“I’ve got it covered,” I assure him, though nerves have taken residence in my belly at the thought of being out there, so close to Declan. “Sorry I’ve been MIA today.”
“It’s alright,” he says softly. His brow furrows, and I get the sense he wants to say more, but the bell above the shop door dings. “I’ll just –”
“Go,” I tell him, rising from my chair. “I’ve got it covered.”
“You’re the best,” he says. Though I’m far from it – especially today – I don’t bother to correct him.
I follow Noah out of my office, through the break room and out onto the shop floor, where a woman stands on the far side of the room, examining our display of indoor house plants. “I’ll be right back,” Noah assures me, then hurries out the front door. At the sound of the bell dinging, the woman turns – and my stomach drops.
“Hello, Elsie,” the woman who was almost my mother-in-law greets me. “Beautiful shop you’ve got here.”
“Mrs. Lewis,” I choke out. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Erica,” she corrects me. I’d started calling her Erica instead of Mrs. Lewis about two years into my relationship with Nathan, when we started college and the concept of adulthood didn’t feel quite so out of reach anymore. Now, though, it feels too informal. Too casual after everything that happened.
“Erica,” I amend. “What can I help you with?”
She walks over to where I’m standing frozen in the middle of the room and smiles. “I complimented the gorgeous flowers at the wedding and Gail told me this is where I could find them. I should have known.”
The inn where Olivia and Cam held their wedding has been in the Lewis family for generations, and Olivia had been dreaming of getting married there since she was a little girl. While many little girls enjoy daydreaming about their wedding someday – what kind of dress they’ll wear, who their bridesmaids will be, what color scheme they’ll use – Olivia took the taskveryseriously. She still has all of the plans she wrote as a kid, and though some important details have changed (she no longer loves fuchsia, thank god, and Taylor Lautner lost his role as the groom to Cam), one major thing remained constant: she wanted to get married at The Wisteria Inn.
Soon after Olivia and Cam got engaged, she took me out to lunch to get my thoughts on her wedding being held at The Wisteria. I assured her I didn’t mind – and then assured her another six hundred times throughout the course of wedding planning.
And it ended up being fine. I know that Erica must have been flitting around somewhere throughout preparations and the reception, but I never saw her, and truthfully, on the day of the wedding, I’d forgotten about Nathan’s family connection to the place. I’d had other, more pressing things on my mind that night.
Like doom spiraling about the state of my almost-relationship.
“Are you in need of flowers for an event?” I ask, hoping I sound neutral and not like someone who’s actively trying to control their breathing. I’ve run into Nathan’s parents and younger sister a handful of times over the years – it’s unavoidable in a town this size – but we’ve never said more than a quick hello, sometimes exchanging brief pleasantries before going on our way. I don’t know how to have a normal conversation with the woman who, for atleast a few years, I’d expected to become a permanent fixture in my life.
“Not at the moment, no.” Erica rifles around in her purse and pulls out an envelope. “I was thinking I’d like to have fresh flowers for each of the rooms before guests check in. It’s something I’ve thought about over the years but didn’t want to travel for each time someone new arrived.”
“That’s a great idea.”
She hands me the envelope. “I’ve taken photos of each of our guest rooms. We have twelve rooms. Each room is decorated differently, though there are four main themes. I was thinking I could call you when we have a room due for new flowers, and if you know which room it is, you can fit the flowers into the room’s theme.”
I open the envelope and take out the stack of photos, flipping through them quickly. I recognize the room I stayed in after the wedding, with the light, gauzy curtains and blue walls that reminded me of the horizon over the ocean on a sunny, summer day.
“I love that idea,” I tell Erica. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Excellent,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Do you deliver? I’m sure we could find someone to send over here if needed, but a delivery a couple hours before guests are expected would really be ideal.”
“Absolutely.” I don’t tell her that Noah and I just started doing deliveries over the last month, and it’s been hectic, to put it mildly. I really need to hire at least one more person, someone who can handle the deliveries when we have them and help out around the shop during their down time.
“Wonderful.” Erica smiles at me again, and her features soften as her eyes flit across my face. “I know it’s not really my place to say that I’m proud of you, Elsie, but I am. You’ve built somethingbeautiful here and provided a much-needed service to the town. It’s inspiring.”
I have to clear my throat to dislodge the lump that’s taken up residence before speaking. “Thank you, Erica. I really appreciate that.”
Nathan’s parents were never the warm and fuzzy type, but they’re good people who worked hard to provide for (i.e. spoil) their children, and I’d always gotten along with them well enough. This might be the closest Erica and I have ever come to a heart-to-heart, though. I probably won’t get another chance like this.
“Hey, Mrs. Lewis – I mean, Erica – I never really got the chance to tell you how sorry I am for… well…” I trail off, unsure how to continue.Breaking your son’s heart? Derailing the plans that you loved to dream about with us? Turning around and scurrying the other way at least half of the times I’ve seen you around town?
“Oh, you have nothing to be sorry about, dear.” She shakes her head and reaches out like she wants to grab my hand, then thinks better of it and lets her arm fall back down to her side. “Things didn’t work out between you and Nathan, and that’s okay. If I’d been paying more attention, I would have realized your paths were bound to diverge eventually. Nathan never did want to stick around Port Myles.”
“And I never wanted to leave,” I say softly.
“I’d say things have worked out the way they were meant to,” Erica says, gesturing around the shop. Her gaze fixes on something over my shoulder and a smile plays at her lips. “In more ways than one,” she adds.
My body is operating two steps ahead of my brain and I turn to follow her line of sight before I can process why that’s a bad idea. I suck in a sharp breath when I see Declan hunched over the arm of someone I vaguely recognize from the fishing pier.
