This was just a meeting. Just wedding planning. Just me, Trace, Delaney, and Dex discussing flower arrangements like normal adults.
Except nothing about Dex and me was normal anymore.
And while Delaney might know, Trace was still in the dark. I was starting to see the flaw in our logic in keeping this secret. Because it was a secret. Or at least not to anyone but the people I’d come here to try and build a relationship with. Maybe we were dealing with this badly. Maybe weshouldtell them. But Dex and I wanted to be cautious and surely we were entitled to some privacy while we figured things out. I might be here to get to know all the Farringtons but that didn’t mean I owed them complete access to every part of my life.
How had this become such a mess and yet possibly the best thing that had ever happened to me?
It had been two days since Sunday at Dex’s house. Two days since I’d fallen asleep in his arms and woken up with him watching me like I was something precious. Two days since we’d had that conversation about his mom and fears and the way we both stayed on the outside of things.
Two days since I’d started to suspect I was in way over my head.
I’d texted him last night, just goodnight, nothing serious, and he’d called instead. We’d talked for two hours about nothing and everything, and when I finally hung up my face hurt from smiling.
This was supposed to be casual. Temporary. Just for the summer.
But it didn’t feel casual anymore.
I got out of the car, grabbed my camera bag, and tried to look like I didn’t have something to hide. Normal. Like I wasn’t about to spend the next hour trying not to stare at the man I’d spent the weekend in bed with.
The bell chimed as I pushed open the door, and I was immediately hit with the sweet, earthy smell of fresh flowers.
“Leigh!” A woman emerged from the back, wiping her hands on an apron. She looked to be in her thirties, with dirt under her fingernails despite wearing a nice blouse, and a smile that was genuinely warm. “You must be Leigh! I’m Emma. Come in, come in!”
Before I could respond, she pulled me into a hug like we were old friends.
“Delaney’s told me so much about you,” Emma continued, ushering me further into the shop. “We’re so glad to have you as part of the family. And your photography work is beautiful. I looked at your website. That shot of the lighthouse at sunset? Stunning.”
“Thank you,” I managed, charmed despite my nerves. “You looked at my website?”
“Of course! When Delaney said her photographer sister-in-law was covering the wedding, I had to see your work.” She led me toward the back of the shop where a large workbench was covered in sample arrangements. “They’re already here.”
My heart jumped.
And there they were, Trace standing next to Delaney, his hand on her back, both of them looking at flower samples. And Dex, leaning against the far counter with his hands in his pockets, wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and looking unfairly good for a Monday morning.
He glanced up when I entered, and for just a second, one perfect unguarded second, his whole face softened.
Then he caught himself, looked away, and I tried not to feel the loss of his gaze like a physical thing.
“Leigh!” Delaney pulled me into a hug. “Perfect timing. We were just looking at the wildflower arrangements.”
“They’re gorgeous.” I set my camera bag on a chair and pulled out my equipment. “I’ll get some shots of the samples so we can reference them later.”
“Perfect.” Trace smiled at me. That easy, paternal smile that still felt strange coming from my brother. My brother. Ugh it was getting easier to say but still felt weird. “Emma’s been incredible. She’s got all these ideas for the ceremony space.”
“Speaking of which,” Emma clapped her hands together. “Let’s talk through the full plan. I want to make sure I’m capturing your vision correctly.”
For the next forty-five minutes, we discussed flowers. Wildflower and rose combinations for the bridal bouquet. Eucalyptus and baby’s breath for the ceremony arch. Mason jars with simple arrangements for the reception tables.
I photographed everything. The color combinations, the textures, the way Emma arranged each sample. I tried to stay focused on composition and lighting and all the technical things that usually came so easily.
But I kept getting distracted.
By Dex standing on the other side of the table. By the way his voice sounded when he made a suggestion about the centerpieces. By the accidental brush of his arm against mine when we both reached for the same sample arrangement.
By the electricity that shot through me every single time.
And I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
