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Things in the studio had been picking up lately so Jack found himself going to the shop in the afternoon to hang out while they close. The sun slanted through the flower shop windows, warm and golden, casting gentle shadows across petals and polished counters. Lila was trimming stems at the table by the window, lost in her own thoughts, while soft music drifted from the radio tucked behind the register.
Jack was rearranging a half-finished bouquet, trying to convince a particularly stubborn stem of eucalyptus to behave, when the next song crackled through the speakers.
He paused.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he murmured with a slow grin.
From behind the counter, Violet’s head popped up. “What?”
Jack turned toward her dramatically, hand over his heart like he’d just been personally betrayed. “You don’t know this song?”
Violet blinked. “No…”
His eyes widened. “You don’t know Phil Collins?!”
“Phil who?!” she asked, full of sass and suspicion.
Lila smirked behind her work but kept her head down.
Jack gasped. “Unacceptable.”
With mock seriousness, he marched over and scooped Violet up. She squealed, legs kicking, as he carried her to the front counter and gently set her down on top.
“I’m about to change your life, tiny human,” he announced, just as the beat of “You Can’t Hurry Love” picked up behind him.
Then he started to sing. Softly at first, almost joking — but then the rhythm pulled him in, and his voice got warmer, smoother, more real.
Violet giggled, watching him with wide eyes as he exaggerated every word.
You can’t hurry love, no you just have to wait…
He reached out, wiggled his fingers toward her, and she grabbed them, still laughing. Gently, he lifted her off the counter and set her on his sneakers — big, expensive, very much not playground-approved sneakers.
“Hold on tight,” he said.
And then they danced.
Clumsily at first — Violet wobbling on his shoes, holding his fingers like handlebars. But soon she got the rhythm, nodding along, her curls bouncing, her little voice joining in here and there with half-mumbled lyrics and a wide grin that showed all her baby teeth.
Lila had frozen at the table.
She couldn’t look away.
There was Jack. Rapper, celebrity, headliner, twirling with a four year old on his feet like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
And her heart… oh, her heart.
It swelled so fast she nearly had to sit down.
He didn’t look like a man passing through. He didn’t look like someone playing nice to impress. He looked like someone who belonged in that moment, someone who meant it.
And when the song faded out and Violet flopped down on the counter in a dramatic sigh of delight, she grinned up at him and said, “You should be a singer one day!”
Lila had to turn her face so they wouldn’t see her laugh.
Jack just gave her a bow. “Don’t let my secret get out, alright?”
Violet nodded solemnly.
Lila met his eyes then. And there was something in his smile that told her he’d felt it too whatever that moment was.
She quickly turned away, back to her flowers, but her hands were shaking.
Because, god help her… she was falling for him.
And it almost scared her to death.
***
Lila had rehearsed what she was going to say at least six times.
She wasn’t trying to push him away — not really. She just… needed to be careful. Things were getting too soft, too fast. The dancing, the muffins, the little ways Violet had started looking for him like he belonged. It was dangerous. For all of them.
So when the bell above the door rang and Jack strolled in, wearing a white tee and jeans and that unfair smile, she took a breath and forced her heart to stay steady.
He looked around, saw the shop was quiet, and gave her a nod. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied, quieter than she meant to.
Violet was in the back with her coloring books. Lila glanced that way, then back to him, fingers nervously tapping the counter.
She needed to say it. She had to say it.
“Jack,” she started, “I’ve been thinking—”
He stepped up to the counter and leaned in, cutting her off without knowing it. “I was wondering if maybe you two would want to go out this weekend.”
Lila blinked. “Go out?”
He shrugged, almost shyly. “You know… a date. With me.” Then, quickly: “Violet invited, of course. I wouldn’t leave her out. I was thinking the aquarium maybe? There’s a sea lion show. I read it’s fun.”
Her rehearsed speech scattered like petals in the wind.
He looked so hopeful. So earnest. And the way he included Violet without hesitation tugged at the very center of her chest.
She should’ve said no. She meant to say no.
Instead, she nodded slowly. “The aquarium, huh?”
He smiled, eyes lighting up. “What? Too basic?”
“No,” she said softly, almost smiling. “It actually sounds kind of perfect.”
