‘I want to die.’ She’d been so desperate to empty her bladder and rid her head of those delicious Nick images, Jenna had run home faster than she’d imagined she ever could. Then she’d been inundated with chores, so she hadn’t had time to stretch out her muscles after their unfamiliar exercise. Now, every time she moved, her hips and knees screamed in protest. Stiff. Yes.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought of that conversation. And her body prickled all over again. Damn it.

Chloe called out from the back office, ‘Please don’t die, Jenna. It won’t look good if I have to leave our new premises so soon and change the address on my stationery all over again.’

Jenna started to take yesterday’s flowers out of the tall fridge where she’d kept them over night. ‘Thanks a bunch. Stationery ranks higher than me dropping dead right here, right now. A great big sister you are.’

‘The best.’

‘I’m walking and groaning like Mum. Every step hurts.’

Chloe came through to the shop bearing two cups of coffee, which she put on the counter. As usual, she was power-dressed, as if she was working in an office in the City, with executive heels, and a dark trousers and white silk blouse combo. She always looked amazing and made Jenna feel just a little bit lacking with her undoubtedly toddler-food stained T-shirt and jeans. Chloe peered closely at her sister. ‘Actually, you do look a bit knackered.’

‘Geez, thanks. I am. I feel like I haven’t slept for twenty years.’ There was no hiding anything from Chloe. They had a weird telepathic relationship borne out of years of living in each other’s pockets. Actually, Chloe had sometimes been the insufferable older sister, and Jenna had often felt she was being smothered, particularly when Chloe hid the financial problems their wedding planning company Something Borrowed had been facing over the last year.

But her big sister had been looking out for her, looking after her, she got that. Jenna just wished she’d been able to pull herself out of her grief fog earlier and helped, instead of Chloe bearing that burden on her own. But at least now they were properly working together, towards something better. Still, keeping the surprise wedding plans under wrap was going to be hard when they shared the same space.

Chloe was still peering at her, her nose wrinkled up. ‘Something’s not right with you. Did Evie keep you up in the night? Oh, poor thing, is she still sick?’

‘No, she’s fine. Actually….’ Through the stiffness, Jenna felt an unusual little jolt of pride. She was finally starting to do things for herself instead of just going through the motions and focusing all her energies on her daughter and surviving. There was definitely no grief fog, although there were still intense moments of missing Ollie, but she knew she had to move forward. And even though her body ached, her brain felt the clearest and brightest it had for years. She hoped it was the effect of early morning exercise and not early morning sexual yearning. ‘I got up early for a run.’

Chloe’s hand stilled in mid-air, coffee cup hovering precariously from her fingers. ‘Ha ha. Good one. No, really, why are you so tired? Oh, please tell me, you’re not having night terrors all over again? I thought they’d gone for good.’

‘They have.’ Jenna couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a nightmare. They’d come thick and fast after losing Ollie, then again after having Evie, but gradually lessened until nothing. ‘I ran.’

‘You did not.’ Her sister shook her head and laughed. Some joke.

‘I did. Look, it says on my app.’ Jenna flashed her phone and bristled. ‘I did almost three kilometres. Most of it was in shuffle or walk mode, but I did manage to run a bit too.’

‘Well done, you! No wonder you want to die.’

‘To be honest, that’s more because I bumped into Nick while I was doing it.’

‘Oooh? That explains the funny look on your face and the overall glow. It has nothing to do with exercise. Having him living just round the corner is very convenient for… things.’ Chloe’s eyes twinkled and Jenna’s heart started in free fall. One day her sister would realise that not everyone wanted to be in a relationship. In fact, Chloe had been that anti-relationship person too, only a few months ago, which she seemed to have conveniently forgotten. ‘What happened? Did your eyes meet romantically across the road and then you jogged together in perfect harmony?’

