Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

5. Declan

5

DECLAN

S he didn’t return to the counter, which was perhaps the ninth or tenth clue I’d royally fucked up this interaction. Instead, she stood behind Elizabeth, her back pressed to the glass of a floral chiller, her hands bent at the elbow and tucked tightly behind her as if she wanted to cross them over her chest but knew she should not.

It would be easy to overlook her beauty, to be distracted by her frumpy clothes or lopsided bun, but she was beautiful. Her top lip curled into a perfect pink cupid’s bow, but my eyes were drawn to the spot where she chewed at her bottom lip. Watching the point of her canine as it dug into the pink flesh, I was filled with a desire to press my lips to the spot. It was a crazy thought—the kind from a past life, during the years I’d dated around. I wasn’t settled down, per se, but nor was I running around, kissing random women. Random women who seemed to dislike me.

Ethan stood, and my eyes shot back to him, the first they’d left Hannah in a while, I realized. Max mirrored his father’s stance, although he didn’t look up from whatever game was on his phone, and Ellie, still holding a fistful of flowers, gave Elizabeth a hug, beaming. Then we filed out, first Ellie, then Ethan pushing the stroller which contained the now napping Cora, then Max, and finally me. I glanced back toward Hannah, giving her a small wave as I walked out, wishing I had some way to apologize.

She didn’t wave back.