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“And she loves you,” Finn responded without hesitation. “So what are you going to do about it?”

The elevator dinged. The doors swished open.

A smile spread across Grant’s face, his first real smile in days.

“I need your help.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

ALEXANDRASTAREDDOWNat the invitation on her desk. The embossed lettering glittered up at her, a sparkling reminder of the world she was no longer a part of.

Her fingers traced the S in “Santos.” It wasn’t the money or name brands or fancy cars she missed. No, it was the man she had fallen in love with not once but twice.

She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. How many people went an entire lifetime without experiencing the kind of love she had? How many would give anything to feel, just for a moment, the way Grant had made her feel? And here she was, on the verge of finally finding some stability with her dream career, moping and wishing for something else.

Was she still the same selfish, spoiled girl she’d been all those years ago? The one who had been too afraid to give up what she’d known for the unknown?

Her phone dinged. She picked it up, her heart plummeting as she read the text from her stepbrother.

Hey, sis. We had an offer to see a wedding venue tonight. Any chance one of your new employees could help with the delivery? I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you!

Seriously? She hadn’t told Finn what had transpired between her and Grant in the Hamptons, but when she’d asked for him and Amanda to take care of setting up the flowers at the Met, he’d looked at her like he’d understood.

She sucked in a deep breath, then another, slowly calming her racing heart. Whether she liked it or not, she hadn’t told Finn. He wasn’t the one to blame.

She was. She’d been so hurt that Grant had jumped to the worst possible conclusion after eavesdropping on her conversation with Ellen. But then hadn’t she proven him right? Instead of staying and fighting, instead of giving him a chance to share his viewpoint, she’d run.

Her eyes drifted back down to the invitation. No longer an innocuous piece of card stock, it taunted her, challenged her to prove to herself that she had truly changed. She wasn’t under her father’s thumb anymore. Nine years ago, even though fear had certainly played a part in her decision to give in to David’s demands, she had genuinely believed herself powerless to stop him from sending Grant and his mother back to Brazil.

She had no such excuse now. Now she was allowing fear to rule her decision making.

The silver cursive flashed in the sunlight streaming in through the front window of her shop. The shop that would only be her home for another week before she moved into a new space just a few storefronts down from The Story Keeper. Harry Hill and his wife, Lucy, had visited her store and, after Lucy had tactfully inquired whether Alexandra was happy with her location, had offered her a lease on the spot for one of their numerous properties.

The brief rekindling of her romance with Grant may have gone down in flaming glory. But at least the rest of her life finally seemed to be sliding into place. A life she had worked hard for, risked so much for.

Wasn’t Grant worth one more risk?

Determination strengthened her spirit. She would conduct herself as a professional and deliver the flowers, set them up, make sure that Grant’s final event went off without a hitch. And, before she left tonight, she would tell him she loved him. If his fury in the Hamptons was any indicator, he wouldn’t reciprocate with loving words of his own.

But she owed them both the truth. Owed him the knowledge that he was worth more to her than her fear.

She picked up her phone before she lost her nerve and texted back.

Not a problem. I’ll take care of it.

Little bubbles popped up, disappeared and then another text appeared.

Great. Tonight’s your night, sis.

She bit back the urge to laugh. Yeah, tonight would be a night to remember. If things went the way they had in the Hamptons, orders would be rolling in to The Flower Bell faster than she would be able to keep up. Toss in a new location in Greenwich Village and she would be set.

It would be the thing that kept her going after she offered up her bruised and battered heart for a third and, hopefully, final rendering.

She texted back with a smiley face that mocked the ache growing inside her chest.

Yeah, maybe you’re right.

Alexandra wiped her palms on her pants as she glanced nervously around the grand hall in the museum. The gala wasn’t supposed to start for another hour. The setting sun’s rays lit up the hall and highlighted the reds, pinks, corals and ivories of the arrangements she’d created for tonight’s event. The bright colors gave a nod to the spring season, while the timeless elegance of roses and peonies reinforced the Pearson Group’s image: innovative and fearless, but also trustworthy and classy. Once the lights were dimmed and the silver votives lit, the flowers would pop against the backdrop of black tablecloths.

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