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“Gonna ask Megan for her number.” I jerk my thumb in their direction.
“Oh no you don’t.” Marley grips my forearm in her tiny hands. “They are currently canoodling behind that wall, and then I’m going to steal them away to take their sunset portraits. I promise I’ll talk to Megan about it, but you will not press her about this, nor will you ask her until later tomorrow. It’s her wedding day, she doesn’t need to be worrying about giving you her florist’s number.”
I pause, knowing she’s right. “Ugh, fine. You’re right. It’s their day. I’ll talk to her about it later this week.”
“Good,” says Marley. “Now, get your ass inside, and take that gloomy look off your face, it’s not attractive.”
“Marley, did you say I’m attractive?” I throw a hand up to my chest, gasping in mock surprise.
“You are going to drive me batty, Andrew.”
I walk backwards, pointing to her as I do. “Yeah, but you love me. I can’t do your photoshoot anymore. I want to see what happens with Josie.”
Marley waves me off, not saying anything further before I turn and head into the building.
I shake off my last bit of disappointment that she’s no longer here, and head toward the bar, getting myself a can of beer. It’s going to be a good night, and I’m going to be present and bring the energy for Isaac and Megan. Tomorrow I can start making a game plan on how I’m going to find, and get to know Josie.
7
ANDREW
It’s been almost two weeks since the wedding, and I’m no closer to finding Josie than I was that night. Megan won’t give me her phone number, claiming something about a confidentiality clause, but I almost don’t believe her. She’s never been a good liar.
The only thing I have to remember her by is the alligator clip -or whatever it’s called- of hers. The day after the wedding when we were all cleaning up, I found it in the room where we put her stuff when I helped her unload. She must have taken it out of her hair at some point and forgotten it there. Call me a romantic, call me a weirdo, but I have the clip sitting on my dresser, waiting for the moment I can give it back to her.
In between commission drop offs, client meetings, and actual work, I’ve been walking around town, looking at bulletin boards, scouring the paper for ads, trying to find her floral company. I’ve asked around, trying to find someone, anyone, who might know anything about the new florist in town. I don’t remember her saying the name of her business. Shows how much I pay attention. I assume it has her name in it, and I’m having no luck at all finding anything.
Marley has been practically begging me to do her stranger shoot, as she calls it, but I’m still hesitant. I really want to find Josie, but with each day that passes, I’m losing hope.
I was cocky at first. Thinking to myself, we live in a tiny ass town, how hard can it be? Well, apparently a lot harder than I would have thought. I even logged back in to my Instagram account that I haven’t used in years, trying to find her. I searched like forty different versions of her name, with the words flower, florist, florals, after it, and nothing.
It did, however, remind me that maybe I should be better about posting my own work on social media. Gramps hates all things technology, but I want my- our- work to get out there for everyone to see. I just have no idea how to do it.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket as I continue sanding the dining table I’m currently working on for a family out of town. The client is an older lady, but apparently has a huge family with like six or seven kids, who are all starting to have their own children. She was super sweet, telling me all their names and their jobs, and how only two of her kids are biologically hers. When I asked if she adopted, she laughed, saying that just because they weren’t her kids, legally or biologically, they were still hers, still family. I thought that was pretty sweet.
I finish the round of sanding before pulling my phone from my pocket. Marley’s name is the first thing I see when I slide open the screen.
Marley
Hey. I know you really don’t want to, but can you at least fill out the forms for the photo shoot? I got an application from a girl I think you would hit it off with.
ME
I’ll think about it.
You’ve been thinking about it for two weeks. Are you really so hung up on a girl that you spent an hour with? Is this some sort of Cinderella situation? Are you going to carry your boutonniere around and ask every person you meet if they know who created it?
No, but that’s not a half bad idea. Maybe I should. Could go along with the hair clip of hers I found.
That was a joke.
But it gave me an idea.
Did you keep the boutonniere? Pretty sure most guys just chuck them. And wait. You have her hair clip?
Would it be weird for me to say that I kept the flower?
Yes? But also no? It’s kinda sweet.
