Wallflower (Whittaker Floral #2)

11. Hannah

11

HANNAH

I t had been easier to hate Declan Andrews than it was to realize he might be likable. He was on my mind the rest of the day and into the night, and he was one of my first thoughts in the morning.

By Friday I was mentally exhausted from thinking about Declan, and I was thankful we were slammed this weekend, because being overloaded at the shop was my current top strategy for getting him off my mind.

Although we had no events even remotely near the scale of the Andrews wedding, this week we had four smaller events to organize—a benefit on Friday, two small weddings on Saturday, and a spring function Sunday morning. We did big all the time, but we didn’t usually do numerous . Our limited staff was stretching almost to a breaking point to make it all happen, withElizabeth and Matty doing the on-site design.

Fortunately, the bulk of the preparations for the Friday night benefit were done by this point so they could be loaded into the van in the afternoon, and I set myself to work finishing arrangements for the two weddings tomorrow. Matty was working next to me, sharing the space since all hands were on deck. “I went on a date last night,” she said, grinning widely at me .

Matty was a stunning woman—one of those irritating long-limbed, porcelain-skinned, thin-without-trying women that you wanted to hate, but Matty wasn’t at all hatable. That’s not to say she was entirely likable, either. Matty was dark-humored and sarcastic—not everyone’s taste—but I loved her more than anyone else on earth. We understood each other, even though we were night and day different. I, for example, was perpetually single while Matty was a perpetual bachelorette. If you think those two are similar, hang around Matty for a while and you’ll get to hear about her numerous sexcapades with hot men. My stories were full of far more reality television and good books.

Whereas I’d grown up in a community where we all worked the land and shared resources, Matty had grown up watching her mother develop Whittaker Floral. She’d studied business in college and had every intention of taking over Elizabeth’s studio at some point. As it was, she did most of the office work for the business. Matty’s unyielding personality demanded a person show some amount of passion or drive or she simply could not find common ground.

I tended to pour myself into the few subjects I found appealing. In college it was environmental science and slowly it had morphed into floristry. Matty liked that about me immediately.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

She shrugged one shoulder, her face twisting a bit, “Meh. Great looking—I think we’ll go on another date because, oh my God , but I’m not sure there’s really much there, you know?”

“What’s he do? For a job, I mean.”

“He’s a lawyer. Really into his work, which is cool, but apparently not into much else, because he was boring as hell,” she replied. I scrunched up my nose in distaste. “But what about you? Mom said the brother from the Andrews wedding was back in here this week, looking pretty interested in you.”

I hadn’t decided whether or not to discuss my sudden and disturbing interest in Deck with Matty, but I felt a hot blush creep up my neck that I was positive would not go unnoticed. “She said that? Did she also mention she threatened to fire me? ”

“She did, actually. Said you were giving him a hard time. What’s with you?” Matty cocked her head, scrutinizing me as if the answer may be evident on my face.

“Nothing’s wrong with me, Matty. He barged in when we were closed and demanded a flower arrangement for his mother.” I raised my brow with a case-closed kind of look.

Matty shrugged in a way that said she was willing to dismiss his actions entirely. “He probably didn’t know we were closed or that we only do events. You should cut him some slack.”

“Do you think?” I asked, and Matty’s head tipped slightly further, as if those three words had revealed far more than I’d anticipated.

“You like him?”

“I think he might be a horrible, overprivileged douche,” I replied, which didn’t actually answer her question, because I seemed to like him in spite of that.

She was quiet for a minute while she trimmed stems, tucking them neatly into the arrangement she was building. “She said he stuck around half the afternoon. Did he act like an overprivileged douche?”

“He wanted me to work out front and finish before he left.” I waited patiently for the indignant outrage I expected from my best friend. “I mean, that’s pretty demanding, come on,” I prompted when she said nothing.

Not only had she failed to produce the indignation I’d hoped, but now her eyes were lit up like a kid in a candy store. “He watched you work all afternoon? Did you two talk?”

