Sometimes they did. Sometimes guys and flowers went together really well. Juliet couldn’t help but think of Ryan with that purple aster behind his ear. The way he’d smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling up. The thought of it made her chest ache.
Confusing didn’t begin to cover it. Her feelings were all over the place. Thank God for this wedding – it had given her the perfect excuse to work late all week, and ask Melanie Drewer to help her with Poppy. It also helped her to avoid seeing the guy next door.
It was better that way. She didn’t need to open herself up to any more hurt, not after everything she and Poppy had been through. Best to keep away for a while, until things had settled down.
And she’d forgotten just how good his mouth had felt on her wrist.
‘Okay, that’s the last one, right? Let me just check we have everything before we head over to the venue.’ They had two hours to get everything ready before the bride was due to arrive. Between her and Lily they had to decorate the seats for the ceremony, and then make sure all the table displays were set up for the wedding dinner. It was so important to make sure everything was perfect.
The bride was depending on her. And so was the shop’s reputation.
‘Everything’s here. I’ve checked it twice.’ Lily looked up from the clipboard, running her finger down the printed order. ‘And Natalie’s arrived to cover the shop while we’re gone.’
‘All right then, let’s do this thing.’ Juliet grabbed the van keys from the hook beneath the counter. ‘Time to make somebody’s special day a perfect one.’
Juliet had been avoiding him all week, or at least that was how it felt. Ryan had found himself missing her at the strangest moments. He told himself it was because he didn’t have many friends. Or maybe it was the fact that Charlie was at yet another sleepover, leaving Ryan with way too much headspace to fill.
And now it was Saturday, and there was still no sign of her. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips, looking over at her bungalow as he swallowed a mouthful. The few times he’d seen her from a distance, she’d been in a rush, too busy to wave, and too busy for him to disturb her.
Yeah, she was definitely avoiding him. Who could blame her?
He still wanted to kick himself for kissing her wrist in the woods. What had he been thinking? Maybe the problem was he ha
dn’t been thinking at all. He might’ve lost the only friend he’d made since he returned to Shaw Haven, and it hurt. Putting his coffee mug back on the low table in front of him, he leaned his head back and took a deep breath of fresh air. How could he make this better? He couldn’t live next door to her and not talk to her. The thought of it made his chest contract.
That’s when he remembered the photo – a candid he’d taken of Charlie and Poppy a few days earlier. In it, the two of them were staring at a picture book they were reading together, their faces crumpled in concentration. Walking into the house, he grabbed it from his dark room, turning it over and uncapping a pen.
London,
I’m not talented enough to make you a bouquet of flowers. But we both made two beautiful children, and I was lucky enough to capture them on camera.
I’m sorry for overstepping the line. It won’t happen again.
Your friend,
Ryan
She wasn’t home – her car was gone from the driveway. And as he’d seen Thomas picking up Poppy yesterday from school, the only place he could imagine she could be on an overcast Saturday morning was at the flower shop. So he propped the photograph against her door and wandered back to the house, prepared to wait as long as it took until she made it home from work.
After lunch he grabbed his laptop and made his way back onto the deck. Placing his steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, he decided to do a little paperwork. There were contracts to sign, banks to deal with. A few emails from his financial adviser about setting up the new business. And then there were the messages from his lawyer, asking him if he really wanted to reject his father’s offer for his shares in the family business. He sorted through them quickly, letting them distract him from the envelope across the yard.
Just before four he heard the crunch of rubber against gravel, as Juliet pulled her car onto the makeshift driveway beside her bungalow. He watched as she climbed out, carrying her usual array of flowers she hadn’t managed to sell in the shop. Her boots clipped her stone steps as she wearily made her way up to her front door. He wondered if it was the empty house that made her sad, or something else entirely.
She paused when she saw the photograph, a small smile forming on her lips as she read the words he’d written on the reverse. Then she turned the photo back again, admiring the picture he’d developed for her, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as she took it in.
She glanced over her shoulder, seeing him staring straight at her, and he was struck yet again by how beautiful she was.
‘Ryan?’ She propped her flowers against the door. Still holding onto the photograph, she walked down the steps, and made her way across the yard towards him. ‘This is a beautiful picture.’
‘I hoped you’d like it.’ He was still sitting down. After last week’s fiasco, he was determined not to crowd her.
She’d reached the bottom of his porch. Her hand curled around the rail, but she came no further up. ‘I like it very much.’ She offered him a tentative smile, and he felt as if he could breathe again. ‘Thank you for thinking of me.’
‘It was the only way I could think of for saying sorry,’ he admitted. ‘I shouldn’t have touched you like that.’
She looked up at him. The expression on her face told him she knew exactly what he was talking about. ‘It’s okay.’ Her chest lifted as she took a deep breath in.
‘No, it wasn’t. I hate that I touched you when you didn’t want me to. I’m not the kind of man who crosses boundaries. I shouldn’t have done it.’