Page 24 of The Florist By Chance
Mia’s perched on the edge of the workbench, arms folded, pretending to be calm, but her knee bounces like it’s trying to drill through the floor.
“We should at least consider it,” she says, the words clipped, like they cost her something to say.
I shake my head before she even finishes. “Not happening.”
Her eyes narrow, sparks snapping between us. “So that’s it? You just decide for both of us?”
I move closer, tapping the contract with my finger hard enough to leave a smudge. “It’s not a decision. It’s common sense. Titan doesn’t invest in people—they devour them. You sign this, you won’t own your shop anymore. You’ll be their puppet.”
Her lips twitch, sharp and mocking. “Funny. That’s exactly how it feels when you waltz in here telling me what I can and can’t do.”
The jab lands deeper than she knows. Or maybe she does know—Mia’s always had a way of hitting the nerve that already aches. My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “I’m not Titan. I’m trying to protect what your mom built. What you built.”
Her arms fold tighter, like she’s bracing against me. “Or are you just trying to prove you’re the hero this time? That you can swoop in and fix everything you left broken?”
The air goes brittle. My pulse stutters. I glance down at the contract, pretending to read words I already know, just to avoid the way her eyes pin me in place.
She’s not wrong.
Every choice I make in this shop is shadowed by the night I chose to walk away years ago. Leaving Collins Flowers when she needed me most—it still burns. And I can’t tell if my stubbornness now is about protecting the business… or about scrubbing clean the guilt I can’t seem to shake.
“I’m not doing this for me,” I say finally, voice rough. “I’m doing this because Titan doesn’t get to win. Not here. Not with us.”
Her voice lowers, quieter than before. “You make it sound simple. Like we could just stand against Titan and win. But what if I can’t, Luke? What if I mess this up? What if I lose everything my mom left me?”
The words land in me heavier than any accusation could. I take a step closer, careful not to spook her, careful not to press too hard. “You won’t lose it. Not while I’m here.”
She searches my face, like she’s weighing whether to trust me. The storm outside rattles the glass, but in here the only sound is her unsteady breath.
And I want to tell her everything—the real reason I left, the weight I still carry, the truth about why being back here feels like finally exhaling. But all I can manage is, “You matter, Mia. Everydecision, every choice—it’s yours. I’m just here to fight alongside you.”
Her lips part, like she’s surprised by the gentleness instead of the bite she expected. The air between us shifts, not sharp this time but fragile, a thread tugging us closer.
The next morning, the shop feels like it’s breathing again. The rain’s finally let up, though the sidewalks outside are still slick, shining in the early light. Mia’s at the counter with Zoe, arranging fresh buckets of roses as if nothing can topple her, not storms, not fatigue. She’s a force—messy bun skewed sideways, sleeves rolled up, determination radiating off her.
And for the first time since I came back, it doesn’t feel like I’m trespassing here. It feels like I belong.
The bell above the door chimes and Grace bustles in, cheeks pink from the cold. She waves her phone like it’s a sword. “Have you two seen this?”
Mia wipes her hands on her apron. “Seen what?”
Grace drops her phone onto the counter. A bold headline flashes across the screen:Titan Floral to Launch New Flagship in Downtown Greenhaven. Grand Opening This Fall.
My stomach drops.
Mia leans closer, scanning the article, her face draining of color. “They’re opening it here? In our backyard?”
Grace nods grimly. “It’s not just any store. They’re calling it a ‘destination floral market.’ Gourmet coffee, event rentals, workshops—like a community hub. They’ll pull every customer within twenty miles.”
Mia’s hand grips the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles pale. I step in before the silence stretches too long. “Let them build their flashy hub. This town doesn’t want a chain. They want you.”
Her eyes flick to mine, searching, doubtful. “Do they? Or do they just want whoever has the best deals and the prettiest windows?”
I swallow hard. She has a point. Titan doesn’t just compete—they crush. “We’ll fight smarter. Play to our strengths.”
Grace crosses her arms, protective, like she wants to shield Mia from the weight. “Strengths don’t mean much if Titan undercuts every price and offers free lattes with bouquets.”
The shop suddenly feels smaller, like the walls are pressing in. But I catch the way Mia bites her lip, a familiar tell from when she was younger and trying not to cry over scraped knees. She won’t admit it, but she’s terrified. And I hate that she feels like she has to carry it all alone.
