Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

10. Declan

10

DECLAN

W hen Hannah came back with Elizabeth, I was worried I’d blown everything. Not that I knew what “everything” was. Regardless, it was clear Elizabeth had been furious with Hannah for dismissing me, and Hannah was furious with me for making what she saw as unreasonable demands. To be fair, while I’d known barging into a closed establishment was rude, I had no idea their business only made flowers for big events.

As we began working though, and Hannah became occupied with the art she was creating, her anger seemed to ebb. Currently, she was deeply involved sketching on an iPad. She was deft in her movements, having obviously made many sketches before, even if she was only an assistant.I was peering at the screen upside-down, but even at that angle I could see the sketch she was developing was going to be beautiful.

And yet, over and over, my eyes were drawn away from the sketch and up to Hannah’s face. Her curls were pinned back today, which allowed me a better view. From where I stood I could see her furrowed brow, her long lashes where they fanned over her cheeks, and the way she bit her tongue as she worked or chewed her lip when she paused to consider what she had drawn. It was mesmerizing .

I couldn’t lay a finger on what intrigued me about Hannah. She was unquestionably beautiful and talented, but so were many women I’d been with in the past. Why was there something about this particular woman I couldn’t get out of my head? I didn’t know, but something about her made me want to seek her out again and again.

She looked up suddenly, shifting the iPad so I was looking at it right side up. Although Hannah hadn’t struck me as an overconfident person, she looked entirely sure of her sketch, and for good reason. It was breathtaking. I didn’t know which flowers were which, but I could see how the colors and textures played off of each other. It was exactly the kind of arrangement any mother would love.

Any mother except my mother, who said flowers gave her allergies.

But I’d never intended to send it to my mother, it’d really just been an excuse to come back to Whittaker Floral. Now, having seen what she was capable of creating, I looked forward to the final product. I wanted it for my own. “It’s lovely,” I responded earnestly, looking up to meet her eyes.

Hannah made an expression that was either excitement or terror, then bent quickly, pulling out flowers and placing them in front of me. “We can make any changes you want,” she said quickly. “Here are the flowers I used in the sketch, it’ll give you a better idea of what each part will look like. I paired the soft pinks of the Renaissance roses with these more mellow greens and silvers.” Her voice began to slow naturally the more she talked, until she sounded almost calm as she continued, “Ellie—Miss Kingston—mentioned your mother was a Congresswoman, and I guessed that meant she was more sophisticated and would appreciate the more subdued color palette, although we could always go a brighter route if she’d prefer.” Her hand reached for a bright yellow flower, but I stilled her with a touch to her wrist. I could feel her pulse thundering away under my fingers, and I was glad she had no way of knowing my heart was inexplicably beating out of my chest as well.

I let go of her, smiling crookedly as I shrugged. “Don’t change anything. This sketch is perfect, Hannah. ”

For an instant, her face lit up, and then, as if she realized she looked too excited, she schooled her features into something more neutral. This new expression perfectly mimicked Elizabeth’s cool demeanor, but even with my limited knowledge of Hannah I knew it was fake. I doubted Hannah had an iota of elegant neutrality in her, and that was fine with me. Maybe that was part of the appeal—someone completely different from my mother. I pushed the thought aside—something to talk to my therapist about next teleconference—because this was simple. I liked that Hannah wore her emotions on her face—the beaming smile and the irritated scowl popped up the moment she felt them. It was real and lovely and I wanted to see more—I wanted to make her smile again.

But it was too late, because the smile was gone, and her expression was utterly unreadable. “I need to make it,” Hannah said slowly when I didn’t move, and I realized she expected me to leave. “If you want to give me the address we’ll deliver it for you.”

I hadn’t thought this plan through. Walking up I thought it might be funny to send my mother a floral arrangement, even knowing she didn’t like them, but I didn’t want to send her Hannah’s arrangement. It was too beautiful to waste on provoking the ire of a woman who was constantly disappointed in me. “She lives in California,” I explained.

These words, at the very least, got rid of Hannah’s neutral face. She grimaced almost comically and looked behind her, as if she expected Elizabeth to pop out from behind the curtain. “Elizabeth mentioned that, yes,” she said slowly. “But we’re not able to ship cross-country. The arrangement would never survive. If there’s something we could do for you locally…” She glanced back again, but Elizabeth hadn’t materialized and didn’t appear to be any time soon.

“My mother’s still here,” I lied, “for the wedding. If you could make it today, I could give it to her. I can wait while you make it.” It was a good enough lie that I felt equal parts proud and ashamed of it, and the words made Hannah brighten for an instant before she frowned again .

“Declan, we’re not talking about ten minutes. This will take more than an hour.”

My name on her lips made me smile inexplicably. I’d heard the word a hundred-thousand times in my life, and yet I would’ve happily listened to her say it a hundred-thousand more. “If you want to work out here, I’ll keep you company,” I suggested.

