Fourteen

FOURTEEN

Dahlia

I need today off. Is that alright?

Aunt G.

Of course, it is. It's *your* garden.

You know what I mean, Aunt G.

Take all the time you need, Dahlia. I understand.

" O rder for Dahlia?" The barista set a cup on the edge of the counter. "Cinnamon latte, no foam?"

"That's me," I said, cutting through the small crowd. I picked it up and made my way outside.

I was trying to do something different today, trying to see if I could go one day without crying over my mother or thinking about Everett.

I'd failed miserably, of course, but I was progressing.

Stepping into the nearby grocery store, I strolled to the magazine aisle, determined to drown myself in celebrity gossip.

"Dahlia?" a familiar soft voice said from my left.

I didn't look over.

"Dahlia, is that you?" The woman moved closer, and I shook my head.

"It's not me," I said. "You're confusing me with someone else."

"I don't think so…" Everett's mother gently cupped my face and turned me toward her.

Then she looked into my eyes.

"I promised my son I wouldn't bother you outside Blooms and Letters, but I'm here for you whenever you need me, okay?"

I nodded, and she pulled me into a hug.

"I wish he was marrying you instead," she whispered. "He belongs with you, Dahlia."

Her words broke me—triggering soft sobs, and she held me close for what felt like forever.

Before I knew it, she was driving me home.