Page 6

Just me.

And for once, it’s not enough.

MIA

There’s something sacred about mornings in Bardstown, Kentucky. The way the sunlight catches on dew-damp rooftops. The smell of fresh biscuits drifts from Miss Mabel’s diner two streets over. The quiet hum of a town not in a hurry to wake up.

And then there’s my mother.

Now that I live alone, I’m mostly by myself, which is awesome because I love my privacy. But on mornings like this—when she shows up unannounced with a bag of fruit and a pile of stories I didn’t ask for—I find myself tired before the day even begins. Still, there’s something oddly comforting about her chaos.

“Mia Elise Davis, are you ignoring me again?”

I blink up from my mascara wand, nearly poking myself in the eye. “No, Mom. I’m just attempting to make myself look less like a sleep-deprived raccoon.”

She huffs from the hallway, the kind of long-suffering sigh only a retired Southern mother can master. “I’m just saying, Cora Bennett’s daughter is newly single and very lonely. All she needsis a good match, and who better than the world’s most successful unofficial matchmaker?”

“World’s most successful florist,” I mutter, blotting lipstick on a tissue. “Let’s not confuse flower arrangements with being a fairy godmother, Mom. Besides, I’ve told you a million times that I can’t do it.”

“You got Sophie married to royalty, for heaven’s sake!”

“That was—” I sigh, grabbing my bag. “That was an accident. I didn’t even know Graham was a prince.”

She appears in the doorway of my bedroom, arms folded and displaying a determined mischief expression.

“You can’t keep denying that you’ve got a gift,” she says. “Three matches in the past year. All of them are married or engaged. That’s not a coincidence.”

“Or it’s just small-town probability,” I counter, stepping into my flats. “This was cute when I did it for Sophie, Emma, and Riley, but that’s about it. I don’t know why I’ve been getting so many DMs and emails asking me to find a match for them. I’m a florist, not some matchmaker.”

Mom tuts and follows me into the kitchen. “But Cora is my best friend. She wants me to talk you into helping Lily. Lily is sweet. She just needs the right kind of guy.”

“She’s allergic to dogs. She nearly fainted when the last ‘right guy’ brought out his Shih Tzu in a sweater.”

“He probably didn’t mention the dog would be dining with them.”

“He did. Multiple times. Lily said she thought he was joking. Who would joke about something like that?”

“Well, maybe?—”

“She refused to speak to the ‘right guy’ before that unless it was inGame of Thronesquotes.”

Mom grins. “She’s passionate.”

“She’s unhinged.”

“You know you love helping people find love. You’re such a hopeless romantic.”

Okay. My mom is right about one thing: I love helping people find love. The joy of seeing two people you’ve pushed together take the bold leap, holding each other’s hands, is indescribable. I felt it with Emma and Sam. With Riley and Ethan. With Sophie and Graham.

But the part about being a hopeless romantic? Well, I’m not so sure. Maybe once in the past, I used to be. I was madly in love with Ryan, my high school sweetheart. But he moved out of Bardstown and shattered my heart. I’ve been a little guarded since then.

“See? You’re smiling!” Mom laughs.

“Fine. Maybe I do love matching couples, but not when one party is uninterested.”

“Lily is interested now, I promise.” She hands me a travel mug of coffee. “So, you’ll try again?”

I groan but take the cup. “Fine. But this is the last time I try to set her up with someone. She better be ready.”