Seventeen
I wrap my hand around a stray weed and yank it out of the dirt, using so much force I actually fall back on my heels. Righting myself, I toss the discarded stem into my trash pile and move on to the next one. Unfortunately, I apparently take too good care of the brownstone’s backyard garden, because hardly any weeds remain, and I need to take my anger out on something.
Maybe not anger. Frustration. Exhaustion. Anxiety. I’m bone-weary and full of self-doubt.
The store is mostly ready and everything is coming together, but the past couple of weeks have been the hardest of my life. I spent more time than I’d like to admit sitting on the floor in the center of the shop, head in my hands, tears pouring down my face.
I thought the recent success of Bridge and Blooms had prepared me for running my own business, but trying to open a storefront has been about a million times harder than I thought it’d be. I’m so, so tired. And I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know why I ever thought I could do it.
I yank off my gardening gloves and shove my hands into the cold soil. The dirt clumps around my fingers, and the smell of earth fills my nose, grounding me. I close my eyes and force myself to take three long breaths.
Pushing up off the ground, I shake my hands clean and collapse into a patio chair. The dirt stuck under my nails is a welcome departure from the manicured perfection I felt I needed to maintain at my old job, but as the store gets closer to its official opening, I can’t help but wonder if I made a mistake leaving behind a stable industry for the huge risk that is Bridge and Blooms.
It’s chilly outside, but the weeding has warmed me. I know I have a to-do list as long as my arm, but I can’t make myself stand and go inside, the comfort of being outside in the garden like a cozy blanket wrapping around me.
A mug appears in front of my face.
“You doing all right?” Jack drops into the chair next to me.
I take a small sip of my latte, knowing the appearance of being okay is more important right now than the coffee. “I’m fine.”
“Tell me what I can do to help, Sade. Put me to work.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got it all under control.” My grip on the mug tightens, my knuckles bearing the brunt of my tension.
Jack leans forward. “It’s okay if you don’t, you know.”
“It’s not, actually. I don’t have time to not have everything under control because my store opens in a matter of days, and I somehow roped one of my best friends into investing a huge chunk of money into a business that hasn’t been around nearly long enough to justify such a ridiculous amount of money and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be out of business in a year, and then Bridge and Blooms will be a total bust and I’ll have to try to find a job in finance so I can be miserable for the rest of my life, and I knew I wasn’t ready for this.” I set my mug on the table and lean forward, letting my head fall between my knees and forcing myself to take deep breaths. “I was stupid to think I’d end up anywhere other than failure.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his warm palm lands on my back, rubbing slow, calming circles.
Eventually, I sit up and Jack’s hand drifts down to take mine in his. “Can I actually do this, Jack?”
He scoots his chair closer to mine, squeezing my hand. “I can’t answer that for you, sweet pea. Self-doubt is normal when you’re taking on something new.” He places a soft kiss on my lips. “I believe you can do this, but you have to believe too.”
I nod. “I think I just need to sit out here by myself for a little bit.”
“Okay.” He stands and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “You know where to find me.”
Once he’s back inside, I wrap my hands around my mug, letting the warmth soothe me from the outside in.
It’s tempting to throw in the towel now. Quit before I really have the chance to fail. Nick would lose all his money, but it’s not like he doesn’t have enough to fall back on.
I stare into my latte for a long time, looking for answers in the swirls of milk.
After several minutes, I look over at the garden beds. It’s midwinter, so everything is dead at the moment, but even without the blooms of the flowers, I’m proud of the space I created back here, taking an overgrown monstrosity and turning it into something beautiful.
It’s a little sliver of proof that I can do this. I can make something from nothing.
Bridge and Blooms can be just like this garden, only on a larger scale.
I gulp down the now-cold dregs of my latte, gather up the weeds, and toss them in the trash. Back in the house, I plant a kiss on Jack’s cheek before bounding up the stairs to BaBs to get back to work.
Jack carefully unloads his paintings from one of my delivery wagons bright and early Saturday morning, one week before the launch party for Bridge and Blooms, and two days before I officially begin to operate the business from the shop. Each canvas is bubble-wrapped within an inch of its life, which I thought was a little excessive given the whole five-minute walk, but he insisted. He’s generously handing over the three paintings he’s completed of my arrangements to go along with my Christmas painting, which will hang centered behind the cash register.
“I really wish you’d let me pay you for these.” I take each one as he unwraps it, setting them carefully on the long wooden counter where I’ll be doing most of my arranging.