From the back room, they heard Violet’s voice suddenly shout, “Did someone say sea lions?!”
Jack laughed. “I guess that’s a yes?”
Lila sighed, the tension melting out of her shoulders. “Yeah. That’s a yes.”
She still didn’t know what she was doing.
But as he grinned and gently knocked his knuckles against the counter like it was their version of a handshake, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
Not when Violet was already bouncing around the corner asking what kind of snacks sea lions liked.
Not when she realized she wanted this, wanted him more than she wanted to keep her walls up.
***
The aquarium was surprisingly quiet for a Saturday, the blue-lit halls winding like underwater dreams. Glass walls shimmered fish, jellyfish pulsed like slow breathing, and the low hum of ocean sounds played in the background.
Violet was practically glued to Jack’s side, her tiny hand tucked into his as they walked from one tank to the next. Her face lit up with every new creature they saw — pointing, gasping, asking question after question.
Jack answered them all.
“Did you know octopuses have three hearts?”
“What? No they don’t,” Violet said, mouth full of popcorn.
“They do,” he said, lowering his voice like it was a conspiracy. “Two for pumping blood to the gills, one for the body. They’re like little aliens.”
Lila trailed a few steps behind them, watching.
Watching the way Violet laughed when he made silly voices for the sea turtles.
Watching the way he bent down to her level when she talked, like everything she said deserved his full attention.
The way he didn’t seem to be trying to be good with her… he just was.
And she knew — in the back of her mind, in that place where fear and love often shared a seat — that her daughter was getting attached.
And if she was honest… she was too.
They stopped at the sea lion exhibit just before the show started, and Violet insisted they all sit in the front row. Jack didn’t hesitate — he let her pull him down, her hand still clutching his, and when Lila joined them, he gave her a soft smile over Violet head.
“Having fun?” he asked.
She nodded. “You?”
“I mean… I’m surrounded by sea creatures and ladies who laugh at all my jokes. Kind of the dream.”
She chuckled, but it caught in her throat when he looked away and gently adjusted the hood of Violet’s jacket, pulling it up to keep her warm in the cool theater air.
Lila looked at the two of them, so natural, like they’d done this a hundred times before. Not just today. Not just recently. Like this was… real.
And that terrified her.
Because it was one thing to fall for someone. It was another thing entirely to watch your child fall for them, too.
What if he left?
What if this was temporary — some break from his real life full of flashing lights and tour buses?
She didn’t realize how tightly her hands were knotted in her coat until Violet leaned back against Jack, yawning as the sea lions took their bow.
Lila exhaled, forcing herself to smile as Jack leaned over and whispered, “She’s kind of the coolest kid I’ve ever met.”
And then, softer, like it wasn’t meant to be said out loud:
“You’re kind of… amazing, too.”
Her heart did that awful, wonderful lurch.
She looked at him, at the way his blue eyes softened when they met hers — and she knew.
She was in trouble.
Because she wanted to believe this could work.
And she was so scared it couldn’t.
The car was quiet on the way home, the kind of stillness that didn’t feel awkward — just full. Violet was fast asleep in the backseat, her head slumped to the side, Jack’s jacket wrapped around her like a blanket.
The radio played low, something soft and old-school drifting through the speakers. Lila hummed along under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers tapped lightly on her knee in rhythm with the beat, and the wind from the cracked window stirred her hair gently across her cheeks.
Jack glanced over.
She looked peaceful. Her eyes half-lidded, her mouth curved just slightly as she sang along, like this song held some kind of secret just for her. The city lights flickered across her face, and for a moment, he didn’t want to look away.
She caught him staring.
Her cheeks flushed the second their eyes met.
“What?” she asked, half-shy, half-curious.
Jack smiled, slow and genuine. “You’re beautiful.”
Lila looked down at her lap, then out the window, trying not to grin. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”
“It’s not,” he said, voice low and steady. “But it still hits me sometimes. Like… wow. Her. Right here.”
Her laugh was quiet, but warm. “You’re cheesy.”
“I’m serious,” he said, glancing back at the road but stealing another look at her. “Today was… it was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.”
“Even with Violet trying to feed the sea lion her popcorn?
“Especially because of that.”
