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Emilia giggled, and I knew I had her. Whether she wanted to be had or not, I saw her eyes twinkle and I knew she was on my side.
I just had to get Grace on my side.
“Fine. A four-hundred-dollar tip for the woman with the address you want,” she said.
“No. A tip for the woman who arranged a beautiful set of flowers and could use a bit of spoiling herself.”
“Relentless and a bit of a romantic. No wonder Grace fell for you.”
My eyebrows ticked up and the woman closed her eyes.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“She’s going to be so pissed.”
“Please,” I said. “Where is Grace?”
The woman finished charging my card as I scooped the roses up into my arms.
“Go up to the light and take a left. Take the third street to your right. The apartment complex is immediately on your right and she’s in apartment 9602.”
“Thank you,” I said as I turned my back. “I swear to you, Grace won’t regret it.”
“She better not. Otherwise I know where you live!”
I slammed out of the floral shop and got back into Zander’s car. I directed him using the information Emilia gave me, then I told him to drop me off. If things didn’t go well, then I’d get an Uber to get myself home.
I watched as Zander drove off, then I turned and started up for her apartment.
It looked like a decent-sized place, but I knew she was sharing it with someone. I had been listening to those phone conversations the day before she’d left. Listening to her voice was comforting, even if the subject matter was gut-wrenching. I was glad she had people in her life who could help her out, especially since things between us had ended so emotionally and abruptly.
But the situation was out of my hands. All I had were the dozen roses, my explanation, and the hope that Grace would sit and listen.
So I drew in a deep breath, raised my fist, and knocked on the door.
Chapter Twenty
Grace
Ivy was a decent roommate. She was a fashion choreographer who helped out with the world’s most incredible runway shows. She worked with some of the most high-profile designers, some of the most beautiful models, and always came home with clothes that seemed tailored to fit her slim form. She was bubbly and bright, and always had a bottle of wine she never could finish by herself. I enjoyed listening to her stories at night over a glass of rose or red wine, and little by little I started settling into the rhythm of my new life.
Emilia was trying to do everything in her power to make sure I stayed at the shop this time. Starting with giving me a salary and two days off a week. I chose Sunday and Monday so I would only be off one day the shop was actually open, then I rearranged the entire workspace in the back to better suit the growing of the flowers. The salary wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to live off of from week to week. I stuffed the money Hayden had paid me for my work into multiple investment accounts, then let them ride.
Maybe if I was lucky, I could retire early and travel or something.
I was glad to be back at the shop. In some ways, I had missed it. The smell in the morning. The monotonous cultivation. Researching new methods to grow flowers and using different methods to tie-dye white roses and tulips. The wedding orders were flying in and Emilia was right. The need for azaleas was high this year. The entire back half of the green room was dedicated to growing those things, and I still had to call out to other shops and reserve azaleas for when the time was right.
I told Emilia that, eventually, we would be at capacity for those kinds of orders and would have to start turning people down.
I thought about Hayden more than I should’ve. At night, mostly. When I was lying in bed and painfully aware of who my roommate really was. I wondered how he was doing with his recuperation. How his physical therapy was going. If he’d found himself a good part-time nurse that would check on things like his diet and vitamin intake. I had the urge to call him on several occasions. I never could bring myself to delete his number from my phone.
But I always chickened out at the last second.
Ivy was gone for the week on business again and I was at the apartment alone. And while I enjoyed Ivy’s presence, I also enjoyed the time to myself. I’d cook in the kitchen and sit on the couch and stare out the window into town. We were just far enough away for the traffic to not bother us but close enough for me to feel like I was still a part of things. A cog in an important turning wheel that somehow helped our fine city to move a little easi
er.
The longer I worked at the florist shop, the more I realized how much I missed it. It was cathartic and peaceful, and nowhere near the type of stress load I endured as an in-home nurse. It felt like I was back home after trying to branch out on my own as a teenager, and there was something comforting about the notion of coming home.