‘No, he caught me hugging a lamppost and struggling to breathe while my vajayjay ate my shorts. One day that man will find me being sophisticated and calm and in complete control, he will.’ And why it mattered that he kept on finding her compromised, she didn’t want to admit. Ollie had accepted her for who she was; he’d loved her, cherished her and then he’d gone. What did it matter how a man felt about you if he was going to break your heart in the end anyway? Much better to avoid any of that and get on with being on your own.

And then there was little Evie to think about; Jenna wasn’t about to take risks with a man if her daughter’s heart was also on the line.

Chloe came from behind the counter and wrapped Jenna in a hug. ‘You are who you are, Jenna. Just adorable. If he doesn’t love you for you, then he’s not the one you want.’

‘He’s not the one I want. No one is. Oh, and that’s another thing. He gave me the impression you had something to do with him appearing at the shop opening. Did you invite him?’

‘I may have sent a little text.’ Chloe waved her hand aimlessly in the air as if none of this mattered. It did. He did. And that was the problem.

‘Stop it right now. Do not meddle. I don’t want Nick in my life. Not that he’s ever given me the slightest hint he wants to be in mine. We’re not going there. I don’t want to go there, okay?’ Trying to convince herself, Jenna untangled her body from her sister’s arms and started to empty the boxes of fresh flowers the delivery guy from New Covent Garden had left.

Chloe sighed and came over to help. ‘I think the lady protests too much.’

‘How many times do we need to go over this? I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready. Okay? I’m wobbly and a mother, and it’s too much for my head to get round. I have enough to do.’ Jenna could feel her voice rising and tried to calm it, protesting as little as she could get away with without stupid comments. ‘I’m fine on my own. I don’t want another man. I don’t want to fall in love. I’ve done it once. Never again, thanks.’

The only reason she had a modicum of sanity left was because she’d spent the last three years consoling herself that Ollie was watching down on her, so she could hardly pretend all that was nonsense when it wasn’t convenient. In the early days, she’d felt his presence. Or, at least, had ached so much for him she’d looked for any kind of sign and told herself it was a message from him. White feather on the ground? He was close by. His face, vivid, in a dream? He was telling her he was okay. How could she do anything frisky with him watching her? How could she do anything frisky at all with a stomach like a muffin, oozing over the top of her jeans? No one would want to frisk with her anyway, not like this. ‘I don’t want Nick to love me. I don’t want anyone to love me.’

‘You do. You just don’t realise it.’

Which was exactly the same sort of sentiment Jenna felt about Chloe not wanting to marry Vaughn, so she let it go. Yes, they needed to stay out of each other’s love lives, but Jenna was arranging the surprise wedding for a good reason. It was coming from a good place. She loved her sister dearly and wanted her to be happily settled with a good man. One of them had to be, or how would Evie ever learn about developing good solid lasting relationships? ‘Right, well, once I’ve finished putting this lot out, I’ll check the website for any messages or orders.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Chloe snapped back into work-mode. ‘I’ve taken two calls already about an order for a delivery to Royal Crescent.’

‘Oooh, sounds posh. I’ll put on my best voice, then.’ Jenna tried to mimic the Queen. ‘Good morning, haw can ah help?’

Coolly regarding her over her coffee cup, Chloe grimaced. ‘I think that’s more likely to put them off; you sound like you’ve got your mouth full. It’s for a get well soon bouquet and no lilies, please. I told them I’ll be doing deliveries later this morning.’

‘I know we said you could do the deliveries until we get really busy and can afford to take on someone else, but can I do it today? Please? I’d love to see where my flowers end up. I want to see the look on their face when they receive them. Just this once.’

Chloe looked horrified. ‘What? Leave me here on my own? What if someone wants to buy something?’

‘You can manage. You know how the chip and pin machine works. You can sell a bunch of flowers, surely? It’s not that hard. Anyway, I won’t be long. It’s only down the road.’

‘I don’t know… I really don’t.’ Chloe shook her head.

‘Please?’