Lila looked over at him, studying his face in the dim glow of the dashboard.
“I really like you, Lila,” he said finally, eyes back on the road but voice thick with something that felt bigger than it sounded. “And I don’t want to mess this up. Whatever this is… I want more of it. Of you.”
She didn’t respond right away.
Instead, she looked at Violet in the back seat, softly snoring. Then at her own hands, curled together in her lap. Then back at him — at the man she didn’t mean to fall for.
And maybe she didn’t say it back. Not yet.
But she didn’t pull away either.
She just whispered, “Me too.”
And in the quiet, that was enough.
By the time they pulled up in front of the house, the street was quiet and still, bathed in the soft amber glow of the porch light. Lila moved to unbuckle Violet, but Jack gently stopped her with a touch to her hand.
“I got her,” he said softly.
She watched as he carefully unbuckled the sleepy four-year-old, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Violet stirred but didn’t wake, her cheek pressing against his shoulder, her small arms wrapping around his neck instinctively.
Lila opened the front door and led him through the house, watching from the hallway as he stepped into her shared room with Violet and gently placed her into bed. He crouched beside her for a moment, brushing the hair from her forehead and whispering something Lila couldn’t hear.
He stepped out quietly and closed the door behind him.
Neither of them said anything as they walked back toward the front door. The night air was cooler now, crisp with the promise of fall. Lila rubbed her arms and turned toward him, ready to say thank you, goodnight, something casual that didn’t feel like everything she was feeling.
But he beat her to it.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, his voice suddenly unsure like for all his stage presence and confidence, this moment meant more than any crowd ever could.
Lila’s breath caught.
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers like he was waiting for her to change her mind. And when she didn’t, when she looked up at him like maybe she’d been waiting for this moment all night, he leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed.
It was careful, reverent — like he’d thought about it too much to mess it up. His hand found her waist, hers curled gently into the fabric of his jacket. And for a few seconds, there was nothing but that kiss and the sound of crickets in the distance and her heart thudding too hard in her chest.
When they finally pulled apart, she was breathless. So was he.
He smiled down at her. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
She laughed softly, biting her bottom lip. “Yeah. Me too.”
He started to walk backward toward his car, eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll answer,” she whispered, then closed the door before she could do something crazy like kiss him again.
Leaning against the inside of the door, she pressed a hand to her chest and let herself smile like a teenager again.
The door slammed behind him with a soft thud as Jack stepped into the condo. The scent of flowers still clung to his hoodie, which wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he was used to carrying around in brown paper.
He tossed the bouquet onto the kitchen counter like it had embarrassed him, then leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on his face.
“Yo,” came a voice from the couch. “Why do you smell like a spa?”
Jack looked up to see his best friend, Urban, sitting with a bowl of cereal in his lap, still in yesterday’s hoodie and socks. He was watching something on his iPad but had clearly been waiting for him to walk in.
Jack straightened. “Don’t start.”
Urban looked past him at the counter. “You bring flowers home?”
Jack opened the fridge like he was suddenly starving. “They were free.”
“Uh-huh.” Urban didn’t look away.
Jack grabbed a bottle of water and closed the fridge. “They had extras they were gonna throw away.”
Urban snorted. “So you rescued a bouquet of sunflowers?”
Jack leaned back against the counter and took a swig of water. “Man, can’t I do something normal without it being a whole thing?”
Urban paused the video and stood up slowly, eyeing him. “You’ve never done anything normal in your life.”
He didn’t answer.
Urban raised an eyebrow. “So. You met someone.”
Jack stared him down. “She owns a flower shop.”
Urban’s grin widened. “Aha. There it is.”
“She didn’t even know who I was,” Jack muttered, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Thought I was just some guy asking weird questions about flowers.”
Urban chuckled. “And that didn’t bruise your ego?”
Jack thought back to the way she’d looked at him — kind, distracted, completely unbothered by the weight of who he was. The way her daughter had tilted her little face up and called him “big human.”
He smiled without meaning to.
Urban saw it instantly. “Oh no. You’re smiling. You’re in trouble.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“You got flowers in your kitchen and a smile on your face, bro. It’s exactly like that.”
Urban leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Jack a little more closely now. The teasing faded just slightly, replaced with something more honest.
