"Good." She kicks her feet against the stool legs, and I know that look. That's her I'm about to stir the pot look. "So. Any development on the Cal front?"
"I don't have a Callahan front," I say lightly. There's nothing going on.
"He called the shop yesterday." Erin's voice is too casual, meaning she's been waiting for the right moment to drop it. "Asked me what time Lily works in the morning so he could pick up his flowers when she's not here."
I go still. "He did what?"
"Called ahead. To make sure you wouldn't be behind the counter." She snips a stem, like this is nothing, like she hasn't just detonated a small bomb.
"He's been picking up his weekly bouquet for years without calling first. Now suddenly he needs a schedule."
I try not to let my face show anything, but my stomach won't stop turning and I'm suddenly very interested in the scissors in my hand.
"So he's avoiding me."
"Oh, honey." Poppy shakes her head, sympathy in her eyes but underneath it, a knowing edge. "That is not what avoiding looks like."
"He literally called to find out when I'm not here, Poppy."
"Right. Because he can't function when you are."
She hops off the stool, pulls me closer by the wrist, andmakes me face her. I don't want to face her. I want to go back to three minutes ago when I didn't know any of this and I could still breathe normally.
”A man who doesn't care just comes and goes. He doesn't think about it. He doesn't rearrange his whole week around it." She squeezes my hand, her grip warm and certain. "Honey, Cal is trying to survive you. That's what this is.”
I find Erin's face across the shop because I need a second opinion, need someone to tell me Poppy's being dramatic, but Erin just shrugs one shoulder like this is obvious, like I'm the last person to figure it out.
"She's not wrong. He came in last week when you were here and he couldn't even tell me what color flowers he wanted. He just stood there and said 'the ones that are good.' He's been buying arrangements here forever, Lily. He knows exactly what he wants. He just couldn't think straight with you in the room."
"You are too much for him." Poppy grins, pleased with it all, and shoves me back toward my station like the matter is settled. "So he's creating distance because the alternative is standing in this shop making an idiot of himself every Thursday."
I turn the idea over in my mind, test it for weak spots. Could they be right?
"Well." I pick up my scissors again, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "It's not my fault that man is sex on legs."
The silence that follows is deafening. I glance up to find them both staring at me, eyes wide, mouths slightly open, like I've just confessed to a felony.
"What is it?"
"Sex on legs?" Poppy repeats.
”Have you looked at him?" I don't know why I'm defending this. I should stop talking.
"He's enormous, with an unfairly gorgeous face. And so fucking hot and gentle and he blushes from the neck up when you make eye contact. That's a deadly combination. That's not my fault."
Erin tilts her head, pressing her lips together like she's considering this very seriously, which she is absolutely not.
"I mean, Cal is attractive, sure, but I wouldn't say…"
"Oh, don't even." I point a finger at her, and I know I'm digging my own grave here but I can't stop. "You do not get to play the reasonable one. You drool over my brother every time he walks into a room. I've seen you lose your train of thought mid-sentence because he rolled up his sleeves. Sleeves, Erin. Fabric moving up his arms. That's all it takes."
A flush creeps up her neck, which means I've hit a nerve.
"I do not drool."
"You absolutely drool. You drool and it's disgusting and I have to witness it with my own eyes every time he stops by the shop."
A dangerous glint enters her eyes. She turns to face me fully, leaning against the counter, and I realize too late that I have made a terrible strategic error. She's got that look. The one that says she's about to make me regret every word I've ever spoken.
