Page 11 of Bloom

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Her hand lands on my wrist, stilling my movements. “You didn’t waste my time.”

I lock eyes with her. I know kindness when I see it. “I put you in a bad position last night. I’m sorry about that.”

“Not bad,” she corrects me with a lift of her brow. “Awkward. It was awkward, but there was a bright side to it.”

Curiosity draws my brows up too. “I don’t see a bright side.”

“For me.” She taps a finger to her chest. “Not you.”

“Ouch.” I fight back a smile. “That hurt.”

She drops the jagged piece of glass in her hand. “Oh no. I didn’t mean that.”

A pink flush floods her cheeks. Studying her face, I realize that she’s not wearing much makeup. I’m far from an expert, but it looks like a coat of mascara and a dab of something shiny on her lips.

“What did you mean?” I question back.

“I connected with some potential new customers last night.” She tugs on the sweater, sliding it back up her shoulder. “One at the photo studio and another at your office.”

She must be talking about Audrey, but I don’t know if the other person is Wren. I won’t ask. I’ve never chased after a woman once a relationship is over.

Why waste my time on someone who wants me to go to hell?

Wren’s words in her note were crystal clear. I don’t exist to her anymore, so I’ll move on. Simple.

Picking up a piece of glass, I toss it into the wastebasket. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Biting the corner of her lip, she looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened to you last night.”

I can tell the sentiment is genuine, so I take it that way. “Thank you.”

We finish cleaning the glass in silence. Once she’s swept up the area, she turns to face me. “I’m still a little confused about why you came all the way down here so early in the morning. If it was to apologize, that’s not necessary.”

I don’t know where the words come from, but I let them roll off my tongue. “I need another bouquet.”

Her eyes widen. “For Wren? The bouquet I left with you last night should still be fine. The flowers haven’t died, have they? They were all fresh when I put the arrangement together.”

“I gave that bouquet to my neighbor.”

“Your neighbor?”

“She’s ten.” I lean my hip against the table. “Her face lit up like it was Christmas Day.”

Her expression softens. “That was kind of you.”

“Her parents have been good to me,” I admit. “They feed me when I forget to feed myself.”

This conversation is unexpected, but it’s so damn easy. I haven’t felt this comfortable with anyone in a hell of a long time.

“I’d like to stop by later today and pick up something with roses for my mom.” I point at a bucket of yellow roses in the display cooler behind her. “Yellow roses and throw in a few other flowers.”

Athena glances back over her shoulder. “Is it her birthday?”

“Not today.” I tug my wallet out of my back pocket. “I just want to surprise her.”

“It’s a sunshine bouquet,” she says matter-of-factly.

Crossing my arms, I take the bait. “A sunshine bouquet? What’s that?”


Tags: Deborah Bladon Romance