“You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “this is the first time in weeks I’ve seen you look like you’re not completely miserable being in New York.”
Jack didn’t say anything at first. He just leaned back against the counter, chewing the inside of his cheek. The city had been loud, suffocating even, since the day he landed. Every meeting felt the same. Every studio session was just noise lately. Every room full of people still felt empty.
But this morning, a sleepy kid rolled her eyes at him and a woman with tired eyes and sunflower-stained fingers looked at him like he was just some guy in a hoodie. For the first time in a long time, something had cut through the static.
He exhaled. “Yeah. She was… different.”
Urban smiled, softer now. “Different’s good.”
Jack looked over at the flowers again, like they held answers he didn’t quite know how to ask for yet. “Yeah,” he said under his breath. “It is.”
***
The next morning came with the usual chaos: a spilled box of cereal, and Violet deciding she was now a dinosaur and refusing to answer to anything but “Raptor Queen.”
By ten o’clock, Lila had already arranged six bouquets, taken two phone orders, and was now sweeping up the shattered remains of a ceramic cat vase, Violet just “had to pick up.”
“I told you, baby,” Lila said calmly, broom in hand. “You can’t touch any of the vases.”
Violet, arms crossed and sitting on the stool behind the counter, gave an unimpressed huff. “It looked like a real cat.”
Lila opened her mouth to respond but stopped when the bell above the door rang.
Two teenage girls walked in, all long legs, lip gloss, and backpacks slung low. One of them had glitter eyeshadow that looked like it had been applied with reckless joy, and the other was already filming a TikTok on her phone, spinning toward the bouquets.
“Can I help you find something?” Lila asked, brushing her hands on her apron.
“We’re good,” one of the girls said distractedly. “Just need something fast for my aunt’s birthday. But—dude—tell me why you didn’t text me last night.”
“Because I was dying,” said the other one. “You didn’t tell me he was in Brooklyn.”
“Didn’t have to. It was all over my FYP. Like—hello? Jack Harlow? Walking into some random shop like he’s not the biggest rapper alive?”
Lila, mid-sweep, paused.
Violet looked up from where she was trying to peel a sticker off the register. “Momma.”
“Shh,” Lila whispered.
She wasn’t proud of it. But she was human. And now she was casually, professionally, expertly… eavesdropping.
“Jack was literally on Lafayette yesterday. That’s, like, right here.”
The other girl gasped. “Wait—do you think it was that flower shop? With the cute windows and the ‘Don’t Be a Prick’ cactus sign?”
Lila nearly dropped the broom. The shop they were talking about was about a block away.
“Oh my god, what if he was buying flowers for someone?” the first girl said. “He probably has, like, a low-key girlfriend nobody knows about.”
“She’s probably an Instagram model,” the other muttered darkly. “…turned DJ. Ugh.”
Lila managed to find her voice. “Um—sorry to interrupt—but did you say Jack Harlow was in this neighborhood yesterday?”
Both girls turned to her with wide eyes, suddenly seeing her for the first time.
“Yeah,” one of them said slowly. “You know him?”
Lila blinked. “I… I think I saw him walk past the store.” She didn’t wanna blow his cover.
The one with the phone gasped. “Did he have a hoodie and sunglasses?”
“Yes.”
“Tall? Kind of intense but hot in a ‘I write groovy rap songs but also lift weights’ kind of way?”
Lila couldn’t help it—she let out a soft laugh. “That’s… uncomfortably accurate.”
“Oh my god,” the other girl breathed. “You saw Jack Harlow.”
Violet, chewing on a carrot stick, piped up. “He waved to me. I waved back.”
Both girls gaped at her like she was royalty.
Lila felt her stomach twist. Yesterday, he’d just been a funny guy buying a sunflower. A guy with a low voice and tired eyes and… okay, yes, ridiculously good bone structure. But she hadn’t made the connection. Not even when he’d smiled.
Now, it clicked. The name. The voice. He wasn’t just a rapper.
He was the rapper.
And she hadn’t even asked for his full name. Or an autograph. Or a selfie. She’d told him sunflowers were emotionally unstable and sold him one wrapped in $2 brown paper.
She leaned on the counter, stunned. “Well… crap.”
