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1
SCARLETT
“Trust me, I’m an expert at these kinds of things.”
There was such confidence in my words, yet three steps toward my front door, I tripped over the loose cobblestone I’d been meaning to get fixed for years and fell to my knees with a squawk.
Luckily, the alcohol dulled the pain and I burst out laughing, as did my best friend, Lily, on the other side of the phone call.
“Oh my god, Scarlet. What the hell was the noise you just made?!”
“I fell,” I laughed, bracing one hand on the cold stone.
“You had too much to drink, my dear.”
“Uhm actually, I think you’ll find that when your Best Friend wins the town competition, it’s law that I drink this much in celebration.”
“Fuck, I can’t believe it! Lily’s Blooms are going to decorate the town this year. Who could have seen it!”
“Me? Your bestest friend in the whole wide world?” I climbed slowly to my feet, shaking off the initial impact shock, and then continued toward my front door. “I’m just glad Agnes didn’t win. We don’t need another year of Lavender everywhere. What the hell does Lavender have to do with Valentine’s Day anyway?”
“I have no clue,” Lily snorted.
“You’re the florist, you should know!”
“I’m drunk, Scarlett. I don’t know anything!”
Laughing with Lily was easy. We’d been friends since kindergarten, and while most people our age grew up and moved out of town onto bigger and better things, we stayed, and our friendship only grew stronger because of it.
“Alright, I’m home.” Fumbling in my bag for my keys, I leaned against my blue-painted front door and groaned. “And so ready for bed”
“It’s only 8 o’clock!” Lily exclaimed.
“And we’ve been celebrating since 3. I love you, Lily. Congratulations and goodnight.”
“Love you too!”
As the call ended and the silence of the evening air draped around me like a chilled cloak, my keys refused to enter the lock. No matter how hard I tried, the lock shifted out of reach every time I got close to the hole. It took longer than I would ever admit to finally slide that key home, and I stepped into my home with a satisfied sigh.
Lily had worked her ass off for that competition. Every year, my hometown held a competition to choose who would supply the flowers for the Valentine’s Day festival. With multiple florists, it was the fairest way to choose without resorting to whoever could make the largest donation. They’d tried that for a few years when I was younger, and it had not gone well.
Now it was down to a town vote, and my best friend had won this year.
Life was good.
Trudging inside, I reached for the hall light but instead of flooding my home with warm light, the bulb flickered and died.
“Great.”
Tossing my keys into the homemade clay bowl by the door, I resorted to using the light on my phone to guide my way through the hallway – the busted bulb could wait until I’d had a long sleep and a hot shower – but as I took a few steps down the hall, my ankle caught on some rough fabric.
I glanced down to see my boyfriend’s jeans draped at the bottom of the stairs.
Typical.
I didn’t ask for much. Our relationship might not be the best, given Shane’s current unemployment streak or his inability to hold a conversation for longer than two minutes before it turned into an argument, but the least he could do was clean up after himself.
He knew I like a tidy house.