‘If anyone needs anything other than bunches while you’re out, we’ll be in big trouble.’

‘We’ve been over this, Chloe. You did really well when I was showing you what to do, and how many times have you tweaked a drooping bouquet or weather damaged posy at a wedding? You need to do some on your own in case I’m ever sick or something. You said it, we’re in this together. I help you with your business, you help me here. My first delivery. Wow. Please? Then it’s all over to you until we can find someone to do it for us on the cheap.’

There was a long pause, but eventually Chloe rolled her eyes—frighteningly similar to their mother in some ways. ‘Okay. Okay. You do the first delivery. And it’ll be your last until we get someone in to do it. Then we really do need to get your website pages up and running so people can just click and message and link you up to Interflora and all the other online services. I’ll sort it when I get back from the XO launch meeting. You know, I’m really glad we decided to branch into general event planning. The books are really filling up.’ Chloe was on full switched-on mode today. She hauled a breath as she tapped her pencil on her notepad. ‘Oh, and Tammy Devereaux called and said she needed to speak to you. Which is very weird, seeing as she’s a wedding celebrant and I’m the wedding planner, not you. I asked if she had her wires crossed and she said no, you’d left her a message. Why did you leave her a message?’

Damn. The celebrant Jenna had hoped to book for Chloe and Vaughn’s wedding. It was supposed to be a secret, and she’d expressly said that in her voice message. ‘Really? No, can’t imagine why she’d call me. Maybe there’s another Jenna she meant to call and she pressed the wrong button on her phone. She has her wires crossed. I’ll call her later.’ When you’re out.

‘Okay, still weird, but whatever. Oh, and you might like to see something.’ Chloe’s eyes glittered.

But Jenna’s heart crashed. Whatever it was, Chloe was deriving great satisfaction and fun from it. ‘What?’

‘Oh, just something online.’

Jenna couldn’t imagine what it could be. But then… ‘Oh God, the opening write-up.’ There was a clutch in Jenna’s chest. ‘I don’t want to look. I’m all nervous. What the heck has Marnie said? There are photos of me looking gargantuan in lavender cream, right? And a piece about the whole opening being a disaster.’

‘Come see.’

‘Oh, I can’t look.’ Jenna followed Chloe into the office, sat in front of the computer and put her fingers over her eyes, leaving tiny gaps so she could squint away her embarrassment. ‘Move. Let me look.’

‘Here. See. Not so bad at all. She mentions the attempted theft and the chase, but makes it sound completely not your fault. She even says the shop smelt divine. See.’

Marnie had embraced the feel-good nature of a new local business start-up and had included details about special offers and the limited time discounts. She’d also included a photo she’d taken before the great cupcake calamity and Evie’s opening upchuck. ‘Well I never, perhaps Marnie’s starting to soften in her old age.’

‘Old? She looks about the same age as you. But, whatever, yes. It’s good. For something she’s written, anyway.’

Jenna’s poor heart started to slow a little. ‘It’s the first positive sign I’ve had.’

Chloe tapped her pen harder. ‘For goodness sake, just listen to yourself. There was a little glitch and that was all. Look at the good things that are happening; a shop, a daughter. A man… er, friend. They far outnumber a bit of cream on your dress.’

‘A bit of cream? Nick said it was up my nose. It was in my hair. I looked like a walking bloody cupcake—no, I looked like a muffin, especially with these hips.’

‘Oh, stop catastrophising. It’s not like you, Jenna. You’re usually so positive.’

‘I can’t help it. I think it’s because I’m transitioning to a new phase in my life and I’m unsure and a bit unsettled. The counsellor at Grief Group says it’s to be expected, but I’ll get over it. I am getting over it. I will get over it.’ She had to. She had to have normalcy in her life. She had to stop veering from disaster to potential disaster. Stop seeing the danger in everything, otherwise she’d become a nervous wreck. Again.