***
The next morning, Lila tried very hard to act like she hadn’t spent the night spiraling through Jack Harlow’s entire discography while Violet slept on her arm. It was fine. Everything was fine. She was a professional. She sold flowers. To people. Even if those people had Grammy nominations and twelve million followers.
At 10:07 a.m., the bell above the door rang.
She looked up—and froze.
No hoodie this time. No sunglasses.
Just Jack.
And now she knew for sure. Those sharp cheekbones, the strong jawline softened only slightly by the way his mouth curved—like he was fighting a smirk all the time. And those eyes. Ridiculously blue. Like the ocean, if the ocean had a record deal.
He held a small paper bag in one hand and a juice box in the other.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside like it wasn’t weird at all. “Brought food?”
Lila blinked. “You—uh. You did.”
He looked down at the bag. “Three muffins. I panicked. I didn’t know if you were a chocolate chip person or a lemon poppy seed person, and then I saw a blueberry one and thought, ‘she gives blueberry energy,’ but then I got all three just in case.”
Lila stared. “That was… very thoughtful.”
“And,” he added, holding up the juice box, “for the small creature.”
Right on cue, Violet peeked over the counter like a groundhog. Her curls were wild. She had glitter under one eye. She looked like she’d just finished a three-day bender at a toddler rave.
“Juice,” she said suspiciously.
“Apple,” Jack offered, crouching slightly to meet her gaze.
She took it from him with the grace of a tiny queen accepting tribute. “You again.”
“You remember me?” he asked, grinning.
She shrugged. “You said I was small.”
“You’re still small,” he teased.
Violet narrowed her eyes. “And you’re still tall.”
Lila pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “Violet, what do we say?”
“Thank you for the juice,” Violet muttered.
“You’re welcome,” Jack said, standing again. “She’s honest. I respect that.”
“She’s four,” Lila replied. “That’s the most honest age in existence.”
He glanced around the shop. “This is a really nice shop?”
Lila raised an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re shocked.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly. “Just… nice. Quiet. No noise.”
“You get a lot of that?”
He gave a small smile. “I can’t do anything sometimes without someone trying to record me. Just this morning they were watching me pick out a cinnamon roll like it was breaking news.”
“Tragic,” Lila deadpanned. “Did you at least get the roll?”
“Of course. I’m not a monster.”
She laughed, and he seemed to relax a little. His shoulders dropped. He leaned one elbow on the counter, still holding the bag of muffins.
“Mind if I hang for a bit?” he asked. “Not tryna be weird. Just… not in a rush today.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. I’ve got flower arrangements and a dinosaur assistant, but you’re welcome to observe the chaos.”
He pulled up a stool.
Violet, meanwhile, had already climbed onto her own and was sipping juice like she was judging a fine wine.
“You ever think about getting a second assistant?” Jack asked, glancing at the child with mock seriousness.
“She barely clocks in for this job,” Lila said. “Besides, I hear rappers don’t take direction well.”
“Who said I was a rapper?” he asked with a teasing glint in his eye.
Lila gave him a slow look. “Oh, please.”
He held up his hands. “Busted.”
She smirked and started trimming a bouquet. “You don’t have to pretend not to be who you are.”
“Actually,” he said, voice a little softer now, “I kinda liked that you didn’t know.”
She glanced at him. “You liked that I treated you like a normal guy buying flowers?”
“I liked that you talked to me like a person,” he replied. “Not a brand.”
That made her pause.
“Fair enough,” she said. “But if you’re staying, you’re working.”
He smiled. “What’s the job?”
“Hold this,” she said, handing him a ribbon and a pair of scissors. “Don’t mess it up. My boss is scary.”
Violet raised an eyebrow from her stool. “I am.”
Jack laughed—and for the first time in a long while, so did Lila.
The shop settled into the hush of early afternoon. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus filled the air, mixed with the sugary smell of muffins. The traffic outside thinned, and for a moment, the world felt still.
Violet, after a valiant fight against the tyranny of naptime, finally gave in. She curled up on the tiny corduroy couch in the back room—Lila’s “office,” which was really just a glorified broom closet with a cracked window, a desk that wobbled, and a framed picture of a peony that always hung crooked no matter how many times she straightened it.