He gives me an eye-roll/push-the-glasses-up-his-nose combo. “Where else would these hang? They were made to go in this space.”
“Yeah, but this is like hours and hours of your work, and I’m just taking it.” I examine the first one he completed, still marveling at the detail he captured.
“You’re not taking it, I’m giving it to you.” He unwraps my Christmas gift, now officially titled Bridge and Blooms, as if he were handling the Titanic Heart of the Ocean diamond. “And I wouldn’t even be painting if it weren’t for you. So a couple small canvases is the least I could do.”
I let him lay the canvas on the front counter before wrapping my arms around him. “I still can’t quite believe this is all happening.”
“It’s not simply happening, sweet pea. You made it happen.” He kisses my forehead.
I tilt my head up for a deeper kiss. Between my regular orders, trying to get the store ready, and squeezing in one bar shift a week, there hasn’t been a lot of time for the two of us over the past few weeks. And, Jack being Jack, he never complains, never makes me feel guilty. He’s waiting for me every night when I get home, on the rare nights he doesn’t come to the store with me to walk me back to the brownstone. It’s like I dreamed up this super-perfect boyfriend and he just popped into existence.
“Oh my god, I did not sign up for this.” Gemma’s voice breaks apart our kiss.
I grin at Jack, planting one more kiss on him before stepping out of his embrace. “Yeah yeah.”
She holds up a bag. “I brought doughnuts and everything.”
I wrap her in a tight hug, holding on for way longer than I know she wants. “You’re the best.”
She riffles around in the bag, handing me a maple bar and taking a sprinkled one for herself, before hopping up onto the end of the counter.
Handing Jack an old-fashioned, I lean my butt up against the counter where Gem sits. “I’m glad you got here early, actually, because I wanted to ask you something.”
“No, I will not participate in a threesome. At least not with you.” She gives me a wink and a grin.
“Good to know, but not what I was going to ask.” I lick a drop of frosting from my doughnut. “How would you feel about catering the launch party? Nothing big, just a couple of passed apps and maybe a charcuterie display?”
She picks a sprinkle off her doughnut but doesn’t say anything.
“I’d pay you, obviously, and I just thought it might be kind of a good test run, you know?” I was confident she’d jump at the chance, but she looks so miserable I can’t stop myself from throwing my arm around her shoulder. “Okay, no worries, I can totally find someone else. I’m sorry I asked, Gem. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She gently removes herself from my embrace. “I’m not upset with you, Sade. I’m mad at myself.”
Jack gives me a worried look and slowly starts to move toward the office in the back, motioning in a very not-subtle way that he’ll give us some space.
Once he’s cleared the room, I move so I’m standing right in front of her. “Why are you mad at yourself?”
“How do I count the ways? I’m twenty-eight and in a job I despise and everyone in my life is happy and successful and I still can’t decide what the fuck I want to do.” She tosses her doughnut back in the bag, even though it’s half-eaten.
“Gemma, god, where do I start? One, you say ‘twenty-eight’ like it’s eighty, which I refuse to accept, as I’m two months older than you. Two, hello, I was literally you less than a year ago.” I throw my arms wide open. “And look where I’ve ended up after also hating my job and having no idea what I wanted to do.”
“You did know what you wanted to do, Sade, and you did it. That’s the difference.”
“Cut out this pity-party bullshit right the fuck now. You can do it too. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and you work your ass off, Gem. Not to brag or anything, but my launch party is going to kill it on social media, and you’re going to do the catering because the worst thing that can happen is you hate it and never want to do it again and so you don’t. And the best thing is everyone at the party wants to hire you to do their own party.” I pull her off the counter and drag her to the other side of the room, where I left my planning notebook, opening it to the party page. “Here’s your budget. I trust you to make it awesome, so I’ll send you the money and you can do whatever you want.”
She looks over my notes, her darting eyes doing nothing to hide her nerves. “What if I ruin your party?”
“You won’t. I know you. You won’t let yourself let me down.” I take her face in my hands and plant a loud kiss on her cheek. “We good?”
“I could do those bacon-wrapped scallops you love, if I can find a good deal.” She takes out her phone, snapping a picture of my notebook page. “And maybe some pot stickers.”
“Yes. Love it. Sounds amazing.” I turn toward the back. “Jack, you can come out now! Let’s get these paintings hung!”
