Dad nodded, shifting to grasp my shoulder. “You’re a good man, Lucas. And I’m proud of you. Of the man you’ve become. Just know what you’re worth and give your love to the people who will give theirs back to you.”
He turned, taking a bite of his cookie as he walked away. And I hoped against hope that I knew what I was doing.
17
Fudge Ripple
TESS
I’d barely slept in days, and I’d never been happier.
We’d been in full beast mode, prepping the store for the magazine editor—a new photo corner, some new hanging displays using fresh flowers to replace the dried ones, a rearranging of the furniture to include more tin buckets for our market bouquets. Luke had even refinished a beautiful hutch that we’d stuffed with curios and potted plants.
None of us had stopped moving, and today would be no different. But despite my exhaustion, I bounced out of bed, ready to tackle my insurmountable list with the determination to surmount it.
The house was a wreck of supplies and half-finished projects, though the renovation was finally coming together. I could see the light, the finish close enough to envision. And Luke had done exactly what he’d said—he’d kept Mom present. An accent wall of her ugly, old wallpaper, bracketed by simple, modern curtains that stretched floor to ceiling, the effect making the wallpaper look vintage rather than dated. The cabinets still held the familiarity of what they’d once been, spruced up with a coat of fresh white paint and new hardware. A new couch and TV stand—an antique sideboard from the shop’s storage—had updated the whole feel of the place, but we’d kept the old rug, tying her back in with a thread that ran throughout the whole house.
I found Dad eating a bowl of Cheerios in the early morning light.
“Mornin’” he said around a full mouth. “Get any rest?”
“A little. We’ve got a big day today, but I’m not tired. Isn’t it strange?”
He chuckled. “Passion will do that to you.”
I smiled, thinking about Luke. “Funny how things change,” I mused. “I never thought I’d enjoy it so much.”
“It’s easier to see, the older you get, the more seasons you endure. Everything is temporary, no matter how we try to fight it. But when we embrace the change, lean into it, the easier it is to endure. And the more fun it can be.”
“Wise words.”
“Another perk of surviving those seasons.” He took another bite of his cereal. “How’s it going with Luke?”
The question was thick with meaning. I hadn’t told Dad about Luke and me yet, and with a deep breath, I decided now was as good a time as any. “Good, Daddy. Real good.” I took a seat next to him. “I’m afraid I was wrong about him after all.”
The corner of his lips flicked up in a half-smile. “You don’t say?”
“I know,” I said on a laugh. “He’s been … well, he’s been everything the shop needed. Everything I needed.”
“It’s about time you bit the bullet and told me. I’ve been waiting for that for weeks, ever since you came home, all googly about him tapping you to do the windows.”
“Hey, I never said we were seeing each other,” I teased.
He gave me a look. “Please, Pigeon. You think I don’t know when you’re seeing somebody?” A derisive laugh. “I’ve watched that boy puppy-dog after you for weeks, and I’ve been talking to Matilda about the promise you made to be wild.” He nodded to Mom’s monstrous ivy plant. “I’m glad you took a chance on him, Tess. And seeing you happy is the most I could have asked for. It’s all I want for you.”
I covered his hand with mine. “I’ve been happy,” I argued softly.
“There’s content, and there’s happy. They are not one in the same. And Luke? Well, he makes you happy in ways I’ve never seen. It practically shoots out of your eyeballs.”
I chuckled. “He does. He really does.” But my smile faded. “Wendy just moved back. She showed up at the shop the other day, and … I don’t know, Daddy. It was hard to witness. They have all this history that he and I don’t have.”
“Not just history, Tess. Baggage, and a moving truck full of it. I get the feeling Luke’s not interested in her in any context. Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong,” I conceded even though the worry still scratched at my heart. “But she’s unpredictable. And Luke doesn’t know why she came back. I just … what if he goes back to her? What if she tells me something I don’t want to know? Or tries to come between us? What if—”
“You can’t live your life on what-ifs. You just can’t. If I’d known I’d lose my legs, I don’t know how I would have been brave. If your mother had known what would happen to her, she would have lived her entire life in fear, trying to figure out how to fight it. She wouldn’t have lived, Tess. And neither can you, not if you devote yourself to your fear.” He paused, turning his hand under mine to thread our fingers together. “Let me give you a little fatherly advice. Have faith. In yourself and your ability to adapt, to shift if something comes your way. In Luke, to be honest and to care for your heart. Has he ever given you a reason for anything less?”
“No.”
“Then that’s that, Pigeon. I know telling you not to worry is like telling a giraffe to stop having spots, but just remind yourself to have faith. You’re already equipped to handle whatever life throws at you. Don’t waste your time planning for a disaster that might not ever come.”
I sighed, venting the pressure in my chest. “All right, Daddy.”
He smiled, squeezing my hand before letting it go. “Now, go get to your list. I know you’re already checking things off in your head.”
“You know me well,” I said, kissing his head. "Text me if you need me,” I called over my shoulder as I headed for the door, knowing full well he wouldn’t.
“You got it,” he called back.
And then I was bounding down the stairs, full as I’d ever been on faith.
LUKE
We hadn’t stopped moving for six hours.
Not as we moved from project to project, Ivy working her ass off in the back to keep up with orders while Tess and I made our way around the store. We’d hung up a few of the vertical succulent crates, built out frames for our next installation. Ate cold pizza in rounds—Tess ate as she directed me, and I ate as she fiddled with the floral wall, checking the water levels, pulling and replacing what needed freshening up.
I’d spent the last hour in storage, focused wholly on assembling a display piece made out of a dozen triangles that Tess wanted to plant with ferns and moss. When it was finished, I headed out of storage looking for her.
I found her digging determinedly through the buckets of flowers on one of the tables. Ivy watched her with concern.
Her hair was a little wild, worked loose in tendrils around her face, which was tight, brows furrowed. A huff left her, noisy and impatient as she moved to the next bucket.