Page 31 of The Killer Card

Naomi

I’m not a huge fan of flowers, but if it gets me out of that cabin and away from Graham’s staring for a few hours then I guess I’m frolicking through these dirty fields in three-hundred-dollar Gucci boots.

Nelly got the idea from some social media account she’s followed almost religiously since Elias proposed. This influencer had made a day out of all of her bridesmaids getting together and going to a flower farm- yes, it’s a thing- and picking the flowers for their bouquets themselves. Those bridesmaids then get to take those flowers and craft their own bouquets.

That’s right. We get to spend hours in this wet, muddy field picking fucking flowers only to have to figure out how to put those flowers together into an acceptable bouquet that will then be transported to New York for the actual ceremony. And, yes, I have asked half a dozen times why they didn’t just hire a florist local to the church. They did. This is just for the bouquets.

At least Clara and Nelly seem to be having a good time. Their buckets are so full of colorful flowers I feel a little pathetic when I look at mine.

“Picking flowers not your thing?”

I look over at one of Elias’ sisters who will be joining us at the alter in only five days. The other couldn’t make it out to Vermont because of her kids’ summer school schedule but will be at the wedding when we head into New York.

“Not much for dirt and mud,” I correct, looking sadly at my ruined boots. “If she wasn’t so goddamn cute, I would murder her.”

We both watch Nelly squeal and run away laughing from a singular bumblebee. “She is a little spitfire.” The sister holds out her hand to me, long elegant fingers calloused by whatever she does for work. “I’m Ivelisse. I don’t think we were ever properly introduced back there.”

She gestures across the road to the little shop and I nod, taking her hand. “Naomi. Are you staying with us for the week?”

Snorting, she shakes her head. “No, I have to get back for work tomorrow night. Elias was kind enough to pay for my ride so I could come join you all today. Although, I have to admit,” she holds up her equally empty pail. “Flowers aren’t really my thing either.”

“Thank God,” I laugh, looping my arm through hers. “I hate being singled out.”

Ivelisse chuckles, letting me lead her through the same rows of flowers we’ve both traversed a dozen times already. Every now and then one of us will stop to shear a bud we didn’t notice before.

“How do you know Poppy?” She asks me, placing a daisy cutting in her bucket.

I count out the number of flowers I have of the different sizes and colors we were designated to use. “We’ve been best friends since middle school, all three of us. We’re basically sisters.”

“How sweet,” she smiles. “So, you must also know my nephew pretty well.”

“Unfortunately,” I grumble which makes her laugh. “We were never the best of friends. I only tolerate him for Nelly’s sake, and now I guess for Elias.”

Ivelisse smiles up at the sun as the Vermont breeze rustles through her pony-tail. She looks a lot like Elias, but you know, feminine. She has elegant curves beneath her sundress and a lovely natural tan. Her eyes are the same whiskey brown, and her hair is a dark brown to caramel blonde ombré. Her smile is just as bright as her brothers, with all of that Sanots charisma he’s capitalized on in his career.

“I’m so glad they’ve managed to patch things up. Ay, gracias a Dios” she tells me. “Elias loves that boy so fiercely, watching them drift apart was heartbreaking. Mama cried every time she asked Elias when they’d last spoken. The number just going up and up…” Ivelisse sighs. “But eso ya es passado, now they’re back on good terms, right?”

I nod, reflecting on a bed of lilacs in front of me. “As good as they can be given the circumstances,” I remind her.

She waves her hand as if it doesn’t matter at all that Elias is giving it to his son’s former girlfriend better than Cristian ever did. “Love is love, querida. Cristian is a good-looking boy, he will find someone new.”

“Sure.”

“And that little one,” Ivelisse nods toward Clara. “She’s married to my cousin, yes?” I nod, squatting to sheer a bud. “How are they doing?”

I snort. “They are disgustingly in love.” I rise to my feet. “To save you the trouble of being any nosier about your family’s relationships- everyone is horrifically and wretchedly in love with their wives and fiancées.”

She looks mildly perturbed that I stopped her probing and I inwardly cringe. Sometimes I forget to lock old, bitter Naomi in her cage and she just rages against whoever happens to be closest whether I enjoy their company or not. It’s a miracle I’ve kept the friends I have this long.

“What about you then?” Ivelisse asks.

My brow furrows, my eyes on the flowers at my feet. “What about me?”

“Is there someone wretchedly in love with you, as you put it?” I glance her way, finding her expression suspiciously innocent.

It seems rather declassee to reveal my entire life’s story to a woman I literally just met. How do I tell this woman that I pushed away the one man who is wretchedly in love with me every chance I got until one day he just didn’t come back? Is that something you just tell a stranger? I’ve been alone for so long now, just on my own- aside from Nathan lingering around- just getting through law school and forcing myself through every long fucking day—

“No,” I exhale. “No one for me.”