“Sure, a little. About our families.”

She scrunched her eyes tightly closed, then opened just the right one. The expression had the effect of a grimace, which was probably not accidental. “Did you tell him about your mom?” she asked.

“I mentioned it, yes,” I mumbled, becoming very busy with my arrangement and not making eye-contact with Matty.

“Dear God, Hannah,” she laughed. “I will never understand what possesses you, but I would say this means you like him. ”

I opened my mouth to disagree, but I never lied to Matty, and I wasn’t going to start today. “Maybe, but I don’t think I should.”

Matty set down the floral knife she held, looking at me seriously. “There’s nothing wrong with dating a guy who may be rich…or overprivileged…or even kind of douchey.”

I shot her a skeptical look, but continued working.

“I’m serious, Han. Go out a few times—enjoy yourself—just don’t get too serious. Those guys are short-term guys.”

That sounded like the kind of thing Matty could do, but I wasn’t sure short-term thinking was a possibility for me.

“Are you seeing him again?” she asked.

“No, I don’t think so. We didn’t exchange numbers or anything.” I made a face as a new horror occurred to me. “Maybe I’ve been thinking about him for days and he was just a regular client with no interest in me. Maybe my imagination finally got the best of me.”

“Impossible,” Matty said dismissively.

I caught her eye, lowering my voice to a whisper I was sure only she could hear, even in the small space. “But he’s really out of my league, Matty. Yesterday I tried to look at YouTube just to see how you should put on basic makeup and the tutorial I found—the one that didn’t look like a Kardashian—needed twenty-three products I didn’t own. I grew up in a community and he grew up with a congresswoman mom and a…I don’t know what his dad does, but something really rich, I’m sure.”

“His dad is a real estate mogul of some sort,” Matty said, shrugging apologetically when my eyes went wide and my head fell back. “Ellie mentioned it.”

“Of course he’s in real estate,” I responded flatly.

Matty’s eyes narrowed. “Listen, Hannah. I’m only going to do this one time. You get one freebie because I love you and I mostly respect you.” I rolled my eyes, but Matty continued, “but seriously, I’m not doing this twice because if you need it a million times it just becomes sad and thirsty.”

I put down my knife and crossed my arms over my chest, but didn’t respond .

“You are really beautiful. I’ve known you for eight years and up until this surprise haircut you were styling yourself like an exhibit at the Field Museum.” She paused here, as if shooting me a you-know-it’s-true look would make the assessment less offensive. “And because you’re beautiful, men still stared at you anytime we went out.”

“Men are staring at you , Matty,” I corrected her.

“Of course they are,” she replied, a tiny flutter of eyelashes the only indication of her quick rolling eyes. “I take care of myself and I look good, but they’ve been looking at you, too, and now you’ve done this great haircut and the eyebrows—praise Jesus, the eyebrows,” she said, lifting both hands in the air and shaking them. I jabbed her in the gut and she grunted, lowering her arms with a dark grin and continuing, “—and I’m happy to show you some basic makeup that certainly isn’t hard. But that’s not the point. The point is you’re beautiful and you’re a better florist than I am—which means you’re super talented—and you can date an Andrews or even a damn Rockefeller if you want. So stop it.”

“Thank you,” I said quietly, although it was hard to believe that was really true. It wasn’t something you argued about, though, so instead we let the comfortable silence settle over us as we both resumed working.

“Matty?” I said finally, a few minutes later, and she looked up. “I’d like to learn about makeup a little. My mom didn’t believe in it, you know, so I just never learned. I don’t know why I want to learn all of a sudden. It’s not just Declan. I think I’ve just been feeling good since the haircut.”

I was babbling—and blushing—but her lips curled up at one corner, and she said, “Yeah, Hannah, it feels good to look good. Of course I’ll help you.”

Three hours later, the delivery van was packed and ready to take the flowers to tonight’s event. We were nearing the end of our work day when Julia came to get me. “Hannah, there’s a guy here for you.” My heart skipped a beat. Had Declan come back to see me? Matty looked at me with big eyes and we both walked to the front of the shop.

