A pause. Then:
Levi:Is this a metaphor or an actual request?
Despite the twinge in my heart, I smile. Small, but real.
Me:Actual request for a funeral arrangement. It needs to be…special.
His reply comes quickly, filling my heart with something close to hope.
Levi:Anything you need. I’ve got you.
16
Levi
“If we don’tleave in the next five minutes, I’m dragging you out.”
Naomi’s voice carries from the front of the shop, precise and professional, but there’s an edge of impatience tucked neatly under her polished tone.
I glance at the clock, my heart racing slightly.Shit.
For the past twelve hours, I’ve been holed up here, surrounded by flowers and scraps of ribbon, lost in a haze of stems. The arrangements for this funeral service aren’t just flowers to me. They’re art, crafted in every shade of white. Ivory roses, creamy dahlias, snowy ranunculus, and the faintest blush of peonies for texture. A quiet kind of elegance, sharp in its simplicity. I typically envision more color, but the minute the ask came from Hayden, I knew this was it.
Stark but timeless. Hayden as a color palette.
“Almost done,” I call back, adjusting the placement of a temperamental straggler, letting it rest slightly off-center. A whisper of life inside grief. Beauty isn’t a distraction here, it’s a rung to lean on while the ground shifts.
I don’t look up right away when the front door opens, still elbow deep in a tangle of white dahlias and fretting over a stubbornspray of ivy that refuses to drape the way I’d intended. Only when I hear a low whistle do I lift my head.
Ezra leans casually against the counter, all charm and worn denim, a to-go cup in one hand and a small bakery box in the other.
“Did I get my days mixed up again?” I ask, reaching for a towel to wipe my hands. Ezra’s deliveries have always come like clockwork, but I’m known for completely spacing.
He shakes his head. “No, no. This is an impromptu visit.” He lifts the box slightly. “I had a delivery downtown and thought I’d make a pit stop by Mrs. Hensley’s. She had lemon bars today, and I remembered you used to hoard them like some pastry goblin.”
“You remembered that?”
Ezra grins, ears reddening slightly. “You ate four in one sitting and blamed it on low blood sugar. I’m not likely to forgetthat.”
I take the box from him. “Thanks.”
He nods toward the half-finished arrangement. “This for the Caldwell service?”
“Yeah. I’m going for something simple and timeless and trying not to overthink it, but…” I gesture to the tangle of ivy.
Ezra leans down to study the arrangement from another angle. “It’s beautiful,” he says, and I know he means it.
We stand there for a beat, surrounded by the buzz of heaters and a room full of blooms. Then he clears his throat. “No pressure, but…if you ever wanna grab a drink or catch up or, you know, not talk and just…hang out…I’m around.”
Before, I’d have said yes without thinking. But now? Now it feels out of sync. Like a tune I used to sing but can’t quite remember the lyrics to.
I exhale, my fingers tightening slightly around a stem. “You’ve always been kind to me, Ezra. Really.”
His smile twitches, like he knows what’s coming.
“But I’m…” I start, rubbing the back of my neck. I’m not entirely sure how to label what it is I’ve started with Hayden. “I’m actually seeing someone. It’s new. But it feels…different.”
Ezra’s gaze lingers on mine for a heartbeat. “The funeral director?”