For close to thirty seconds, Hannah stood silently. Expressions flitted over her face, one after the next, wiped clean each time she remembered she was supposed to be professional. I probably should’ve given her an out and left, but when I did, it was possible—no, probable—I’d never see Hannah again, and I simply wasn’t ready for that yet.

Finally, she spoke. “I have to go get my supplies.” She turned and walked through the curtain, returning with a handful of items before going back again. She made the trip multiple times, returning each time with her arms full. I offered to help, but she declined. Finally, when it seemed she might have brought every tool and flower from the back, she pulled up a nearby bench to sit and look over her things.

“This was clearly an incredible imposition. I’m really sorry,” I said.

“It’s no big deal,” she replied, though I assumed that was a lie to be polite. She didn’t look up from arranging her tools.

“I didn’t even ask if it would bother you to chat,” I said, the guilt settling in. “Maybe you need to focus.”

Finally, she looked up. “I usually listen to music, but I’ve made plenty of arrangements while talking to people, so I’ll be fine, but thank you. There’s a stool just there, if you want.” She nodded to a spot a little behind me, and I pulled the stool up to my side of the counter.

Despite her words, I stayed quiet, letting her get started in peace. It was interesting work, watching her slice each little stem in exactly the right place. “You said you’ve been doing this for what? Six years?” I asked.

“Mmmhmm. I got a job at the student center when college first started, but Matty insisted we’d make better money working for her mom. At first we only worked in the summer, but it was a good job and it paid way better than the student center, so I tried to make a class schedule that would give me more time here.”

“You obviously like it.”

“I love it,” she agreed.

“And you’re obviously really good at it,” I added. Hannah shrugged, and I felt like I’d accidentally touched on her sore spot, so I fell quiet again.

It was Hannah who spoke next, and her words caught me off-guard. “So, are you close to your mother?”

“No.” It was an honest answer, but I hadn’t meant for it to pop out. I looked down at the greenery as Hannah clipped, struggling to explain myself. “She’s not the warm and fuzzy type…and we live on opposite sides of the country.” But it hadn’t always been as strained as it was now. “We were closer when I was younger, I guess.”

“That’s common, I think. Chicago and California are pretty far.”

“And I don’t even live in Chicago. I live in New York. My job just brought me here for the summer.”

She glanced up for a second, giving me the shortest glimpse of her expression—which I swore was disappointment—but perhaps I was projecting. “I didn’t realize,” she said quietly. “Can I ask—” She hesitated, saying no more.

“Anything,” I offered honestly.

She shook her head slightly. “Sometimes a question is better left unasked.”

Until this moment, I’d agreed with that sentiment completely, but suddenly I didn’t care. I wanted to know Hannah and I wanted Hannah to know me. It was inexplicable, but it was fact. “Not today. I made you move what appears to be every tool in the shop to this table and now you’re working out here instead by yourself listening to…”

“Modest Mouse, lately,” she replied.

“Listening to Modest Mouse,” I repeated. “So, at the very least, you’ve earned the right to ask me anything you wish.”

A small smile quirked up one side of her lips, and while it wasn’t big, I felt like I’d achieved something great. “If you don’t get along with your mother, why send the flowers? Is it, like, a peace offering?”

Excellent question. What were the point of these flowers, Declan? I didn’t want to keep lying to Hannah, but I also didn’t feel like I could tell the whole truth. “I don’t know, Hannah. I thought of it, and it felt like the right idea…” I swallowed hard as the cold truth hit me. I’d had this idea without considering how it would impose on Hannah. It was her right not to want to spend time with me, to never want to see me again, even. Instead I’d trapped her at work, a place she couldn’t say no.

I was an ass.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but Hannah beat me to the punch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I have a habit of asking any dumb question that pops into my head, and now I went made things awkward, so how about this? Next time you’re feeling badly about your adult relationship with your mom, remember, it could be worse. My mom's in a cult."

Her words left me dumbstruck, my mouth slightly agape, trying to decide how to respond. She glanced up from her arranging and laughed. The sound was beautiful and musical, and I felt the tension in my shoulders unwind.

“No one ever knows what to say to that,” she said, still smiling.

I wanted to be different, to have something insightful to say, but every time I opened my mouth to reply I bit my tongue. That’s too bad , seemed trite, and returning to my intended apology might look like I was trying to change the subject.

Undeterred, Hannah continued, “When I was a kid we lived in a community.” She shrugged half-heartedly. “A commune, I guess, most people call it. I left when I moved away to college.”

“Do you get to see her much?” I asked.

Hannah didn’t look up from her work, but I saw her forehead furrow. “My mom? She feels I’ve turned away from her religion, and that means she can’t have a relationship with me anymore.” Her voice was level and calm, but she sighed wistfully before looking up and glancing behind her quickly. “Which is probably not something you share with a client,” she added, leaning her forehead into her palm.

