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“They’re beautiful,” I say, turning my attention back to my mom. I’m starting to worry about her. “Maybe you should go to bed and rest, Mom,” I suggest.
She shakes her head no.“I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
I clear away our dishes, scraping our uneaten salads into the trash, and follow her into the living room.
My eyes fall on the vase of fresh blooms, and I wonder if I’ll be forever reminded of this day whenever I smell lilies.
Chapter Four
Tony
Shelby.
She’s all I have been able to think about, and now my beautiful obsession has a name.
Choosing the flowers we send to our clients when they lose a loved one is usually a job for Larissa. If she was surprised when I told her I’d take care of it personally for the England’s, she was too professional to let on.
The pain radiating from Mr. and Mrs. England was evident, but Shelby … hers was a tangible, living, breathing entity.
The urge to reach out and pull her into me and let her unburden herself was overwhelming. Caging that urge and burying it beneath a veneer of professionalism was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.
The choice of flowers was easy. White lilies, but with stems of the palest pink gladioli. Perfect in their simplicity. Lilies for a time to mourn, gladioli for the strength to move forward.
I check my watch. They should have been delivered by now. A large part of me wanted to deliver them myself, but I didn’t want to encroach on the private time of a family in mourning. Truth be told, I don’t understand why I feel so strongly about a woman I’ve only just met.
It frightens me a little, the protective and possessive feelings I have for Shelby. She’s a stranger to me, yet my soul recognizes her on some inexplicable level. I want to soothe her pain and rekindle the light in her beautiful eyes.
I’m no stranger to emotional pain. I held onto my grief for so long, it was slowly destroying me from the inside out. Grief is a process, and I know Shelby has to find her way through it, but I don’t want her to lose whosheis in the loss of a loved one.
I’ve had to stop myself from calling the family several times because I’m desperate to see her again, to make some excuse for them to come to my office or for me to go to them. I’m beginning to think I’ve lost my mind. My daily routine has all but evaporated. I find myself pacing around my apartment, unsure of what I was originally doing.
Larissa knocks on my door, opening it wide to announce my next appointment. “Ms. Johnstone is here to see you, Mr. Russo.”
I stand and welcome her into my office, shaking her hand. I’m glad she could make it back to discuss the changes she wanted because Lord knows I can’t remember a single thing she said the other day.
This time, I manage to focus and make copious notes, ready to update her will as per her wishes.
When she leaves, I feel a whole lot better about my job security.
I open my emails to find a message from my boss, thanking me for helping with Bill’s cases and asking me for a meeting. I wonder what it could mean. It isn’t very often that Reginald Blake mixes with us. We usually determine the workload based on our skillsets, and Reginald deals with the bottom line.
Could Ms. Johnstone have made a complaint about my lack of attention the other day? She didn’t seem affronted at the time.
My mind slips back to Shelby and her parents. Were they offended by my attraction to Shelby? Was it obvious?
Or is it something else entirely?
I’m so fucked up over Shelby and the impending meeting this afternoon that I decide to head out for some fresh air.
It doesn’t surprise me that ten minutes later, I find myself at the coffee cart where I first saw Shelby. Where I first smelled her perfume and was held spellbound by her beautiful blue eyes. The information in her grandpa’s will stated that she lives out of state, which only dwindles my hopes of seeing her again.
As I’m about to pay, a hand shoots forward with a twenty-dollar bill.
“I’ll get this,” says a familiar, if somewhat choked, voice.
I turn to see those unforgettable crystal blue eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones dotted with pink from the cold. I swear, at that moment, my heart stops and restarts to a new rhythm that encompasses her.
“Thank you,” I say as we move away toward the nearest empty bench.