There was a man standing just inside our studio door, but he certainly wasn’t Declan Andrews.He was thin with short hair and a long beard, and he wore a tight T-shirt, rolled-up jeans, Vans shoes, and a bag slung across one shoulder tightly. “Hannah Jackson?” he asked, looking between Matty and me for clarification.

I reached out a hand to take the manilla envelope he held, but he didn’t close the distance to hand it to me. “Who are you?” I asked.

He pointed to his clipboard with its MessengerFAST logo, then looked back at us, as if this were explanation enough. “Hannah Jackson?” he repeated, still holding the envelope tightly.

Matty closed her eyes for a second, clearly annoyed, then stepped forward and took the envelope from his hand. She passed it to me. The man seemed unperturbed as he held out the clipboard for me to sign then walked out the door, climbing on his bike. “What is it?” Matty asked curiously, turning back to look at me.

The envelope simply had my name and the shop’s name on it, giving no indication of who’d sent it. I pulled apart the clasp that held the flap closed and ripped open the seal. Inside was a note and a second smaller envelope.I read the note.

Hannah,

I cannot thank you enough for the arrangement. I know I made you open up the shop to make something you don’t even typically make, and I really appreciate your patience. The flowers were spectacular, and I hope I can say thank you by showing you a little baseball. There should be enough tickets here for everyone. They’re for Monday’s game, which—if Google is to be believed—is a day you’re closed.

Sincerely,

Deck

“Hannah!” Matty snapped impatiently. “What does it say?”

I handed her the letter and watched her face as she read it. Her expression shifted from interest to excitement over the course of the short note, and when she looked back up at me her golden eyes were wide and sparkling. “Looks like we’re going to a baseball game, Hannah.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know, Matty. I’m not even a baseball fan, and these are probably just tickets he gets free to give away.”

She frowned deeply. “Sometimes I just want to kick you, Hannah. Like, right in the shin, kick you.”

I took her threat—or complaint or whatever it was—as a warning to stop overthinking the invite, and I shrugged, conceding.“Okay. Looks like we’re all invited to a Cubs game. We should tell everyone before they leave.”

I had never been to a Cubs game—or any professional sporting event, actually. Each of my companions oohed and ahhed as we were ushered to the IDEAL Suite level and taken into a small room labeled only “55.” The room was not overly large, but there was space enough for chairs and tables inside. The front wall was all windows, and a door led to a private viewing deck with two rows of traditional stadium seats. As I got closer, I could see we overlooked the line between first base and home plate.

Almost immediately after our arrival, a waitress arrived, explaining beer and soda were free, but hard alcohol would have an additional cost. I was stunned by the whole thing. You didn’t have to have experience at baseball games to know food and beer weren’t typically included. At the back of the room, a wide spread of fruits, salads, and hot dogs were elegantly laid out on a long peninsula. I wondered vaguely if I’d have to leave to get Cracker Jacks or if the waitress could bring me some.

Julia grabbed hold of my arm as I walked by. “Omegahd, Hannah! I remember the brother who was with the Andrews when they came in for final review. Did he seriously send you all these tickets? Did you two already know each other? Are you dating? He was handsome. Are you so excited?” She leaned forward, her eyes alight, and I inhaled deeply. Time and time again I’d told Matty we should give Julia a chance. She was, after all, incredibly sweet. Moments like this, though, when she was peppering me with exuberant questions like an interrogator on speed, I remembered why I never pushed too hard to become close to Julia.

Elizabeth stepped in to rescue me. “Hannah did exceptional work for Mr. Andrews and it’s not at all surprising that we’re here now. I agree it is a lovely work outing, so thank you, Hannah. I’m going to go sit outside. I think the National Anthem is about to start.” Elizabeth walked out and Bitty joined her, with Adelaide and Emma close behind. I looked around the place again. Clem and Jane were chatting in the back, probably enjoying their free food and beer more than the baseball that was about to occur. My eyes drifted up to a large television set, which was broadcasting a woman heading out to sing the National Anthem.

