too much into it.”
“The story is about Jake. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’ve fallen in love with this man. And rightfully so. He’s charming, attractive, and sympathetic.”
“Which means he’s just setting me up before he leaves.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “Maybe not.” She adjusts her hips and turns to me, so she can level her gaze with mine as she speaks sternly, “I don’t trust men, and neither do you. We’ve been burned. That’s our history. However, I don’t want you to ever believe that love doesn’t exist.”
“I know it does. I just don’t believe it will happen for me.”
“That was then. Your other books all reflected that. Yes, the hero and heroine always wound up together, but it was superficial. In this book, what you have with Jake shows through. I don’t know if it will last. No one does. I just want to make sure you know that I’m happy for you, and I don’t want you to hide your relationship from me anymore.”
I smile; it’s the kind of grin that hits my eyes. Unfortunately, it falls just as fast. “We’re not in a relationship. It ended.”
She leans back, confused. “What about that epilogue you wrote?”
“That wasn’t real. Our story ended at the cottage. In the book, the heroine realizes she’s in love with him on the drive home, and, yes, that was me, but in real life, I panicked. It was all downhill from there.”
She nods knowingly. “I see. Did he panic too?”
“Nope. He’s pretty steadfast in his feelings.”
“And you still love him?”
With a nod, I’m finally ready to say it out loud. “Very much so, yes.”
“But you’re scared?”
I nod again. “Very much so, yes.”
“Then, there’s only one more question,” she says, and I look up and wait for her to ask it. “Do you love him more than you’re scared?”
Closing my eyes, I smile. “I think so.”
“Then, it looks like you have a new epilogue to write.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m standing outside Moreau Flowers, entirely too nervous to be doing this. If Jake won’t come home, then I need to go to him, and work is the most obvious place to find him.
I open the door, and the chime goes off, sounding more like a siren in my head than a sweet jangling, as it probably does to everyone else.
Jake is at the front desk, doing a floral design for a client. He’s smiling that gorgeous grin I’ve missed and making the client laugh. His ease while working actually makes my racing heart simmer down a bit. That’s just what he does. He calms you with his presence.
That is, of course, until he looks at you.
Those chocolate eyes make me melt into a puddle of goo as he stares at me.
“Hi, Lacey,” he says, and I’m surprised.
The couple he’s working with is standing right here. They turn around to see who he’s talking to.
I give a wave. “You can get back to helping these nice people.”
His eyes narrow, but his mouth tilts up as he stands straight and states nonchalantly, “It’s okay. You remember my buddy Kent from the museum. And this is his fiancée, Sydney. Guys, this is Lacey.”
His ease with me being here is unnerving. I thought he’d be angry or pissed. Instead, he’s just … lovely.
Kent and Sydney are smiling and take a step to the side, as if to give me a path toward the counter, where Jake is working. The way Sydney grabs Kent with a big smile on her face proves to me that they know exactly who I am and why I’m here.
“Can I get you anything?” Jake asks, and I panic slightly.
“Um … yes. I came for daisies.”
He quirks a brow. “Daisies?”
“Yes.”
Without another question, he turns to the cooler behind him and takes out a bunch of the happy-looking flower. He walks them over to a side counter, where tissue paper and cellophane are ready for him to make a bouquet. My skin is prickling as I watch him make the bouquet, the entire event not going as planned. I wasn’t expecting there to be people in the store, and I certainly wasn’t prepared for him to squeeze me in while he was working with them.
“Here you go.” He hands me the bouquet, and I get lost for a moment in how handsome he looks in his green sweater.
“Thanks.”
I take out my wallet, but he holds up a hand.
“On the house.”
He’s acting friendly. It’s not like the man who walked out of my apartment. It’s like the guy