He peeks his head out of the office, half a doughnut stuck in his mouth. “I’m actually going to wait for Nick before I hang anything. It’s much easier with a tall person to assist.”
“You rang?” Nick pushes open the door to the shop, holding it for Harley, who’s carrying a tray of coffees.
God, I love my friends.
Harley sets down the tray, then immediately moves along the counter to where Jack’s paintings are lying in wait. “Holy shit.” She turns to Jack, her mouth dropped open. “You painted these?”
Jack, who was in the middle of some secret-handshake bro dance with Nick, shoves his hands in his pockets. “Oh yeah. I did.”
“If you think those are good, get a load of this one.” I gesture for the three of them to come look at Bridge and Blooms.
There’s a solid minute of silence as they all take it in.
“What the fuck, bro?” Nick punches Jack in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. “Why didn’t you tell us you could do this?”
He shrugs, his cheeks reddening as he shrinks into himself. “I couldn’t really. Not for a long time anyway.”
They all three turn to stare at him, and he might as well be a turtle retreating into his shell.
I lace my fingers through his, tucking myself into his side. “Jack did a lot of painting when he was younger, but he stopped for a while after his parents died.”
“Well, you should be selling this shit.” Gemma doesn’t do canned pity, and I’ve never been more grateful for it.
Jack gives her a timid smile. “It’s not really about the money these days.”
His word choice snags something in my brain for a minute, but I shrug it off. “And you know me, happy to capitalize on the free labor of you unfortunate souls who are stuck loving me.” I rise on my toes and plant a kiss on his cheek. “Speaking of. Talk less. Work more.”
Various things are thrown in my general direction, but everyone gets to work. Paintings are hung, supplies organized, décor put in place. Lucy, my new employee, joins us for a couple of hours. She’s in her late thirties, and for a minute, I worry our antics will annoy her, but she fits right in, giving as good a ribbing as she gets. By the end of Saturday, Bridge and Blooms looks just about complete. You know, minus the blooms.
We all bundle up in our coats and scarves before heading out, the January weather having turned bitterly cold over the past two weeks.
I lock the front door after everyone has exited the building, then loop my arm through Jack’s as we head to dinner. “I can’t believe tomorrow I get to go to work in my store.”
“Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?” Jack leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head.
“Once or twice.” I snuggle deeper into his side, needing the warmth and reveling in the comfort. “Have you thought any more about selling some of your paintings? I think the reaction from the gang only further cements my claim that a shit-ton of people are going to want them once they see them in the store.” I tilt my head up so I can see his eyes.
And if it weren’t already dark outside and limiting my visibility, I would swear there’s a flash of something like panic darting through the bright green.
But Jack just shrugs. “I’ve never wanted to sell my paintings before. It’s not about money for me.”
“I’m totally happy to be your art pimp if you need me to.”
He chuckles. “I think you mean my art dealer.”
“No. Art pimp. That will be my official title or no deal.”
We arrive at the restaurant, and Jack holds the door open for me. “You’re something else, sweet pea.”
“That’s why you love me, Jackpot.”
“That I do.”
The final week before the launch party is a haze of activity and emotions. There’s still work to be done in the store itself, namely setting up window displays and filling the place with flowers, all while fulfilling my orders for the week. But it’s quite a rush to head to the store each morning, working on arrangements from the long counter in the center of the shop, making the space really feel like my own. It’s going to be quite some time before the seeds currently baking in the greenhouse in BaBs will be producing actual blooms, so for now I’m sourcing everything from as many local farms as possible. I also spend a fair amount of time during the week scavenging for vessels that can be repurposed. There will be no short square clear vases in my house. Unless I happen to find one discarded on the street; then I’m totally taking it.
Lucy works with me throughout the week, learning how to arrange, but also figuring out the ordering system and working on the logistics of deliveries. I’m still not quite comfortable taking on large events, but we go ahead and schedule some consultations for smaller parties, and hopefully those will give me enough experience to grow my confidence. I find a super-cute old bistro table at a flea market, and I set it up in the back corner of the shop specifically for client design meetings.
Gemma has checked in approximately eight million times over the week, clearing menu items with me, asking if I’m totally sure I trust her, and sending me photos of her test runs. Which really is just mean, because I don’t get to actually eat any of those said test runs. I know she’s going to be great, and I hope the night gives her the boost she needs.
