Page 7

Mom kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl. Love always finds a way.”

“Sometimes love needs to be left on read.” I grab my bag and head out for the new day.

My flower shop is my favorite place in the world. It smells like lavender, roses, and possibility. The painted bell over the door jingles as I unlock it, and the morning light spills in through the wide front windows and falls across rows of cheerful tulips and hydrangeas.

“Mornin’, beautiful,” I greet the hanging fern above the register.

Okay, so I talk to my plants. They listen better than people.

By ten a.m., I’ve taken three delivery orders, arranged a bridal bouquet, and dodged two more matchmaking requests—one from Mrs. Greene (trying to marry off her forty-year-old son who still lives in her basement) and another from a very serious-looking man who wants “a wife with strong faith, no tattoos, and a practical understanding of goat farming.”

I’m half-considering printing a sign that says: “Florist First. Cupid on Occasional Contract.”

The worst part? I kind of love it. Listen, it’s a love-hate relationship, okay? Don’t judge me.

Seeing two people connect, even when they’re awkward or overly enthusiastic about weird values… feels like putting something good into the world—like planting something and watching it bloom.

At precisely noon, the shop bell jingles again, and my best friend Emma breezes in like a walking ray of sunshine, clutching two takeout lattes.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” I ask, reaching for the cup labeledMia—extra vanilla, extra caffeine, no regrets.

She sets the bag down. “Yes, but I like to hear it weekly.”

“Fine. Here’s my weekly submission. I love you.”

She laughs and kisses my cheek before settling down beside me.

I grin. “What’s the gossip? You look like you’re about to burst.”

She practically vibrates as she leans against the counter. “Have you seen what Jack Calloway got himself into this time?”

Emma’s obsession with entertainment and celebrity gossip is one of the many things people don’t know about her. In public, she gives off a composed, boss woman aura. But in private, she eats up tabloid news and gossip columns like her life depends on it. She knows everything and anything about celebrities, especially Jack Calloway.

Jack Calloway. One of the most famous actors in the world. Tall. Handsome. Wealthy. The whole shebang. But I don’t like him. He has the looks; I mean, no matter how much I dislike him, anytime he shows up on my screen, I swoon for a second before catching myself.

The reason I don’t like him? His character. Nah. He’s a playboy and a flirt. Every time I see him on the news, it’s with a different girl. I’m surprised by how much love he’s constantly receiving from women. Don’t they see that he doesn’t respect them?

“What did he do this time?” I groan and move to fluff a bouquet.

“He was caught with Vanessa Howard.”

“So?” I shrug. “Come on, guys, why do we keep acting surprised whenever we see Jack Calloway with a new woman? At this point, we should expect it.”

“No. It’s different.” Emma grabs my hand. “He was caught with Vanessa Howard. As in—Frank Howard’s wife.”

I blink. “Wait, married Vanessa Howard?”

Emma nods, eyes wide. “The internet is losing it. Frank’s pulled funding from Jack’s film. They say Jack might get dropped as the lead.”

I set down the pruning shears. “Well, maybe that’s karma.”

Emma gives me a look. “You don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

“I think Jack Calloway has made a career out of charming women and setting fire to his reputation every six months.”

“He’s a good actor.”

“No doubt. But he’s a reckless person.”