I could feel the embarrassment radiating off of her, and I had to say something that would make her feel better, so I chose the unfiltered truth. “I think my mom is disappointed in me,” I admitted, my stomach turning uncomfortably at having said it aloud.

Hannah looked up, her head cocking to one side adorably. “Goodness, why?”

I laughed dryly. “I don’t know. What would she be if not disappointed? For years she didn’t like what Ethan was doing. Now he’s got kids and suddenly can do no wrong, so I’m the fuck-up. ‘ Deck gave up his good job for baseball nonsense,’ ‘Why did we even pay for an Ivy League education, Declan?’ ‘Why aren’t you married, Deck?’ ‘Declan, when will you have kids?’ ” I imitated.

Hannah was still working, and the arrangement was beginning to take shape. She sighed. “Hate to break it to you, Deck, but if all that’s true I don’t think these flowers will fix it.”

Her gaze was soft and empathetic, and I liked the way my nickname tumbled easily from her lips. It was insane how much I already liked this woman. I waved a hand to brush away her worries. “I’m twenty-eight. I can’t make my decisions based on what makes my mom happy. The best I can do is what makes me happy, so I guess I’ll send my condolences to her via really gorgeous flower arrangements.” I grinned at Hannah and she laughed.

A minute went by in companionable silence, and then a question popped into my head. “What were you studying? In college? Before you ended up doing this?”

“Environmental science. I got my degree,” she added. “I’ve just never used it. How about you? I have to be honest, the first time I heard the MLB mentioned, I had no idea what that meant. Obviously I’ve heard of Major League Baseball, I’ve just never met anyone who worked for them. Did you used to play?”

I laughed. Hard. Hard enough that, at one point, I had to clutch my stomach. “No, certainly not,” I choked out finally, looking forward to sharing this story with Ethan. As kids he was the far better baseball player, and he’d be appalled to hear Hannah’s misunderstanding.

Unfortunately, I realized Hannah was frowning, and I worried I’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just spectacular that you would even think I could play baseball. It’s the best compliment I’ve gotten all day, and I can’t wait to annoy my brother with it.”

She was still frowning, and I hoped she didn’t think I was making fun of her. “So, what? You just go to games?” she asked.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Pretty much. I went to Spring Training and now I’ll be going to a bunch of the Cubs and Sox games to develop social media posts and press releases on behalf of MLB. Mostly Cubs games, honestly, because of their compound. It’s pretty spectacular.”

“I’ve never been to a baseball game, but I guess that sounds like a fun job.”

I grabbed at my chest and tipped over theatrically, nearly falling off of my stool. “You’ve never been to a game? That’s heartbreaking. You must. I insist.”

She shrugged.

“I’m sending you tickets,” I informed her.

“Declan, no. They’ll be wasted on me. I don’t care about sports.”

“That just means you need to learn about them.”

“I understand baseball well enough. Strike, ball, hit, four bases. What more do you really need to know?”

I was grimacing, shaking my head in dismay. “It sounds like a medical procedure the way you describe it. Like a colonoscopy or something. No wonder you don’t like it. I could teach you. Like, right now, the Cubs are making these big changes to their bullpen. They used to?—”

“Oh my god, stop,” she groaned. “If your description of the Cubs puts me to sleep it’ll ruin your arrangement.”

I rolled my eyes and looked around. “How many people work here, anyway?”

“Eight,” she responded distractedly, then looked up. “Nine, actually, if you count Elizabeth. I never do. ”

She looked like she was nearly done with the arrangement, and, as before, she was varying between biting the tip of her tongue while she worked and biting her lip as she surveyed the results. I leaned my chin on my palm, watching her. Neither of us talked as she repeated this process over and over. Work, survey, and work some more. Finally, she looked up and smiled largely. “Whaddya’ think?”

The flowers were a work of art, but it was the girl I didn’t want to take my eyes off. “Looks amazing.”

She made a face, shaking her head as if I were a disobedient child. “Come over and see it from all the angles. Smell it, too. It’s all important.”

I stood from my stool and circled the table, pacing around it until we were shoulder to shoulder on her side. She placed a hand on one tricep, pushing me slightly. “You’re forgetting to smell,” she whispered. Resisting the urge to flex under her touch, I bent forward and inhaled, my eyes closed, taking in the soft perfume of flowers. I wondered if Hannah’s skin and hair would smell like that after a day of work.

“Where are you staying?” she asked, and my heart nearly thudded to a stop as my mind filled with images of Hannah in my hotel room. “I mean,” she stammered, “are you staying with your mother?”

“I stayed at my brother’s place last week, and then I thought about moving into The Drake, but I ended getting a room at Hotel Zachary instead, because staying in the Cubs’ compound seemed like it would help my work.”

“I can send it to your mother. Did you say she was at The Drake?”

I shook my head quickly. “Let me take it,” I offered. “It’s too beautiful. I’m not done admiring it just yet.”