Page 13 of The Florist By Chance
The broom clatters against the counter as I grip it tighter, fighting the smile threatening at the corner of my mouth. This can’t keep happening. I can’t let him turn disaster into teamwork, or resentment into… whatever this is. Because if I do, I might start seeing Luke not as the intruder who left us behind, but as someone I could rely on.
And that thought terrifies me more than Bloom & Vine, Titan, or any crisis yet to come.
I slump against the counter once the last boutonniere is packed, my arms aching and fingers sore from wiring stems. For once, Luke doesn’t look like he’s waiting to pounce with another critique. He just leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching me like he’s trying to figure out what planet I came from.
The quiet stretches. I should be grateful—silence means we’re not bickering—but instead it feels like the shop itself is holding its breath.
And in that hush, my mind drifts somewhere I don’t want it to go. Back to when we were kids, and Luke practically lived in this place as much as I did.
I remember him sitting on the worn wooden stool in the back room, boots too big for his skinny legs, peeling labels off buckets while Mom showed me how to spiral roses in my hand. He’d act bored, leaning back like he was above it all, but then I’d catch him sneaking glances at her work, trying to copy the way she angled the stems.
Once, when I was ten, I caught him fumbling with a daisy, his fingers clumsy. I teased him until his ears went pink, and he threw the flower at me. Mom just laughed, called him a natural—even though his “arrangement” looked like it had been through a windstorm. That memory aches now, like a bruise pressed too hard. Back then, everything felt simple. Luke was just my best friend’s brother, hanging around, too cool for school but still roped into helping whenever Mom needed muscle. He was reliable even then, though he’d never admit it.
And now… nothing’s simple.
The scrape of his boot on the floor pulls me back. Luke clears his throat, like he knows I’ve been caught wandering downmemory lane. His eyes flick toward the finished boxes stacked neatly by the register.
“You did good,” he says. Just three words, flat and gruff, but they land heavier than I expect.
I busy myself with straightening ribbon spools, my cheeks warming. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
He huffs out a laugh, the sound low and unguarded. “Trust me, I’m not. You’ve always been… stubborn enough to figure it out.”
Always. The word lodges in my chest. He says it like he’s been keeping track all this time, even when I thought he was a million miles away.
Before I can respond, the bell above the door jingles. The air changes instantly, like a draft snuck in with the sound. I turn, already pasting on a polite smile—until I see who it is.
Ms. Eldridge.
Titan’s envoy, in all her crisp navy suit and patent heels glory, like she’s stepped off the cover of a corporate magazine. She doesn’t belong in a flower shop with dirt on the floor and leaves stuck in the entry rug, yet here she is, sweeping her gaze over everything with the faintest curl of satisfaction tugging at her mouth.
“Well,” she says, voice like glass—smooth, breakable if you’re not careful. “I happened to be in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by and see how things were… blooming.”
The pun makes my teeth clench. Luke shifts beside me, his shoulders squaring, but he doesn’t speak. Not yet.
Ms. Eldridge strolls closer to the display cooler, her sharp eyes skating over the buckets of peonies and roses like she’s conducting an inspection. “I hear Bloom & Vine has been quite… enterprising lately. Undercutting prices, scooping up weddings. Must be difficult to keep up.”
The words aren’t even veiled. They’re daggers wrapped in silk.
I force my hands to stay steady on the counter, even as my stomach twists. “We’re managing just fine.”
Her gaze flicks to the neatly packed wedding boxes, then back to me. The smile that spreads across her face is smug enough to make me want to throw a daisy at her, just like Luke did years ago.
“Are you?” she asks softly. “Because Titan is very interested in businesses that… falter under pressure. You understand.”
Luke steps forward then, close enough that his arm brushes mine, his voice steady as a stone wall. “Collins Florals isn’t faltering. We’ll deliver. On time. At quality you won’t find anywhere else.”
The conviction in his tone makes my chest tighten. I hate that I need it, that his steadiness feels like a lifeline I don’t want to grab.
Ms. Eldridge just tilts her head, her smile never slipping. “We’ll see.”
And with that, she turns, the click of her heels echoing off the linoleum, sharp and final. The bell jingles again as the door swings shut again leaving the faint scent of her perfume.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Luke stays where he is, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the door as if he could keep her from ever walking back in.
But she will.
And we both know it.