Matty leaned in closer.“Do you think he gets this as part of the job?”

“I don’t know. I guess, right? It’s a little much. Have I mentioned that he may be too…” I waved my hands around me, at a loss for words but indicating my extravagant surroundings. Then I pressed my fingers against my eyebrows, rubbing at my forehead and eyes as I often did when I was stressed. I rotated my fingers up, sliding along my browline and into my temples.

“Dammit, Hannah, don’t touch your eyes,” Matty hissed at me. “I know you don’t usually wear makeup, so you’re in the habit of rubbing your eyes all the time, but you had me put makeup on you today and it’ll be all over your face if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” I said, feeling scolded like a small child. I pressed my hands into my pockets.

Matty came to my apartment early this morning and showed me a very quick and basic makeup regimen.It only took six new products and two brushes, all of which she dragged me out to the store to buy because her porcelain skin was significantly lighter than mine.

Afterwards, I’d looked in the mirror and thought that I didn’t look much different, but all my features, especially my eyes, stood out a little more, which seemed worth the five or ten minutes it would take to do each day, because more and more I was growing to like my brown eyes.

Matty also gleefully volunteered to stand in my tiny bedroom and pooh-pooh my wardrobe as I tried to get dressed for the day.With her help, I settled on a pair of tight jeans, a black T-shirt, and a fitted, mustard-yellow, polka-dotted sweater in case it got cold. She then voiced her complaints regarding the state of my shoe collection—I was only half listening, but the words “Herman Munster” and “soccer mom” were uttered—before settling on a pair of light blue Chuck Taylors. I looked in the mirror and thought I looked surprisingly good. My legs were long in the tight jeans—more like how I thought of Matty’s legs—and the shirt definitely showed off my ample bosom without revealing tons of cleavage, which would’ve made me uncomfortable. Maybe cleavage was a necessity for landing a date with someone like Declan Andrews, but I wasn’t going to completely change for a man, particularly a man like Declan. I still hadn’t decided if I should be going on a date with him in the first place.

Matty and I watched the game out on the private patio with Elizabeth and Bitty while the other women milled in and out. The free drinks and food were fun, and I was already two beers and a hotdog in. I tried to follow the game, but found I would absentmindedly forget to turn myself to actually face the batter, so I mostly paid attention to first and second base, the signage, the Jumbotron, and the various people around us. I was having fun though, and I was deeply engrossed when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It felt too big and warm and perfect to belong to any of my co-workers.

Declan looped around the seats and came to rest in the empty seat next to me. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“It’s fun. Thank you so much for this.”

He looked at me skeptically, then surprised me by reaching across my body and placing a gentle hand over my eyes. “What’s the score?” he asked.

I didn’t know what the score was, but with his hand covering my eyes I wasn’t sure I could’ve remembered my own birthday, let alone a baseball score. It even smelled good. “I have no idea, but to be entirely honest, you could uncover my eyes and it’ll still take me a good sixty seconds to figure out, I think. There are a million numbers on that big green sign.”

He laughed, dropping his hand. “Hannah, it says the score in ten other places, at least.” He began pointing around the field at various scoreboards, which, admittedly, seemed obvious once I knew where they were. I nodded, feeling the creeping embarrassment once more, but the feeling was short-circuited when he slapped a hand gently on my knee. “Come take a walk with me. I’ll show you around.”

He stood, but for a single second I hesitated, not sure if I should follow. Next to me, Matty jabbed me in the ribs, shooting me a face I read easily to mean get the hell up. In fairness, while taking a walk with Declan sounded intimidating, the idea of moving our interaction away from the watchful eyes of my coworkers sounded spectacular. The eight women I worked with were extraordinarily talented, but not one was an actress. It was clear as day they were all watching Declan’s every move and my every reply. I stood up and gave a small, lame wave back towards Matty. She grinned widely in reply.