“I love you, too. Forever. Nothing can change that,” she said.
Emotion warbled through the silence that hung in the air, and finally, I cleared my throat, pasted on a smile, and prayed she could sense it from across the miles. “Okay, so I think we’d better plan a meeting. Tomorrow or Thursday? If we’re going to pull this off, we’re going to have to work fast. Do you have a caterer in mind?”
She giggled. “Oh, I have all kinds of things in mind.”
My smile turned genuine.
Because this was what I was born to do.
To watch beauty blossom.
To foster and cultivate it.
And a wedding was the ultimate harvest.
“All right then. Let’s do this.”
* * *
Two days later, I was out in my workshop pruning flowers for a bouquet.
Watching the clock, not sure if I wanted time to speed away or to stand still. If it was the anticipation that was wrecking me or the actual meeting that might kill me dead.
My office and workspace sat at the bottom of the hill from the house, the acres of flowers growing out from behind the old structure that I’d restored.
It had been a broken-down barn that had been turned into a rustic haven where I let my fingers go to work. Where I pruned and pieced and fashioned someone’s sentiment into an expression.
Love.
Sympathy.
Mourning.
Congratulations and well wishes.
The truth was every flower had a story to tell. A wish to impart.
I found so much joy in being a part of it that I almost got lost in my work until the sound of tires crunching on the driveway and the low hum of an engine dragged me from the peace.
Heart lurching, I pulled the gloves from my hands, set them on the workbench, and took a couple steeling breaths before I gathered up my unwieldy emotions, bottled them for later, and slipped out the double wooden doors.
A black Suburban came to a stop in front of the house.
Squinting against the rays of the late afternoon sun, I peered into the distance at the people who climbed out of the extra-long SUV, trying to ignore the raging beat of my heart.
Telling myself it didn’t matter.
That I could handle this, no matter who showed.
I was a big girl and I’d long since moved on.
Right?
Right.
I almost gave myself a little pat on the back for bein’ so mature.
From the front passenger seat, Emily hopped out first.
Goodness, the excitement that blazed from her, so much that it was tweaking a grin at the corner of my mouth.
Melanie climbed out from the rear-passenger behind her, and I felt a buzz of my own excitement after not seeing her for so long.
But it was who followed her out that sent my lurching heart leaping in a shout of joy.
Mabel.
Emily’s mother.
Richard’s mother.
My spirit panged and danced and thrilled.
A song of old affection that raced across the field.
Emily’s fiancé rounded the front of the Suburban and took her hand, and Melanie lifted the seat so another girl who I didn’t recognize could climb out of the very back.
Relief blustered through me when I realized I’d dodged a bullet for a moment more.
Richard wasn’t with them.
They all started down the path, making their way in my direction.
Then that balloon of hope I’d been feeling busted, spitting and sputtering out when I saw the shape of a tall figure show at the rear of the Suburban from where he’d come around from the opposite side.
Hovering and hesitating.
His hands stuffed in his pockets.
Wearing a tight tee that showed off his arms covered in intricate ink. Jeans just as snug. Hair whipping like mad around his rugged face.
The man hard and rough and raw. Like the sweet country boy I’d known had been scraped away by the things that he’d seen. By the years that had passed. By the fame and the money and the glory now tacked to his name.
A dichotomy where his aura danced in between.
It didn’t matter that he was two football fields away.
I could feel the intensity of his stare.
The weight of him crashed through the atmosphere and pressed down on my chest. Saturating my senses.
How on earth was I supposed to handle this? It felt cruel and unjust. Like the world was out to end me. Every fear and hope and wound I’d ever sustained whirred and whipped and rebounded in a bid to annihilate.
All at the same damn time.
One hand wrapped in her fiancé’s, Emily lifted her other, her words carrying on the slight breeze as they made their way down the pathway, “Hey, Violet. Sorry we’re a few minutes late.”
I waved in welcome and tried to make my voice match the feeling. “No worries at all. I was just wrappin’ up prepping for tomorrow.”
“I hope we’re not interrupting.”
“Nope. This is what I do. Besides, you know I wanted to be a part of this.”
It was only half a lie.
Her smile was soft as they made it to the bottom of the hill. The second she got to where I stood, she wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you. Thank you a million times. I am so excited. I can’t even tell you what this means to me.”
I hugged her back and breathed in her sweetness, clinging to the memories of why I’d grown so attached to her. “Oh, you don’t even need to explain. I can feel it radiating from you.”
A thrill traveled her spine, and she pulled away so she could gesture to the man who stood like a guardian at her side.
Oh, was the man intimidating. Different than Richard, though. Screaming of a fast life and big city. Covered in ink.
The man left no question he’d seen a thing or two.
None of that held a smidge of importance, though.
He might look her opposite, like she’d said, but there was no denying the devotion that poured from him. No denying their connection. The man her match. “Violet, I’m so happy for you to officially meet my fiancé. Royce Reed. Royce, this
