Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

NICHOLAS

Everyone knows!

My morning walk through the neighborhood is a gauntlet of curious glances. In the coffee shop, I get a wink from an old friend, and the barista flat out asks me about it, which makes every ear in the establishment perk up.

"No comment," I say cheerfully, heading out the door.

The scrutiny is not at all what I wanted, but as I approach my thirtieth birthday, I'm determined to celebrate my many successes, professional and personal.

Flower Hub is about to open, and I'm not balking. It will be a heavy lift to take the farmer's market stand on a tour of local festivals while managing all my other responsibilities, but I know I can make the payoff worthwhile.

And working myself to the bone seems to help me ignore the other emotions threatening to surge through my soul. The emotions that insist Clay isn't supposed to leave. That this is more than sex, even though more isn't possible.

I scold myself to remember that. I'm going to support Clay and his dream just like he supports me and Blossom.

Nance steps out from the side gate, crossing my path outside the store. She winks and points a finger at me. "Didn't know you had it in you, Nicky. Go get yourself a good time. Clay isn't such a punk after all."

I groan internally because this is way too much like having your aunt compliment your sex life. "Thanks, Nance," I manage. "Gotta go!"

Work isn't any better, although a lot of the nosy people buy flowers in an attempt to look less nosy, so we do make a healthy business as I dodge questions.

It's not until halfway through the afternoon, just after I switch on Never Been Kissed , that Kavya and I are finally alone in a quiet shop for a moment.

Kavya pushes a vase aside. "Is the sex amazing?" she asks immediately.

I laugh. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

She nods. "I figured. I wouldn't have thought you could get happier. But it was like you'd achieved some new level of good spirit. Only explanation was sex."

"Don't pretend you've known the whole time."

"Maybe not the whole time."

She sits at the work counter, and I sit next to her.

"Are you bringing a date to my birthday party?" I ask.

Kavya shakes her head. "No. I'm going stag. I got a floral-print suit. But like, badass black pansies floral."

"Sounds hot."

She shifts her weight. "Yeah. There's a singles party at the lesbian bar later. I'll make a night out of it."

I grin. "Clay is going to be at the birthday party, and everyone is going to know that I'm sleeping with him."

"Are you going to get drunk and suck his face in front of all your friends?"

"No," I say with a laugh. "Gross."

I'm way more affectionate than Clay, but making out in front of everyone is not my style any more than it is his.

Kavya tilts her head to the side. "He's going to take off soon," she says evenly. "How do you feel about that?"

"I've accepted it," I answer, and I hear the edge in my voice. "We've known he was leaving from the start. And Clay isn't interested in having a long-term relationship. He never has been."

"That doesn't mean you have to be fine with it," she points out.

"Sure, it hurts," I admit. "But what we have is this wonderful thing. And it's not over yet. It's still happening, and I love it, and I don't want to ruin the last days that I have wishing it were something different." I realize I'm getting worked up and take a breath to pull myself back together. "I want to have fun with Clay while I can."

Kavya looks skeptical, but nods. "Have fun. I don't see why you can't do that and still tell him how you feel though."

I start to respond and catch myself. "I didn't say I feel any way."

"Didn't have to," she says simply.

"Okay. Maybe I have feelings. And maybe they're gooey. But it would be wrong of me to put them on Clay when I already know he's not available." I shake my head quickly, racing through logic I've already covered a million times.

The door swings open before Kavya can respond, but I can tell she doesn't buy my reasoning.

Increasingly, I'm not sure I do, either.

Maybe I've been careless with my own heart. I've swooned over Clay, had him over to my parents' house, let myself fantasize about things that aren't true.

Maybe I'm supposed to harden myself. Push him away because I can't pull him closer.

And I try to. I list reasons in my head, circling over the same hard truths.

But then Clay walks through the door, and my heart soars, and all I want is him, and to tell him exactly what I feel.

A man with a silver beard follows him, both of his hands under the suspenders that hold up his baggy gray trousers.

"Nicholas," the man practically bellows. He storms past Clay and straight to me. "You must be Nicholas! I am Jacob."

"Oh!" I perk up and offer my hand, which he shakes vigorously. "Yes. Nice to meet you."

He looks around the building. "Just as I remember," he says and claps his hands. "Very good!"

I look to Clay, who shrugs, his expression telling me that he doesn't know what to make of Jacob either.

"You've been by the flower shop before?" I ask.

Jacob wiggles his hand from side to side. "Not exactly. I met Randy at a bar one night and came home with him. Only saw the upstairs, and we spent half the night in the shower!"

He bellows out a laugh.

"Shower hasn't changed much," Clay says. "But I've done what I can to restore the place."

Jacob nods. "So I hear!" He smacks his hands together like he's cleaning them. "I am ready to move back to the neighborhood. After years downtown, I have decided I want a life like Randy's. I am retiring, you know!"

I blink, taking it in. "This is definitely the right location for it," I offer.

Jacob turns to Clay. "You've done very good work here," he announces. "Now show me the furnace I might buy."

Clay gestures toward the rear. "This way," he says.

As he walks by me, he slows.

Our eyes meet, and in a few brief seconds, a million things pass between us. Entire conversations held in lust and longing.

It's happening. He's secured someone to buy the building.

My breath hitches, and Clay pushes a hand through his hair.

"Looks like Jacob is the guy," he says, no emotion in his voice.

"Yeah," I say with a nod, mustering all my optimism to hide how much this hurts. "Looks like it's going to work out."

But if everything is working out, why is my heart breaking?