“Rose hips,” he said, gesturing to the red and green berries, fat and shiny. “Sedum.” He reached for a stem topped with a plain of tiny flowers of white and dusky lavender. “Is this lavender too pink? I promised somebody I wouldn’t screw this up, and I’d hate to go back on my word.”
I chuckled, ignoring the tingle of warmth in my cheeks. “They’re perfect.”
“The succulents came in too.” He stepped to the table where trays of succulents and vibrant mosses waited for my approval. Tenderly, he scooped up a succulent that burst from deep purple to vivid green, center to tip. It sat in his broad, cupped hand, roots in its dirt in his palm. “For the centerpieces,” he said.
“They’ll look brilliant.”
He smiled, returning it to its home and dusting off his hands. “There were other flowers we don’t have space to grow, but they’re in the cooler. White anemones, tulips, and hyacinth for the bouquet and touches in the centerpieces. Tess made the garland mostly out of purple amaranth, strung it with feather tops and sprigs of dusty miller.” He reached for what I thought was a pile of furry lavender falls, pale feathery yellows, and silvery-green leaves dotted with buds, but when he spread his arms, the garland hung before him.
I drew a slight breath of surprise. “She is a genius,” I said, eyes trailing the details of the strung grasses. “The bride is going to cry, and we’ll all get a raise.”
At that, he laughed. “I don’t need tears. I’ll accept anything, except for her coming after you like the Berkshire girl.”
“Well, they were the wrong color,” I noted, but I couldn’t help but smile. “Anyway, you got yours—I ended up planted in the greenhouse.”
“Should I be expecting a dry cleaning bill?” He smirked as he folded the garland, spooling it onto the table.
“Without a doubt. Consider the flowers officially approved. And thank you for letting me micromanage you. I know it’s not typical for an event planner to come second-guessing your work.”
“It’s more common than you might think. And I don’t mind, Lila.”
Something in my chest snagged at the sound of my name from his lips. I laughed it off. “Not much ruffles you, does it, Kash?”
One of his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “You’ve met my family. It’s no place for someone who’s easily annoyed. We all learned early how to irritate each other and weather each other’s irritations.”
“Fair enough, but you’re particularly unflappable.”
“A trait I inherited from my father. I don’t think he’s ever been in an argument a day in his life even though my mother seems to argue with him daily. He just sits and listens and nods, and in the end, he imparts some deep and poignant wisdom on you. It’s his special skill, aside from this.” He swept a hand toward the greenhouse, wall to wall.
I looked over the rows of color and life, smiling to myself through a stretch of silence, not realizing he was watching me until he spoke.
“I’m sorry. About your boyfriend.”
A shot of pain, and my smile was gone. I turned my gaze on him. “Excuse me?”
He had the decency to look at least a little cowed, but he crossed his arms and leaned against the edge of the worktable, the picture of amiability. Nothing about him seemed dangerous. But every warning bell rang, setting my spine stiff.
“Ivy and Tess were talking about it. Ivy wasn’t gossiping or anything, just venting. She’s not happy with him.”
“That makes two of us,” I said shortly.
He watched me for a beat. “He’s a fool, you know.”
Another jolt, this one hotter. “So am I.”
His brows flicked together, more concerned than put off. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “What happened … it’s not your fault.”
The words hit me like a battering ram, freezing my lungs and holding the breath there. For a moment, I said nothing, just stood there, tracing those words with my heart. I hadn’t realized until he’d said it that was exactly how I felt beneath my armor of rightness and false certainty. That even if I hadn’t driven him to cheat on me, which I probably had, I hadn’t known. It was my fault if for no other reason than I was blind. Stupid. Wrong.
A squeeze of my throat prompted me to swallow. And Kash just watched, his face touched with concern and earnest care. There was another edge too, singed by anger. Anger at Brock, I realized.