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“Smells okay to me,” Devlyn says with an edge of uncertainty in his voice. “Want mine?”
I stare at his Cuban sandwich and my stomach grumbles. They have never been my thing, but maybe because I haven’t tried one in years. Plus, Devlyn takes off the mustard and pickles. A win, if you ask me.
“I’ll give it a try, but only if you don’t mind.”
Devlyn lifts his hand to my cheek, sliding it down until he pinches my chin between his thumb and finger. “Wouldn’t offer otherwise.”
We switch sandwiches and I take a hesitant bite. Worried the cheese from the Cuban will offend too. But as I chew the bite, as all the flavors hit my tongue, I moan. Then I take another bite, close my eyes and savor the taste. Dare I say, I love this sandwich more than my favorite.
“Better?”
I nod with a little too much enthusiasm. “Much, thank you.”
“Think it’s pregnancy related?”
Setting my sandwich down, I eat some of the fruit. “Probably.” I swallow a bite of strawberry. “I read in one of the brochures that diet changes are different for each expecting mother. Some women don’t experience any, with the exception of eating more. Other women crave foods they hated and dislike foods they’ve loved.” I pierce another strawberry and blueberry and point to the sandwich in Devlyn’s hands. “Hope that’s the only issue.”
“Me too.”
Most of lunch goes by in relative silence. A little more than a week has passed since the Karen incident at the grocery store. The first two days post-Karen were iffy. I kept an eye on Devlyn every minute humanly possible. Watched for signs of detachment. Held him often so he didn’t shut down and curl in on himself.
But being with him twenty-four seven is impossible. Life and work continue to demand our time.
Thank goodness he had an appointment scheduled with Dr. Prince two days later.
Although I want Devlyn to share everything with me, I know he needs someone else’s guidance when it comes to this piece of his past. One day, when he is in a better place with it all, he will share.
Until his appointment, Devlyn and I spent every available minute together. When I worked, he was in the studio. Loud, angry music vibrated the walls when I walked through the front door every evening. The music wasn’t offensive, but more like a key to his mood. A glimpse at what I was walking into each day. And with each passing day, the music became less harsh. LessI want to throw shit at the wallsounding.
I want to smack Karen Templar. Dig my nails in her skin and listen to her cries. Get in her face and scream obscenities. Tell her she doesn’t deserve to have someone as wonderful and extraordinary as Devlyn in her life. Make her feel an inkling of the pain she inflicted on her son.
But I won’t do any of the above. Physical altercations and acts of violence wouldn’t help. Not me or Devlyn or the situation as a whole.
This is Devlyn’s battle. One I will help him with, whatever that looks like, but only as he needs me to. I need to be strong for him. Hold him up when his knees buckle. Tell him how much I love him. How I will be there for him always. And if he needs me to step up to the plate, if he needs me to be his voice or his shield, I will do exactly that.
The butcher paper crinkles as we finish lunch and toss our trash in the bin. We tidy up the table and meander back out to the main room of the shop. The older couple from earlier is long gone. A man lingers near the cooler of prearranged vases while a woman wanders near the loose flowers in the customer walk-in.
“See you after work?” Devlyn leans his hip on the arrangement table, his eyes wandering the lines of my profile, heating my skin.
I nod. “Yeah. After I stop by the apartment first.”
He straightens, then leans into me. Presses his lips to my temple. Drops his lips to my ear. “Love you, Andromeda.” He tugs the loose length of my hair. “See you in a bit.”
I reach out, pinch the bottom hem of his shirt as I twist to face him, and kiss him for all to see. The kiss isn’t obscene, but the gentle press of my lips to his lingers. The moment his lips leave mine, I want to dive back in for another. But I resist the urge. Remind myself there is plenty of time for that later. After work.
“Love you too. I’ll text when I’m on my way.”
With one last kiss, Devlyn weaves his way through the back of the shop and out the employee door. I miss him the second the door clicks shut. But his earthy scent and the tingle from his kiss remains. For now, it will have to do.
Elizabeth takes lunch while I man the shop. I wrap a mix of flowers in brown paper and tie them with twine for the woman. She pays and exits the shop.
I snag the arrangement I worked on before lunch and pick up where I left off.
As I finish up the bouquet, the man steps up to the table and asks for help. He wants to send flowers to a friend who lost a loved one. Sifting through the available options, I opt for a small bundle of lilies, add them to a vase with some greenery and give him a small card to fill out for the bouquet. After he pays and exits, the shop is quiet. Too quiet.
I start a new arrangement. Grab a fresh vase and an array of colorful flowers. Add a handful of stems, various greenery and some baby’s breath. As I place it in the prearranged cooler, the bell over the door jingles. Tipping up the corners of my mouth, I pivot on my heel and open my mouth to greet the next customer.
But no words leave my lips. My whole frame stiffens and I forget how to speak.
