Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 24266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Looking back, maybe I should've posted my question on the internet first instead of acting on it.
Maybe if I'd just minded my business and let him go as I did before, then I could've focused on my own grief and the sad state of my life.
Then again, maybe he shouldn't have responded.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
ONE
Dahlia
My Dearest Dahlia,
I’m entrusting you with my most precious possession in life, something that I know will be in great hands: Blooms & Letters.
My mother’s final words stared at me from her will.
With tears in my eyes, I held the thin paper up to the light, hoping the letters were an anagram for something else. Something that could help me accept she was long gone. Something that could distract me.
Like maybe, “the seven figures in my bank account.”
The letter “v” was nowhere in sight, though, and I could still hear my older sister squealing joyfully about receiving the account for herself.
The “stocks and properties your father and I invested in over the years,” would’ve been nice as well, but they were doled out to my older brother.
He’s already wealthy. He doesn’t need any more money…
“Blooms & Letters” was her gardening business.
Well, a “gardener’s paradise,” according to the locals.
Set on thirty-two acres in the heart of Eads River, Tennessee, it featured an oasis of evergreen trees, almost any bloom ever planted on this earth, and a custom delivery shop specializing in bouquets. Not to mention the cafe and wedding venue that were tucked under its century-old oak trees.
As the youngest child, I’d grown up pulling weeds and planting by my mother’s side for as long as I could remember, but I’d always hated gardening, and anything I knew about plants was learned against my will.
Tucking the paper into my glovebox, I glanced at the garden’s main entrance, where large condolence cards, mylar balloons, and drenched teddy bears adorned the brick steps.
“We will miss you so much, Kate!” “Your green heart & thumb will be missed!” “I know you’re busy planting the best garden heaven will ever see!”
Braving the soft rains, I grabbed as many gifts as possible before unlocking the front door.
As soon as I set everything down, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Aunt Gertrude
Are you at the shop? Do I need to refresh your memory on how to open it?
I’m okay. I can handle it.
There are sixty orders that need to go out TODAY, and you must prepare umbrellas for this week’s walking tours.
Oh, and adjust the roof panels before this rain falls any harder.
I tossed my phone into a drawer, ignoring its continued vibrations.
My mother’s sister was more obsessed with this place than she was, and I wondered why she didn’t leave it to her instead of me.
Needing a distraction, I printed today’s orders and spotted a familiar name at the top.
Everett Anderson?
No, it can’t be…
That name belonged to my first and only love. The man who still held the keys to my heart, even though I’d been forced to change the locks.
Hoping this was simply a coincidence, I opened the complete request.
Dear Everett,
I’m sending you these beautiful Southern red roses because I want you to know that you’re the love of my life, and I can’t wait to get married next year.
I’m so happy we met on that random August morning for coffee, that a random “We can share the last cookie,” turned into so much more…
The way you kiss me, the way you hold me, and the way you fuck me runs through my mind all the time and never fails to make me smile. (or soaking wet :-) )
I’m looking forward to starting a new life and a family together.
Forever Writing You,
Carmen
My stomach dropped.
“Forever writing you” was our line.
Sure, we ended on such terrible terms that I still woke up some nights in tears and wished we could start all over again, but I’d never written those words to any other man I’d dated.
How could he ever say them to someone else?
Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to my mother’s name.
Before I hit dial, I remembered.
She wasn’t here to answer…
Ignoring the tears that fell past my cheeks, I picked up a pair of scissors and snipped roses for Everett’s fiancée.
As I measured the stems, the rain fell harder and crashed through the grated ceiling.
Fuck…
TWO
Everett
The Hudson Yards’ skyscrapers stretched their gleaming silver arms and welcomed me home.
Well, “home” for the last weekend, anyway.
As I pulled into my condo's parking garage, a black and grey blur struck my windshield.
What the hell? I slammed the brakes.
“Mr. Anderson! Stop!” It was a journalist, and he was clinging to the hood of my car.