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She took the money, pressing a few buttons on the cash register before making change and passing it over. “Seven-fifty.”
“Thanks.”
“You wear jeans to work? I guess I expected a uniform or something.”
I looked down at my jeans and tee, offering up a small smile at all of her questions. “I showered and changed first. Trust me, I needed it after the shift I had. Besides, Marines can’t wear coveralls out in town.”
“I see. Lots of rules in that world of yours.”
“Speaking of that world of mine, listen. I wanted to talk about our date.”
“I don’t really see the connection between those two things, but what about the date?”
“It was great. I had a really good time with you.”
The corner of her lip twitched. “We already talked about that, when you dropped me off.”
“I know. But I also should have said that we should do it again. So, that’s why I’m here. To tell you that.”
“Well, you wasted a trip, then. Because, as I said, I wish things could be different … but they’re not. You’re temporary.”
Feeling more confident than I likely should have, I put my hands on the counter between us, the fragrant aroma from the bouquet working its way to my nose. “I know. And I can’t change that. But if we don’t give this a shot, I think we’ll both regret it.”
She sucked in a breath, and color reached her cheeks, twisting me up inside. Then she looked down. “If you can’t change the fact that you’re temporary, there’s no sense in doing that. We’ll still have regrets. Just later, when you leave.”
“What if you could come with me? I know, I know, jumping the gun. But if, in two years, we’re still together … wouldn’t that be an option?”
She looked at me like I had just suggested she start bartering with local businesses instead of selling her flowers to paying customers. “Of course, that’s not an option.”
“Why not?”
“Thatcher, look around. This is my life. This shop means the world to me. I’m killing myself trying to help my parents save it, and the last thing I’d ever do is leave them with even less help. Definitely not in two years. I’m hoping we’ll have made some serious progress by then, but even if we have, I want to run this place myself eventually, remember?”
Right. How could I have been so stupid? I knew that.
She’d told me all about it yesterday, but for some stupid reason, I hadn’t actually weighed it into this grand plan. Now I just felt guilty, like I’d minimized everything she’d expressed to me at the wedding.
I hung my head, sighing heavily. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I would never ask you to do that.”
“Okay.”
My gaze met hers, hating the finality of her tone. “So, that’s really it, then?”
“Unless you happen to be getting out of the military, then yeah. And, of course, I’d never ask you to do that, so don’t get nervous.”
“I’m not. But yeah, I plan to do the full twenty, so getting out isn’t on the table.”
“How many more years do you have?”
Pausing, I sighed. “Thirteen. And I just submitted my re-enlistment package last week.”
With a pained smile, she looked around the shop. “Well, hey, if it’s meant to be, maybe it’ll be. Look me up when you get out. Hopefully, I’ll be right here.”
Resigning myself to the hard truth—still unnerved by how weird it was that I cared this much—I picked up my mom’s bouquet. “I’ll do that. Thanks for the flowers.”
“Anytime.”
I turned to go, then stopped, facing her again. One more shot. If she shut me down, I’d make like Stella and take the hint. “What if we were just friends?”
