Chapter Nineteen
Emma
Since I’d been scheduled for the “late” shift, only coming in after lunch, I’d set my alarm for eleven in the morning. Because I’d been exhausted and angry and sad, I’d gone to bed early, Bast curled up against my side, just under my arm, comforting me. She might not have understood why I was upset, but she knew that I was, and she’d done what she could.
When I woke up, I checked my phone as always—and that was when I saw that I’d gotten a text message from Stefan in the middle of the night, about an hour after I’d set my phone to “Do Not Disturb” and curled up in my bed feeling sorry for myself. I definitely remember you. I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out why he would have sent that as a message, and then after beating my brains about it, it came to me: my last voicemail to him.
“Well, what am I supposed to do with that?” I scowled at my screen as if it might give me the answer. It didn’t answer what I really wanted to know: whether Stefan still wanted to have anything to do with me. I closed out the message and decided to worry about answering it later. Stefan had kept me hanging all day and all night; I could, in fairness, leave him hanging at least a few hours until I decided whether he was just messing with me.
I got ready for work and had homemade brunch, since I would be getting in after the meal break and not staying long enough to have a meal break of my own before the shop closed. The shop would have already been open for a few hours by the time I got there, so at least I wasn’t going to have to deal with any of the opening chores. I would just have to work with customers, help build bouquets for orders, and help close at the end of the day. Not a bad situation to be in at all.
I pulled into the back parking lot for the employees and saw that Sabrina was at the shop—the delivery van was parked where it normally was when she was between runs. I thought about asking her about what to do about Stefan and smiled to myself as I imagined what her response would be. If nothing else, at least Sabrina would have an interesting viewpoint, and if I asked her not to mention it to Nora—who still seemed to be waiting for me to say something about Stefan—she wouldn’t betray my trust. Ginger might, with the best of intentions.
“Emma! You’re just on time,” Nora said. “You have a customer up front.”
I frowned. “Isn’t Ginger still in? And Sabrina?”
Nora shrugged, and I caught a strange look on her face, but it was gone before I could really tell what it was.
“The customer asked for you specifically,” she said. “Mentioned that you knew more about flowers than anyone else he knew, so he wanted your consultation on a bouquet.”
I walked out to the front, ready to lecture someone on the right kind of flowers for whatever occasion they needed them for. But instead of some anxious man wanting to get the right flowers for his first date with a new girl, I saw Stefan standing at the counter. Sabrina and Ginger were talking to him, looking as if they were fast friends. In front of him, there was a big, beautiful bouquet: purple hyacinth and white gladioli. I’m sorry, I’m sincere, the flowers were meant to symbolize.
“We’ve spent half the day waiting for you to get here,” Ginger told me. “We helped Stefan here pick out the flowers, though he had a pretty good idea of what he wanted when he came in.”
“They’re for you,” Stefan told me quietly.
I looked at my two coworkers, and at Nora, who’d come up to the front with me.
“You knew you wanted those?” I frowned a little, confused and starting to feel almost tricked.
“You know, he’s a lot nicer than you led us to think,” Ginger told me.
“I have to admit, my first impression of him being kind of a jerk was wrong,” Sabrina added.
“You knew you wanted those?” I looked at Stefan firmly.
“I hope I chose right,” he said, shifting a little and meeting my gaze. “I’m sorry I missed your calls, and I’m sorry if I didn’t get the point across to you the right way in my message last night.”
I crossed my arms over my chest; I didn’t really want to hear him out, but I had to admit I was curious. “So, what kept you for so long?”
Stefan grinned at me. “You remember how you thought you recognized me from somewhere?”
I felt the blood starting to rise up into my cheeks.
“I do some modeling. These days, almost all of it is for romance novel covers.”
“Which I think is an excellent use of your talents,” Nora told him.
Stefan laughed that off and turned his attention back onto me. “I was out of town on a shoot, and I forgot to bring my charger. I was a total space cadet. I’m sorry.”
I knew he had to be telling the truth, or at least I had to suspect he was; after all, I had already known that he was the cover model for my most recent book purchase.
“That does make you kind of a bonehead,” I said with a little bit of a smile.
“Unfortunately, when I was looking up the language of flowers earlier today, I couldn’t find a flower that represents that one,” Stefan told me.
“Columbine,” I said tartly.
He raised an eyebrow, and I wondered if he knew what that actually meant.
“I was hoping that I could make it up to you and take you on a proper date—just the two of us,” he said.
I looked at Sabrina and Ginger and Nora, and I knew without asking what answer they wanted me to give.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I appreciate the bouquet, but I don’t think it’s going to work between us.” I didn’t really want to say it—not like that—but I also couldn’t bring myself to say yes, even with the thoughtful apology.
For a second, Stefan looked stunned, and then defeated. “Can’t I convince you in any way?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But no.”
He held my gaze a moment longer and then turned away, leaving his bouquet behind.
“Are you out of your mind?” Sabrina almost glared at me.
“He’s such a good guy! And he’s hot,” Ginger added.
“He seemed to have such strong feelings for you, Emma,” Nora finished.
“He left me hanging for two days,” I told them. “I don’t have time for that in my life.”
“He’s such a sweet guy though,” Sabrina insisted. “While he was waiting for you to come in, he bought five hundred dollars’ worth of flowers for people. He gave us the cash and told us that if anyone came in who looked sad or didn’t have enough money to pay for what they really wanted, that we should take it from the five hundred.”
I stared at her. Five hundred.
“Can I please just work? Let’s get down to it, and not discuss my personal life for a while,” I said.