“The search is over,” I teased, spreading my arms in display.
She didn’t even look up, never mind laugh. “There was an orchid in one of these buckets, and I can’t find it.”
I frowned. “An orchid?”
“Yes, and I need it.”
I stepped up to the buckets and dug alongside her. “And what’s so urgent that it hinges on this particular orchid?”
“I’m working on the bouquet that I’m going to pretend to work on when the editor comes in tomorrow, and I need that orchid!” She dove into the next bucket, too frantic to really see anything. “It’s on my list, and I can’t move to the next task until I find this orchid and put it where it belongs.”
In three steps, I was in front of her, having wedged myself between her and the table.
She glared up at me. “Luke, what are you doing?”
“Getting you out of here,” I answered, steering her toward the door.
“But I need that orchid!” she sputtered over her shoulder.
“Ivy will find it. Right, Ivy?”
“On it!” she called after us.
“See? She’s on it.”
Tess’s lips flattened defiantly, digging in her heels like she could stop me, which was adorable. Her feet skipped as I kept walking.
“Luke, if I’m going to get all this done, I need to stay on schedule. I can’t leave!”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
At that, I actually did stop, turning her to face me. “Tess, the world will not grind to a halt if you don’t find that orchid.”
“But—”
“What’d I tell you about buts?”
“No buts,” she grumbled.
“We are leaving here, right now. We are going to get ice cream and walk to the park because you need to remember that a whole world is happening outside of this shop, all day, every day. You know, we have a saying among waiters—Burgers and fries, nobody dies.”
That earned me a hint of a smile and the smallest laugh ever known to man.
“This isn’t brain surgery, Tess. It’s a flower shop. We will get it all done, and it’ll get done on time even if we have to stay all night to do it. It’s not like we won’t be here anyway,” I said with a meaningful look.
One that softened her. I felt her relax when she sighed. “Fine. Ice cream and the park, but no lallygagging, okay?”
“Okay,” I said with a smirk. “Are you going to come willingly, or do I need to throw you over my shoulder?”
Her eyes flicked to the ceiling, but she laughed. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
We headed out of the store, and though she didn’t hesitate, I watched her gaze dart around the room, cataloging things she needed to do.
“Salted butterscotch or mint brownie?” I asked to distract her, pushing the door open.
Her roaming eyes found mine, stilling them so I could get her out of the store. “Hmm … butterscotch. It’s too hot for chocolate.”
“Is that a thing?”
Her brow rose. “Have you ever seen what happens to chocolate when it’s hot?”
“That doesn’t apply to ice cream. That’s gonna melt whether it’s hot out or not.”
“It’s heavy and thick, too thick for this kind of heat.”
“It’s ice cream, Tess. Its sole purpose is to cool you off.”
But she shrugged. “Butterscotch today, hands down. In a sugar cone. And you’re gonna get … dreamsicle. Waffle cone. With white chocolate sprinkles.”
I laughed. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve been accused of being predictable.”
“Trust me, you’re not. I just pay attention to things like that … my brain is full of all kinds of useless information like it. Regarding your ice cream preferences, you like dreamsicle when you’re overwhelmed. Cherry chunk when you’re happy—sugar cone. Fudge ripple when you’re down or stressed.”
“Huh. That’s true, and I didn’t even know it.”
“I mean, not that you’re down much. But you got fudge ripple with me after my mom died. And the day Wendy came back.”
I sobered. “I’m still sorry for that.”
“And you still have no reason to be. It’s okay, Luke. I trust you. I’m just sorry you have to deal with the uncertainty. That would drive me nuts. I’d probably go looking for a confrontation just to have some sort of resolution.”
“Confrontations with Wendy don’t typically end well. Broken furniture or stitches maybe, but the fallout usually isn’t worth the price paid.”
We walked in silence for a moment, the heat beating down on us. It was oppressive, the weight of it. The weight of Wendy between us.
“She’s always been like this?”
“As long as I’ve known her. But she didn’t show it until after we were married. And then … well, she was my wife. I wanted to help her, take care of her. It just never got better. She would try for a while, but inevitably, it’d fall apart again. Mom likes to remind me I’m not responsible for her, but that’s not how it feels. It feels like I’m the only one who can be responsible for her, including herself. How do you walk away from that? How do you turn your back on someone who can’t help themselves, knowing you’re the only one who can?”
“I don’t know,” she answered softly. “I don’t know that I could either, not when you put it like that. But … well, at the same time, I hate her for what she did to you. For hurting you.”
“Join the crowd. What nobody gets is that she can’t help it.”
Tess glanced at me.
“I know it sounds naive, but I mean it. I think I’m the only one who knows her. When you live with someone like that for so long, you know what’s real and what isn’t. Everything she feels, she feels it with all of her. Good or bad, high or low. She loved me, but she slept with another man. And I just couldn’t get past that.”
“Do you miss her?”
I paused, feeling guilty for knowing the answer was no, not able to lie and say yes. “Wendy isn’t who I thought she was when I married her. I love her in the way you love a person for having endured something with them. But the truth is that our relationship wasn’t built on trust or respect. It was built on fear and guilt. And that’s not the kind of love I want.”
“It’s not the kind you deserve. You are too generous, too giving for a love that takes so much.”
I reached for her hand, smiling down at her. “What happened to me being a lazy, selfish player?”
“I was wrong,” she said with adoration on her face and a smile on her lips, a smile that I kissed away before pulling open the door to the ice cream shop.
We ordered our cones and headed back outside, turning for the park. I did my best not to watch her lick her cone like a perv, I swear. I failed miserably.
“Can you believe,” she said around licks, “that you’ve been working at the shop all day, every day for weeks, and you haven’t even gotten a rash or broken out in hives or anything?”
I laughed, glad to note that Tess couldn’t quit watching my mouth either. “I know. I mean, we’ll see how I feel in five months, but it’s been good. I think because, even though I’m in the same place, every day is different. There’s always something new to do, a new project to work on, a new problem to solve. It hasn’t once felt like work, you know? Not like being a bank teller. I lasted one day. One.”