“It was June, after all, still bridal season. When I saw Austin’s green delivery van pull up to the curb at two that afternoon, I locked up the studio and strolled over to the florist’s shop. He was wearing navy cargo shorts and a green and white Fleur Flower Arts logo shirt, and he was picking up the phone when I walked in. Austin glanced up, blew me a kiss, then started writing things down on an order pad. The shop was a mess, the concrete floor littered with bits of white satin ribbon, lace, ...leaves, stems, and fallen petals, and the aisles were jammed with flowers; buckets of freesias, orange blossoms, stocks, hydrangeas, lilies, roses, daisies, and exotics whose names I didn’t know. Their perfume swirled around me. It was a happy, busy, exciting place, and a sharp aching wave of sorrow hit me so hard it almost knocked me back out the door. He hung up the phone. “What?” he asked, a look of concern on his face. “What’s the matter, Keeley?” No good trying to make a happy face.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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