Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

3. Declan

3

DECLAN

S etting down her fork, Ellie glanced at her phone and exclaimed, “Oh! Let’s hurry up and finish, if you don’t mind. I have to stop over at Elizabeth Whittaker’s by 1:00.”

I put my napkin on my plate, done anyway.“Elizabeth Whittaker?”

“She’s our florist,” Ethan responded with a playful eye roll that suggested he found Ellie’s obsession with the wedding more charming than annoying. I reached for the check as the waitress came, but Ethan swatted me away. “Let’s not do this. I’ll pay today because, as you may have noticed, my fiancée and son are bottomless. You can pay if it’s just the two of us—or three of us,” he corrected, touching Cora’s little button nose. “Sound good?” Ethan asked.

“Sounds fair,” I agreed, since I had noticed the remarkable amount of food both Max and Ellie had consumed during breakfast. I let my eyes drift to Cora, who was situated at the corner of the table between Ethan and me and had spent the duration of the breakfast dropping an assortment of food items on my leg. “Are we going to have lunch sometime, pretty girl?” I asked, and the baby smiled, showing off two bottom teeth. She was cute, maybe even cute enough to help me get over my general dislike for babies, although I’d prefer she sit slightly farther away next time. I puffed out my cheeks and she began to giggle, laughing even as a flow of white liquid poured from one side of mouth. “Guys—she’s…throwing up?” Her bib appeared to be catching most of it, but I scooted my leg out of the way, just in case.

Ellie leaned over with a towel from her bag and swiped the phlegmy looking substance from the baby to the best of her ability. I inched farther away, hoping to be subtle. “She’s a spitter,” Ellie said pleasantly as she threw the towel back in the bag and picked up both bag and baby in a single motion.

We left the restaurant and went a block down the same busy road. The shop, Elizabeth Whittaker Floral and Events , was tucked away under the L tracks, and I surely wouldn’t have noticed the small window of flower arrangements had I been on my own.

The inside was small but clearly exclusive. I had the feeling Ethan was sparing no expense on this wedding, a thought that made me uncomfortable.

We were greeted by a pretty, willowy woman who was put together immaculately in a belted dress, her legs stretching miles and ending in high-heeled boots. Her shoulder-length, wavy hair was pinned in a way that looked effortless but, in my experience with women like this, actually took an hour. She smiled a practiced smile, but I thought I noticed her eyes twitch down my form. I ran my hand through my sandy curls and smiled widely at her. She was probably in her early twenties—a bit younger than me—but it wasn’t like I was looking for anything long term.

My eyes were pulled away as Elizabeth Whittaker came out. An older woman, she was sophisticated and beautiful. In fact, she reminded me of my mother, who happened to be the California State Representative for an area north of San Francisco. Elizabeth Whittaker was as high-end as the brand she was cultivating, and her appearance only served to highlight that.

In sharp contrast to Elizabeth’s sophistication was the woman walking behind her carrying a bucketful of flowers. While Elizabeth’s look was sleek and immaculate, this woman was neither. She had a very pretty face, although it was a little hard to appreciate under scruffy eyebrows and a bun the size of two fists balanced on top of her head. She wore no make-up, and I couldn’t help but think of an ex-girlfriend who wore make-up to bed every night so I would never have to see her natural face. That was how she put it— have to see— as if I wanted a girlfriend who thought she needed to be obscured under layers of makeup to be presentable. This scruffy woman seemed to have no such concerns. She looked like she belonged wrist-deep in dirt tending organic flowers—flowers suckers like my brother would pay the price of a small car for.

Ethan and Ellie didn’t give the woman much thought, and she settled behind the counter with an assortment of blooms, looking as if she’d been made to blend into the scenery. And yet, despite that, my eye was drawn to her over and over as Elizabeth went through her final plans with my brother and Ellie. In fairness, Elizabeth was quite boring. The couple—mostly Ellie—seemed riveted by her description of flowers and bouquets, but I didn’t care. There would be flora. It would surely be pretty, and it would just as surely die almost immediately after. There wasn’t much more I needed to know.

So finally, out of either curiosity or boredom, I stood up and walked to the back of the room, where the woman was deftly trimming and grouping flowers, waiting to be waved over with each new bloom.

“I’m Declan,” I said, smiling at her as I leaned casually on the counter where she worked. Her eyes ticked up in my direction—big and brown and full of an emotion I couldn’t quite identify—then she returned to her work.