And Jack. Really, what more can I say about Jack? Have I mentioned how he’s the absolute perfect boyfriend? Honestly, if I had a thought to spare, I’d probably be freaking the fuck out, because there’s no way a man this good will want to stick around for the likes of me. But luckily, I don’t have time for those kinds of thoughts. I just allow him to take care of me in a way no one has ever truly taken care of me before. And I’m too distracted to let myself sabotage this thing between us.
The Friday night before the party, I make myself head home early, knowing I’m going to need a full eight hours of sleep or else I’ll be a monster on launch day. Who am I kidding? I’m going to be a monster no matter how much sleep I get, just to varying degrees based on restfulness and coffee consumption.
Jack has wine open and Chinese food on the way when I get home, giving me enough time to shower and change into my pajamas before we eat cross-legged on the basement sofa, hours of backlogged Bravo shows playing on the TV.
When I fall asleep during an epic Ramona/Sonja blowout, Jack knows it’s time to cart my ass off to bed. He tucks us both under the covers, kisses me good night, and falls right asleep because of course he does. Seriously. Bastard.
Despite my bone-deep exhaustion, I can’t seem to make my eyes stay closed, and I stare up at the ceiling, picturing all the millions of things that could go wrong tomorrow.
Finally, I force myself to turn on my side, ceiling be damned. I push myself into Jack’s space, nuzzling my cheek against his bare chest.
His arms automatically encircle me, his voice sleepy and gruff. “You okay?”
“Can’t sleep.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, instantly calming me. “Everything’s going to be perfect, sweet pea. You’ve planned every last detail.”
“What if no one shows up?” I trace light circles along his stomach, needing my fingers to do something.
“I’ll be there. And so will your friends. And so will lots of other people.” He cups my cheek in his hand and pulls my lips up to his. “It’s going to be amazing, Sade,” he murmurs against my mouth, before deepening the kiss, pulling me into him.
I sigh into him, his mouth providing a wondrous distraction. “Hey.” I break the kiss. “I know what you’re doing, mister.”
He moves his lips down to my jaw, nibbling until I expose my neck for him. “I’m just trying to take your mind off things.”
“You think you can sex me into not worrying about tomorrow?” I wedge my leg in between his, delighting as he hardens against me.
“No, but I think we might as well try.” He wraps his arms around my waist, rolling me over so I’m on top of him.
He releases me, giving me just enough space to shuck my shirt, leaving me in a tiny pair of cotton panties. Jack’s fingers trace over the curve of my breasts before he sits up, me in his lap straddling him. His tongue flickers over one nipple and then the other, before he takes it in his mouth, sucking and nipping until my hips are rocking over his cock, hard beneath me.
His hands cup my ass, raising me up until I’m standing on the bed. He slides my panties down my legs, holding me steady while I step out of them. Once my feet are firmly planted on the mattress, his hands slide back to my ass, guiding me closer to his mouth. He gives me a wicked smile before his tongue darts out to tease me, licking softly and slowly.
I look down, watching as his mouth devours me, and it’s quite possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My first orgasm rocks through me a minute later, and Jack eases me down to his lap. He falls back on the pillows, lifting his hips so I can remove his pajama pants. I run my tongue over his hard length, licking him from base to tip, but he hooks his hands under my arms and pulls me up, settling himself at my entrance and slowly pushing into me.
Once I’m fully seated, Jack tucks his hands behind his head, giving me a very un-Jack-like cocky grin. “Ride me, sweet pea.”
“Fuck, Jack. Why is that so hot?” My hands dig into his chest, leveraging my weight as I slowly rock over him.
“You like being in charge, Sade. This is not new information.” He grins teasingly, but his eyes darken as he watches me roll and swivel my hips, and I know he’s enjoying this just as much as I am.
And he can’t keep his hands off me for long. One travels to my breasts, caressing and pinching my nipples, while the other slides between our bodies, stroking me until I’m so tight with tension I can barely move. But with a few more thrusts, that tension boils over and I tighten around him as I cry out.
He sits up then, his arms wrapping around me, his lips finding mine as he pumps into me several more times before finally grunting out his own release.
He kisses me softly until we both fully come down, his hands stroking my bare back until I’m 100 percent zombie-brained, gummy-limbs relaxed.
Jack lowers me onto the pillows, bringing the covers up under my chin. He tucks himself behind me, his front spooning my back, his arm draped around my waist. “No matter what happens tomorrow or next week or in a month or in a year, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Sadie Green.” He places a soft kiss on my bare shoulder.
I turn around to return the sentiment, but he’s already fallen asleep.
Bastard.