There was a bumping sound in the front of the shop. ‘Was that the door?’ Chloe gave a quick squeak of excitement. ‘Jenna, my love, you have your first real face-to-face customer.’

Jenna’s heart started racing all over again as she wiped her hands down the front of her jeans. ‘Oh my God. This is it. Wish me luck!’

‘You don’t need luck. You’ll do just great.’

Jenna tried to get up, but her knees had given up completely. She pushed up slowly and managed to stand. Eventually. ‘If only I could make it to the next room without crawling. I don’t know how Nick runs for miles and miles and miles without breaking a sweat.’

And damn it if she wasn’t right back there again. The feel of his cheek against hers and the heat in those lovely dark eyes as he smiled at her. She felt a shiver through her body, a responding heat down low.

Nick. Nick. Nick. Always at the forefront of her mind, even when there were other pressing things to think about, other things she should be doing.

She wished he’d run right out of her head altogether.

---

Three hours later, Jenna was standing outside a grand terraced house with white pillars framing a bright blue door, and window boxes filled with slightly shabby and needing-to-be-dead-headed geraniums, in Royal Crescent. Even though her hand was itching to snap off those brown curly leaves, she kept it tightly wrapped round the large lily-free bouquet. With her other hand, she pressed the doorbell and waited.

And waited.

And waited. She tiptoed to try to peer into the window, but the blinds were down. There was no sound coming from inside, no evidence of anyone at home. No one eagerly waiting to receive the flowers, no surprised grin or an ‘oooh, they’re lovely’ at her carefully crafted bouquet.

So much for her first delivery. Great.

Be positive. At least she’d got out into the fresh air of the lovely early September day. The tips of the leaves on the maple trees were starting to turn from green to russet. Soon the pavements would be strewn with leaves and she’d take Evie to crunch through them as she had done as a child. There was a soft chill in the air and a sense of time moving forward, always—always in nature things were changing. Little stood still.

Funny, she felt as if she’d been standing still far too long, not just here on these stone steps, but in her life.

A new beginning. She smiled to herself and her heart tripped a little. A shop and even a run this morning, however difficult it had been, was a start.

She absolutely refused to think about Nick again, and the way his muscles moved as he ran. Or the soft, warm look in his eyes.

The gentle kiss on her cheek.

But there he was, in her head.

No. Focus. What to do with the flowers? Leave them here on the step announcing to the world that the house was empty? Take them back to the shop and try delivering them later? Yes. She’d get Chloe to come back later.

As she turned to leave, her phone rang; the celebrant she’d been trying to get hold of. Finally.

Jenna leaned against one of the white pillars. ‘Tammy, hi! Thanks for getting back to me. I’m just out and about, so reception’s not great, but I was wondering whether we could have a chat?’ Was this going to sound really stupid? Yes. It probably was. ‘Look, I need a celebrant for Chloe’s wedding, and I know she likes you, so I wondered if you’d be free on the first of October?’

‘Oh? She didn’t mention it when I called her this morning.’

‘You were supposed to call me. Chloe doesn’t know she’s getting married. I’m arranging it for her.’ There was a long pause. Jenna assumed Tammy was joining all the dots, but just in case she wasn’t, she added, ‘It’s a surprise wedding.’

‘Oh. Is that wise?’ Tammy was Chloe’s favourite celebrant because she was so easy to deal with, always accommodating and just a little quirky with her recommendations for personalised vows. She was Jenna’s perfect fit for what she had in mind, but Tammy didn’t sound convinced. ‘I’ve heard of brides organising things for grooms, and grooms organising things for brides, but not… not this.’

‘I think they just need a gentle push, that’s all. They’re a little wedding shy.’

‘That’s not always unusual. Is there any other reason? Has either of them been married before? Is one of them still married?’

Good point. Jenna had no idea about Vaughn’s past, only that his previous important someone had died. ‘Hmmm. Leave it with me. I’ll let you know. But is it something you can do?’

