Chapter 30 – Amelia
Sunday is brunch day. Or at least, it’s supposed to be. I’ve never quite grasped the point of the ritual, but Rosa loves breakfast food (“Every time is breakfast time,” she always insists). So, it’s become tradition to visit the greasy diner halfway between her apartment and mine every Sunday at 11:30 for terrible food and on-the-sly mimosas. Don’t ask me how she gets that much champagne into a flask, but she does.
Except this Sunday, it’s noon, and I’m sitting alone, gamely refusing to indulge the “stood-up” stereotype by staring out the diner window into space while sipping coffee.
I’m staring down at my cold plate of eggs instead. I haven’t heard from Rosa in a few days. Our conversation on the basketball court keeps bouncing around in my head, and the worst thing is that I can’t nail down what bothers me the most about it. I should be happy for her, right? But I don't think I am. Not really, if I’m honest. I don’t really get it and it doesn’t seem like Rosa at all.
Besides, her dig at my “new romance” might have been offhand, but it still stung. Especially after all the support (and frankly, the pushing) she gave me to get it started in the first place.
That’s when an alarm chimes on my phone: Meet Brent for Flowers. I’d been so focused on trying to patch things up between Rosa and me, that I’d almost forgotten I’d agreed to look at flower arrangements with Brent this afternoon.
Another excursion for our nonexistent weddings. Not that I minded. Rosa was right - whatever’s happening with Brent is best described as “whirlwind”…but it’s been a very long time since I’ve experienced anything in my life moving faster than the C Train at rush hour.
I text Brent: Time to stop and smell the roses! See you soon! My phone buzzes almost immediately with a response: Looking forward to it! I catch myself smiling.
Corny as it is, maybe there’s a little thrill seeker in me after all. I decide to accept that Rosa has stood me up, and find out why later, after I’ve seen Brent again, which is all I’ve wanted to do these days, anyway.
When I arrive at the address Brent gave me, I think I’m in the wrong place for a second. The building is practically a skyscraper, and there’s no green grass or flowers in sight, save for the ones in planters stationed to either side of the front door.
I head into the lobby, and my concerns multiply. It’s just a standard entryway, barely different from the one at the law office. I double-check the address on my phone. Yup, Yukon Nursery. This is it. But where is it?
“We’ve gotta go up.” Brent’s voice comes from behind me, and I can hear the grin in it before I even turn to see his face. “Hi.” He hugs me, and I hug him back. Before he pulls away, he kisses my cheek, soft and easy. My skin tingles.
“Follow me.” he takes us into one of the elevators, and pushes the button for 17 - isolated at the very top of the panel.
Standing next to him in the elevator, I can smell him…like a forest in the summer. I don’t know what he’s wearing, but I can feel my own heart beating a little faster because of it. Or maybe just because of him.
The elevator chimes for the 17th floor, and when the doors slide open, I catch my breath loudly enough that Brent chuckles. “Pretty cool, huh? Wait until you see the rest of it.”
We step out of the elevator together. What I at first expected to be an indoor flower shop is actually a rooftop greenhouse - rows of gorgeous flowers are arranged in every direction, radiating out from where we stand at the center of it all, all the way to the edge of the rooftop.
The sky above is a piercing blue (somehow I notice this now, even though it’s the same as when I was on the sidewalk five minutes ago), and the city towers around us. But this little rooftop feels like a whole different world.
“This is incredible. How did you find this place?” I ask, the intoxicating aroma of flowers flooding my nostrils.
Brent smiles, easy and quiet. “Believe it or not? The owner is my old pot dealer.”
“Your what?!” I’m laughing, but Brent nods. “Yup! Marilyn used to hang out in my old neighborhood and sell bud to college kids. And me. Almost got busted one too many times and took her pursuits in a less ‘questionable’ direction. For the most part.”
“Yeah, but most days I just wish I’d moved to California. More flowers are legal out there.”
“I hear you,” he laughs.
“Me too,” someone says. The voice comes from a row over, and when I look there’s a slight woman in a worn sweatshirt and a beanie grinning at us. She points at me. “You’re new.”
“Marilyn, this is my, ah, friend Amelia.” Brent says. Is it my imagination, or does he hesitate a bit before he says ‘friend’?
Marilyn offers a relaxed half-wave to me. “Amelia, nice to meet you. I overheard a bit of your conversation so I see that Brent has already filled you in on our history together. So, wedding-type flowers, huh? For the wedding that’s not happening.”
“Hey, you wanted to keep your deposit.” Brent shoots back, grinning.
“No, I told you I was keeping it no matter what. I have mouths to feed, you know.”
“It’s not my fault Chester eats half his weight in kibble every day.”
“Yeah, well, I should really just let him eat you instead. You’re so muscular and gamey.”
“You’re wounding me here.” Brent claps a hand to his chest, feigning pain. Marilyn grins. She doesn’t look sorry.
“Seriously though - you sure about this? Kelly’s pretty pissed, you know. She even called me to try and get me to not let you buy today.”
Brent suddenly looks uncomfortable. “The whole Kelly thing is under control. Trust me.”
Marilyn doesn’t push it. “Okay, well, long as you’re sure. I’ve got some actual customers over on the other side of the greenhouse, so can you two handle yourselves for a bit while I take care of them?”
Brent waves her off, the grin returning to his face.
“You have interesting friends.” I smirk at him. He smirks back.
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Without thinking, I answer, “Maybe I’d like to.” Brent looks surprised for a second, and I feel a momentary twinge, a concern that I’ve somehow gone too far. But then the smile returns to his face.
“Why don’t we start with flowers and go from there,” he says.
“Deal.” I nod, and we begin to walk down the row together. I figure that’s the end of it. Until I feel his fingers brush my palm, and he takes my hand with a gentle squeeze. I squeeze back.