“I second that,” Olivia says, sitting up now but still clutching my hand. “We’re so lucky to be by your side while you follow your dreams.”
“Hey, there she is!” a male voice calls, interrupting our sappy moment. We all turn toward the voice and watch as a couple walking hand-in-hand approaches, stopping in front of our picnic blanket. “Port Myles’ newest business owner.”
“Hi, DJ. Hi, Mandy.” I give a little wave and Mandy waves back with her free hand, smiling as she snaps her gum.
“There’s my favorite couple,” Grace says. Anyone else in town would have been laying on the sarcasmthickwith that statement, but not Grace.
DJ and Mandy have been an on-and-off couple for the last few years, and somehow, they always manage to make their business everybody else’s business. It’s not unusual to see them holding hands in the morning and then see one of them making out with somebody else at the bar that same night. Too many times to count I’ve witnessed them yelling at each other on the street over something minor – the way DJ looked at another woman in front of Mandy, the flirty voice Mandy used with their server at dinner – only to clash together in an angry makeout session that seemed to be their end goal all along. They put thefunin dysfunctional, and toxicity seems to be their love language.
Grace loves them.
“Aw, shucks,” DJ chuckles. “You guys are great, too.”
I notice the side eye Mandy gives him and feel Grace’s elbow dig into my ribs. Calling three womengreatin front of his girlfriend? Rookie mistake.
To my surprise, Mandy brushes off the comment and turns back to us. “I can’t believe you bought that old dance studio. I used to take lessons there for, like, ten years.”
“Leased it,” I correct. Mandy stares at me blankly, still snapping her gum. “You should stop by and see it when we open,” I redirect. “You’ll hardly believe it’s the same place.”
“I totally will,” she nods. “I used to spend hours there just tapping away while my mom watched through that big window. I used to get in trouble for making goofy faces at her and making all the other kids laugh.”
“I’m gonna be checking out the other shop,” DJ says with a grin. He pulls up his T-shirt sleeve and flexes a freckled bicep. “Got a spot all ready to be inked with Mandy’s name.”
“Do you, uh, think that’s a great idea?” Olivia asks tentatively.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Mandy snaps, eyes narrowing on Olivia.
“Ignore her,” Grace assures her. “Our tatted queen just likes to make sure people are confident in their tattoo decisions.”
“Tatted queen,” Olivia mutters. I bite my lips to hide my smile. She really won’t live that one down.
“I’ll come check out the flowers while thelove of my life,” she shoots another glare Olivia’s way, “gets his tattoo. Then I can pretend to be surprised when it’s done.”
“Sounds perfect,” Grace tells her, and she probably means it.
“Too bad the window won’t be there,” DJ says. “You could play with your flowers while you watch me get tatted.”
My spine stiffens, but I brush the comment off. He’s not the first person to not take the art of floristry seriously and he certainly won’t be the last. Grace, noticing the way my body tenses, presses tighter against my side.
“Well, it’s been fun, you two.” She waves, effectively dismissing DJ and Mandy. “We’ll see you both on opening day.”
“Later,” DJ says, throwing up a peace sign. Mandy waggles her fingers in a wave and drags DJ toward the wooden stairs that lead back up to Main Street.
“I cannot wait to see that tattoo,” Grace says wistfully, watching them go.
CHAPTER 10
Elsie
I look up at the big, redbrick building, my belly swarming with bees. When I turn the knob on the glass door in front of me – one of two entrances to the flower shop, just like Olivia suggested – I’ll get to see my shop nearly complete for the first time.
I’ve popped in and out a handful of times over the last few weeks, but the last time I was here, the tile floor was only half done, the countertops still needed to be installed, and the wall between the two shops hadn’t been touched. It was close, but not there yet.
Now it’s finally time to see the last two months of hard work in all their glory.
I take a few seconds to admire my shop from the outside. The white trim around the door and windows. The pale pink, glass-paned door with the shop name, The Floral Chic, in white letters on the window. The pink and white striped awning over the doorway. The only thing missing is the flowers that will fill the space inside the windows, colorful blooms of peonies and lilies and roses.
Those bees start swarming again.