‘I, well, I suppose I could. Let me have a think…. It’s a bit out there, Jenna, to be honest.’

Seemed to be the only feedback she was getting from everyone. Maybe it really was a stupid idea. ‘Okay, well, could I call you back in a couple of days?’ Jenna hammered on the door again. Last chance, mate. Time was ticking on and she needed to get back to the shop.

Inside the house, something hit the floor with a loud crash.

Then, ‘Aaaaaargh!’

The sound of something shattering. Another screech and, ‘I’ll bloody kill you.’

Whoa. A chill ran down Jenna’s back. Someone was in trouble. Balancing the phone in one hand and the bouquet under her arm, Jenna called through the brass letterbox, ‘Oh. Hello! Are you okay?’

‘Jenna?’ Tammy’s voice called from her phone. ‘What’s happening? Is everything all right?’

‘I’m not sure. Hang on. I’m just looking through the letterbox.’ She couldn’t see anything, but there was a strange dragging sound in one of the rooms, like someone pulling something heavy across the floor.

A body?

Her heart rate doubled against her ribcage.

Don’t be silly. There she was with the catastrophising again. Before Ollie died, she’d never been like this. Get a grip.

Now, an almost animal meowl came from the house. A cracked, wobbly woman’s voice sobbed, ‘Oh, no! What have you done?’

Something was happening just out of view in the room at the end of the corridor.

‘Jenna. Jenna.’

‘Tammy? I’m delivering flowers and there’s some strange noises coming from inside. Something has smashed and now someone’s screaming. Shouting. They said, ‘I’ll kill you.’ Turning her attention back to the house, Jenna called through the letterbox again and tried the door knob, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Hello! Can you open the door? Do you need help? An ambulance? The police?’

‘Police?’ Tammy screamed down the phone in horror. ‘Should I call the police? Where are you?’

‘I’m on Royal Crescent. Um, Holland Park. But I don’t know what’s…. Tammy?’ The phone was dead. Jenna pocketed it and hammered again on the bright blue door. ‘Hello! Hello!’

Silence.

‘Hello! Are you okay? Should I get help?’

More silence.

Then, ‘Twist and push. Push! Hard!’ said the frail voice.

‘The door? Twist the doorknob and push? Okay! Don’t worry. I’m coming.’ Taking a deep breath, Jenna twisted the large brass doorknob and heaved her shoulder against the blue wood. The door shot open and she was propelled into the corridor. She used the momentum to speed her way into the room at the end, realising too late she was armed only with a bouquet.

Déjà vu. Only this time she was the flower-wielding crazy not her sister. And what the hell use it would be on an armed attacker she didn’t know. ‘Hello? Hell—Oh. Goodness, what on earth happened?’

She was in a large kitchen, pine dining table and chairs to her left, kitchen appliances straight ahead, well used but posh and with gleaming stainless steel. At her feet was a pale lady who looked about two hundred years old, crumpled on the floor with blood dripping down her cheek. Pale eyes blinked up. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

‘Goodness, I wouldn’t do that.’ Surely someone holding flowers didn’t look like they would hurt anyone? Then she remembered Chloe and the best-man battering and knelt down, softening her voice. ‘I thought you were being attacked. Is…’ Jenna glanced around the room, her heart still tripping along too fast. ‘Is there someone else here? Are you on your own?’

‘Of course I’m on my own. Can you see anyone else?’

‘No.’ But that didn’t mean they weren’t hiding out in a cupboard somewhere wielding a knife or an axe or a gun. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Do I look okay?’ The pale eyes stilled and possibly rolled a little in that way mothers do to their offspring—and the offspring do to their mothers.

‘Well, no. But who were you talking to? Where’ve they gone? What happened?’

‘A stray got in and frightened my poor Bluebell.’

‘Bluebell?’

