives me could peel paint. I rub the back of my neck. “I hired her.”
“You what?” The words are flat, low, the calm-before-the-storm kind of tone. Customers browsing the tulips two feet away are already starting to linger like they smell drama brewing.
“We need help,” I say, gesturing at the overflowing buckets of flowers crowding the aisle. “We can’t keep doing this ourselves. Zoe’s local, she knows her way around retail, and she starts today. Simple.”
Mia sets the shears down with surgical precision. “Simple,” she repeats, like the word tastes bitter. Then she turns to Zoe with a smile so tight it looks painful. “Zoe, right?”
Zoe nods.
“Perfect. Why don’t you wait just outside for a minute while Luke and I talk?”
Zoe blinks, caught between the sharp edge of Mia’s voice and the weight of her smile. “Oh, uh—sure.” She hurries back out the door, the bell jingling again.
The second it shuts, Mia rounds on me. “Are you kidding me? You hired someone without asking? Without even mentioning it?”
I fold my arms, keeping my voice even. “Because if I did, you’d say no. And meanwhile, we’re drowning.”
“That’s not your decision to make,” she fires back, stepping closer. “This is my shop. My mother’s legacy. And you think you get to bring in a stranger to—what—fix things I can’t handle?”
Her words hit harder than I expect. I grit my teeth, searching for control. “No. To help. There’s a difference.”
She throws up her hands. “You can’t just swoop in and take over like you know what’s best. That’s not how this works.”
I lean against the counter, jaw tight. “Then how does it work, Mia? Because so far, your way is you running yourself into the ground while Titan circles like a vulture. We need extra hands. Period.”
For a beat, the shop is quiet except for the hum of the cooler. She stares at me, her chest rising and falling, frustration written in every line of her body. Then, softer but sharper: “Every time you make a call like this, you chip away at what little control I have left. Do you get that?”
I open my mouth, then shut it again. The truth is—I don’t want her to feel like she’s losing control. I just want us to stand a chance.
Through the glass, I see Zoe fidgeting on the sidewalk, clearly wondering what kind of war she just walked into.
Mia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s already here. I’m not sending her away. But Luke—” Her eyes cut into me. “This doesn’t happen again. We talk first. Always.”
I nod stiffly, swallowing the retort I want to make. Because for once, maybe she’s right.
But as she opens the door and waves Zoe back inside, all smiles again, I can’t shake the nagging thought: if I hadn’t pulled the trigger, we’d still be stuck, running ourselves ragged.
And I’m not sure if Mia will ever see that as anything but betrayal.
Zoe slips back inside, hovering by the counter like she’s not sure whether to grab an apron or duck for cover. Mia gives her the kind of reassuring smile that makes people believe in miracles. “Thanks for waiting. Why don’t you start by wiping down the display cases? The rags are under the sink.”
“Got it!” Zoe says, a little too cheerfully, and scurries off.
The moment she’s out of earshot, Mia drops the smile and pins me with a glare. “Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?”
I lift a brow. “Humiliating?”
