Page 38 of Bouquets and Buckles

“I’ve got a hot date.” I pin my phone against my ear with my shoulder and use both hands to start fussing with the gorgeous bouquet being picked up any minute now. A guy called in earlier to order these flowers, all sweaty palms and nerves, because he’s proposing to his girlfriend tonight. It was very sweet, and he asked me what I thought about every detail he’s got planned for the special moment. Based on how much thought and planning he’s put into this, I told him she’ll be swept off her feet.

“A date? You do?” Brad sounds stunned.

“Don’t be so shocked down to your cute lil’ bisexual booties.”

“Are you fucking with me?”

That makes me frown. “Since when did I have to report my every single move to you, hmm?”

“Sky…” He scolds.

“What? I do. It’s this very sexy evening I’ve got going on. It’s called being a small business owner who has to be responsible and do her taxes.” I tug on a length of ribbon from the holder, snipping it off, and begin to tie a bow around the gathered stems.

“So, not an actual date?”

“It’s as close as I’ll get, B.” I laugh at how dismally boring my life is. Not bitter about it, at all. “Super romantic, though. Between my laptop… my spreadsheet… a bit of wine, throw in some cheese, put on a facemask, it’s a whole thing.”

“Well, let me come crash your incredibly lame night, and I can try help, or at the very least I’ll do facemasks with you and feed you ice cream.”

“Salted Caramel?”

“I’ve got a pint of that and chocolate fudge. Didn’t know what your broken heart would be in the mood for.”

I pause. Licking my lips as I try to figure out how to respond.

“You know I’m long over Jeremy. You don’t have to mother-hen me. I’m honestly fine.” Sweeping my palm across theworkbench, I gather up the scattered off-cuts of stems from the arrangement and toss them in the trash.

After the scene I discovered on Christmas Eve, I cut all contact and blocked his ass everywhere. He can enjoy whoever his kitchen blow-job-blondey is. I’ll gladly never see the prick ever again.

“I’m not talking about wank face Jeremy.”

My stomach drops.

“I’m talking about whatever jerk you hooked up with on New Year’s and have been moping around about ever since.”

“I didn’t—”

“Look. I’m gonna be on your front porch at six. So you can try to wriggle out of telling me everything then, but spoiler alert, I’m gonna get it out of you.”

The door to my shop opens, with the nervous fiancé-to-be arriving right on time to collect his flowers.

“I gotta go, B.”

“Facemasks and spilling your guts start at six.”

“You suck,” I hiss.

“I do. Very well, might I add. Just ask Flinn how good mysuckingis.”

I hang up on his hysterical laughter and flash a bright smile while holding out the perfect bouquet to symbolizelove.

Meanwhile, my heart aches for the loss of my own.

Chapter 26

There’s a half-eaten wedge of brie, two slices of leftover pizza, and a bottle of white wine occupying my otherwise empty fridge.

At least that’s dinner sorted for this evening.