‘My cat. That sash window’s stuck and I can’t close it properly, so the damned stray keeps getting in and frightening her, and I’ve had enough. I screamed at it, again and again, but it attacked at me.’ She held a shaking hand to her bloody face. ‘Jumped up and scratched me. I fell over and pulled the tablecloth with me. I was trying to get up when I heard you making all that commotion through the letterbox.’

A cat fight—which explained just about everything. The scream. The shouting. The dragging noise. Wait, commotion? She’d been trying to help. There was no evidence of any cats here now, apart from a faint feline smell mixed in with the old lady’s flowery perfume. ‘I see. But are you okay?’

The woman shook her head, sadly. ‘I’ve broken something.’

She had a gash on her cheek, but it certainly didn’t look serious enough to have fractured a cheekbone. Jenna looked down at the lady’s arms; she was moving both of those. Her neck and back seemed okay. Her knees were hidden under a tweed skirt. ‘Your leg? Hip?’

The lady pointed behind her. ‘A vase. There’s glass all over the floor. Blake said he was sending flowers, and I was getting ready for them.’

So nothing too serious, then. Relief ran through Jenna. ‘Okay. So you’re Aunt Annabel, right?’

‘Annabel Delacourte. Yes. Are those my flowers? From the nephew who lives just across the city but doesn’t have time to visit?’

‘Yes.’ Jenna didn’t need to look at the label; she’d written it with her special calligraphy pen and had looked at it on and off while she’d been standing on the stone steps outside. ‘From Blake. With love. Always.’

‘Bit of a measly display. I expected more for a colonoscopy.’

Oh. Disappointment flooded through Jenna. This was one of her favourite arrangements; white roses, gypsophila and germini. And it was definitely the first and last time she was going to rush to see the reaction of her clients to her lovely flowers. ‘I think they’re beautiful. Understated rather than gaudy. But they might have got a bit battered as I ran down the corridor.’ When I was saving your life from an attacker.

‘Hmmph.’

It wasn’t exactly the smiling thanks and appreciation of her flowers she’d hoped for. Perhaps there was a reason Blake didn’t bother coming across the Thames to see his Aunty, maybe it was something to do with her manners. Jenna sucked up her irritation, clearly the woman was in shock and possibly in pain. A colonoscopy had to hurt, as did a fall on the floor, even if it was just a strike to her pride. ‘Okay, well, I’ll get a dustpan and brush and clear up the glass, and then we can get you upright and into a proper chair.’

‘Under the sink.’ Annabel waved a limp hand towards the kitchen counters. ‘Don’t go rooting in my cupboards.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ How sad to be so wary and untrusting of everyone. Jenna stood and hopped over the glass to the kitchen, found the dustpan and brush and carefully knelt, sweeping up the glass. ‘When I’m done, I’ll pop the kettle—’

‘Police!’ The front door clattered, interrupting her flow. Heavy footsteps bounded down the hall. Then someone—more than one—burst through the door. ‘Police! Freeze.’

‘What the—?’ Jenna froze completely, her back to the door so she couldn’t see what was happening. Her eyes fixed on Annabel’s, which were still pale but now narrowed and even more suspicious. This was getting more and more surreal. Definitely the last time she’d deliver anything to anyone.

A gruff, sharp voice spoke authoritatively. ‘Okay, stand up slowly. Put whatever it is in your hands down. I said, put it down, lady.’

That voice. Her mind swung back to early this morning, a brush of skin on skin. Toned thighs and a kind smile. But what if she was wrong? What if it wasn’t Nick? And what if she moved too quickly, turned around too fast and, by trying to do the right thing, she did the absolute wrong thing?

Her back to the police officers, she carefully dropped the dustpan, slowly lay the brush on the floor, and then raised her hands. ‘I can explain. I… it’s not a weapon. It’s—’

There was an audible intake of breath. ‘Jenna? Jenna? What the hell?’

Nick.

Yep.

Ice trickled down her spine. Of course Nick. Why not Nick when she was on her hands and knees, backside up in the air and about to get arrested for attempted murder?