Nip it in the Bud (Bunch-A-Blooms 3)

She snickers. “A bit of both?”

I laugh. “Still waters certainly run deep. He seems so reserved most of the time.”

“I know. Don’t believe the face he presents to the world. I’m still working on loosening him up some more.”

The sweet smile that appears on her lips is adorable, and the inner light making her skin look downright luminous is undeniable. She’s truly happy. Her business is booming, and she’s found the love of her life. After the struggle she had to the top, I’m overjoyed for her. Owning your own business is tough, but when you have a Y chromosome, it’s even tougher. You have to demand respect, guard your dreams, and let the wagging tongues go in one ear and out the other. At least here in the Midwest where people were still stuck in an era long gone by. Conservative and traditional, the older generation were having a hard time grasping how much things had changed.

In the past ten years, the entire face of downtown had been drastically altered. New, hip businesses line the clean and well-maintained streets, and new and interesting places are popping up left and right. Cincinnati had crept up into the top ten affordable places to live like a thief in the night. Never in a million years could anyone have predicted the growth and development waiting around the corner.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, O.”

She smiles. “I think so, too.”

I lean forward in the bright orange plastic chair that looks like it came from the seventies with its thin silver legs and curved shape. The décor is a mixture of modern and vintage. The white brick accent walls and the black and white photo collaged back wall mesh well with the bright pops of color from the red vinyl booths and brightly colored plastic chairs paired with silver tables. I toy with the empty wooden beer carriers that house the condiments.

“This place is amazing,” I remark.

“I know. I wish we’d had spots like these when we were in our twenties.”

“Man, we weren’t down here then,” I say.

“Not at night at least. Nothing good was happening downtown after the sunset back then.”

“Right? Now the rent is sky high. Funny how things change.” I can’t help but think about the different paths we’re taking.

“Speaking of change, what happened with the cutie from the bar?”

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours. I haven’t talked to him.”

“Yet. I saw his face … trust me. He’s going to call you,” Olive states.

“Maybe.”

“What are we talking about?” Petunia asks, appearing to my right.

My eyebrows shoot up as I take in her appearance.

“I’m pretty sure we should be the hungover one,” I say as she takes a seat beside O. Her hair has been slicked back into a low hanging ponytail, and her skin looks washed out.

“About that.”

“Oh my God—”

“You’re pregnant,” I whisper, finishing Olive’s sentence.

She chuckles. “Yeah, I am.”

“Why didn’t you tell us last night?” Olive squeaks.

“I wasn’t one-hundred percent. We took the test first thing this morning.”

“Congratulations, Mommy,” I say, awed. Finally, someone in my close circle was entering parenthood. Holy crap.

“Thank you. We’re super excited.”

“What are you doing here? You should be celebrating with him,” Olive says.

“No, I wanted to have this last weekend with you guys. Soon, I’ll be more than just Petunia or even Petunia, Mason’s wife. I’m going to be Petunia the baby vessel. I’ve seen it happen enough to know how it’ll go. This allows me to have those last fleeting moment of selfishness.”