“Azaleas,” she whispered, looking deep in thought. Her legs carried her to the far end of the store. I followed her, spellbound. The couple choosing wedding flowers followed me. I turned around to stop them, holding a hand up.
“That’s it for you, Mr. and Mrs. Peepson.”
“But I want to know how it ends,” the woman whined.
“Spoiler alert: I get the girl. Move along now.”
I caught up with Madison standing in front of a bunch of blooming pink, red, and purple azaleas. Her eyes shone.
“They like cool, humid spaces and are considered to be almost impossible to make bloom. They’ll be a headache to keep alive in New York in August. The task is nearly undoable. Only one in eleven azalea plants survives. I remember my dad hated keeping azaleas in their shop. He listed all the reasons why his customers needed to choose another flower when men bought them for their wives.” Pause. “But my mom . . .” She trailed off. “They were her favorite. So every Friday, no matter what, rain or shine, he brought her azaleas.”
“I’ll keep my azaleas alive,” I clipped.
She tore her gaze from the flowers, frowning at me. “How do I know you won’t task your housekeeper with keeping them? Or hire a gardener?”
“Because I’m not an immoral bastard,” I said simply. She gave me a disbelieving look. I supposed she had a point.
“I won’t be an immoral bastard about this,” I amended, and I let her pick two plants of her choosing. We walked to the cashier. Mad asked for a Sharpie, told me to turn around, and marked both plants in a way that would make her recognize them in case I got a replacement. I would ask her where the trust was, but considering everything we’d gone through together, I guessed the answer to that question was the bottom of a fucking trash can. There was no trust between us whatsoever.
I paid for the flowers, then told the cashier to put whatever the nosy couple ordered for their wedding on my tab. Madison stared at me like I’d lost my mind. I shrugged. “I’ll see your Martyr Maddie and raise you Charity Chase with a side of Blissful Black.”
She laughed. I wasn’t ready for that laugh. It came out throaty and genuine, her eyes crinkling at the corners. My dick wasn’t the first responder this time around. It was another organ. One that had sat dormant for years. One that had no business waking up.
“Afraid I’m going to beat your little boyfriend at his own flower game?” I raised an eyebrow, all nonchalant and shit.
“He is not my boyfr—” she started, then clapped her mouth shut. I flashed her a smile full of triumph.
It was on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MADDIE
November 15, 2004
Dear Maddie,
I wanted to thank you for being the best daughter in the world. Yesterday, I felt sick all day and didn’t go to work. You went to help your father in the shop even though you had an important test the next day, and when you came back, you brought a bouquet of azaleas with you. My favorite (you remembered. You always do).
You told me you ate the petals secretly. They tasted like sweet nectar, you said. We pressed them into books in my bed, watching Steel Magnolias and drinking sweetened tea. The flower made me feel loved. I hope one day they’ll make you feel the same too.
Love,
To the moon and back,
Mom. x
I gave the azaleas to Ethan when we met for coffee. (Tea, he amended in a text message. Coffee is highly unhealthy. I’ll send you an article.) Instead of relaying my bet with Chase, which I thought was rude and presumptuous, I simply explained that the flowers meant a lot to me and gave them to him as a gift. Azaleas were Mom’s favorite flowers, I explained, and they required special attention and a lot of care, but in return, their bloom was breathtakingly beautiful.
“They’re a lot of work, but they’re worth it.”
“Reminds me of someone.” He took a sip of his green tea, his smile stretching across his face like a wound. He looked different. Tired. I couldn’t help but suspect I had a lot to do with it.
Since Ethan didn’t know about the bet, which was a clear disadvantage, I balanced it out by printing out specific instructions of how to take care of the azaleas. Ethan shoved the plant and instructions under our table, before ordering a gluten-free pastry and launching into a speech about how he’d been invited to talk at a conference about children who suffered from anxiety. I immediately thought about Katie. How she’d be interested in listening to this lecture.
Then I thought about the moronic mistake I’d made the other day, when I’d forgotten she was privy to my waiting for Chase on his birthday and had basically blown up our cover to the sky.