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It takes every ounce of strength not to let out a scream of frustration. I should have just left the menus and made a run for it while I still had the chance.
Mentally chastising my hungover brain for not giving me the thought sooner, I school my features and paste on a polite smile, “No, but it’s fine.” I wave it off, hoping and praying they grant me mercy and leave it at that.
“Such a shame.” Esme shakes her head with a long sigh “A pretty little thing like you, a spinster. When I was your age, the boys in town took part in the annual logging competition just to win a date with me.”
“No, they didn’t. You were married and pregnant with Simon then,” Rita points out, and Esme frowns with confusion.
“I wasn’t married at eighteen. I was a late bloomer like Mackenzie here. Ronald and I didn’t get married until I was twenty.”
“She’s twenty-five.”
“Oh…oh dear. I forgot,” Esme says, looking at me like my life is already over, and I may as well just write my eulogy right now and get it over with.
As I reach across the table to grab the last menu, a sudden gust of cold wind sweeps across my legs from someone entering the diner, making goose bumps rise on my skin.
“I have an order here for Mackenzie Scott,” A male voice calls out, and my brows knit together in confusion as I stand up straight and tuck the menu under my arm.
“Oh, look!” Esme squeals with excitement, pointing a long bony finger toward the counter. “You have an admirer, after all.”
Turning around, I spot an elderly man, who I assume is a courier, placing a large vase of flowers on top of the counter, and the sight instantly sends my blood running cold. And it’s not from the mere shock of receiving flowers on Valentine’s Day after what feels like the longest two-year dry spell of my life. It’s because the flowers currently showcased in all their glory are none other than the insidious buds of doom they like to call lavender.
And to make matters worse, there are a lot of them.
So many, in fact, that the bouquet itself just looks downright ridiculous.
“Here, I will sign for it,” Lexi pipes up from her stool at the counter, and my jaw goes slack in shock. What the hell is she doing? And when did she get here? I didn’t even see her walk in.
Excusing myself from the Groovy Grannies, I storm over to the counter just as Lexi finishes signing for the order and the courier leaves.
“What are you doing?” I bark, making her jump from her seat and look at me with wide eyes.
“What?”
“This.” I gesture to the flowers, and she glances at the flowers for a moment before looking back at me with a frown.
“They’re flowers.”
“I know that,” I drawl, then give her a pointed look. “It’s lavender, Lexi.”
Her brows furrow deeper, the cogs turning in her head for a moment before realization kicks in, and her eyes go wide. “Oh shit.”
“Yeah,” I huff, reaching up and carefully plucking the card off the top, actively holding my breath the entire time. Not only do I absolutely hate the foul stench of lavender with the passion of a thousand fiery suns, but I also happen to be severely allergic.
Just one whiff of those deadly spores of pollen will set my sinuses off on a rampage of sneezing so violent that it could tear through this diner with the savagery of a Category 5 hurricane, raining down torrents of snot and mucus upon anyone in the same vicinity.
“Christ, I’m so sorry, Kenzie,” Lexi says solemnly, leaning against the counter and brushing back the strands of blonde hair falling haphazardly over her face. “My brain is yet to wake up and function today.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say as I glance down at the card with the business logo for Cygnature Blooms on the front. Turning it over, my vision instantly turns red when I read the message written on the card.
Happy Valentine’s Day Mac
xxx
Oh my god!
He’s trying to kill me!
Not that lavender would, in fact, kill me, but still, I heard once that when you sneeze, your heart stops. So I guess if you sneeze enough times, there’s the potential of it causing a problem.