Lila tucked a knitted blanket over her daughter and left the door cracked open before returning to the front of the shop, where Jack was still perched on the stool, absently tying ribbon around his finger like he was practicing knots.
“She out?” he asked softly.
“Out cold,” Lila replied, brushing her hands on her apron. “Five minutes of yawning, two minutes of denial, thirty seconds of dramatic collapse.”
He smiled. “She’s cool.”
“She’s a handful.”
“That too.”
She leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “So… are you gonna tell me what you were really doing in a flower shop in Brooklyn two days ago?”
He gave her a look. “Maybe I just really needed a sunflower.”
“Sure.”
He chuckled, caught. “Okay. I was trying to write. Nothing was working. My team booked me in this brownstone nearby to get me out of Kentucky for a bit. Change of scenery. Clear my head.”
She tilted her head. “And you thought, ‘you know what’ll fix my writer’s block? Sunflowers.’”
“I was hoping the universe would throw me something,” he said with a shrug. “And it kind of did.”
Her gaze flicked to him, curious. “What do you mean?”
He looked at her then, really looked at her. And his voice was softer when he answered. “I don’t know. You were just… normal. But not boring. Kind of chaotic. You had this tiny kid bossing you around, and you were wrapping flowers and humming to yourself and making jokes about emotionally unstable sunflowers, and it felt like—”
“Like what?”
He hesitated. “Like I wanted to stay.”
Lila’s breath caught in her throat.
She tried to laugh it off, but it came out quieter than she meant. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m trying to,” he said, still watching her.
She looked down at the counter, suddenly feeling too seen. “Well, fair warning. It’s not a glamorous life. I’m a single mom. I live with my sister. I spend most of my days here trying to keep the lights on, and most of my nights end with a four-year-old curled into my ribs.”
“That sounds kind of perfect,” he said quietly.
She glanced up again.
He wasn’t flirting. Not really. He wasn’t trying to be smooth or cool. He looked almost surprised by his own words.
And that—somehow—was worse.
Because it felt real.
“You don’t have to impress me,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m not trying to,” he replied.
And for a moment, neither of them said anything. The shop was quiet, just the faint hum of the cooler in the corner and the soft patter of rain beginning against the windows.
Then Lila cleared her throat, gently breaking the moment. “If you’re looking for inspiration, maybe you should come help me with the arrangements tomorrow.”
He raised a brow. “Are you offering me a job?”
“I’m offering you ribbon duty. Entry level. No benefits.”
“Do I at least get a name tag?”
She smirked. “We’ll see.”
He grinned. “Then I’ll be here.”
***
AN: alright tell me what you thinkkkkk thanks for reading 🫶
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The bell above the shop door gave a lazy jingle, but Lila Carter didn’t look up right away. She was arranging daisy’s into a teacup-sized pot, a soft smudge of soil across her cheek. Lila was trying not to swear in front of the tiny pair of eyes watching her from the floor behind the counter.
“Momma, Cinnabun’s ears ripped again.”
Lila sighed and leaned over the counter just far enough to see her four-year-old daughter, Violet, holding up a battered stuffed rabbit with one ear hanging on by a thread. Again.
“Tell him to hold it together for ten more minutes,” she said, grabbing the needle and thread she kept in the drawer specifically for this purpose. “We’ve had a long morning.”
Violet gave her a dramatic eye roll—far too advanced for a preschooler—and returned to her coloring book, propped up on the floor with a juice box at her side.
It wasn’t ideal. But it was life.
Running a small flower shop in Brooklyn while raising a child alone wasn’t exactly a recipe for luxury. Especially not after Violet’s dad decided the whole fatherhood thing wasn’t quite for him somewhere between “I’m pregnant” and “It’s a girl.”
Lila’s older sister had offered her the spare bedroom in her apartment over the shop, and Lila had taken it without hesitation. Rent was too high, babysitters were too expensive, and Violet’s daycare had shut down six months ago.
So now, the shop was home, work, and a playroom all in one. It was chaos. But it was hers.
The bell jingled again, and this time, Lila looked up.
A man walked in wearing a baseball cap pulled low and sunglasses that didn’t belong indoors. He moved like someone who wasn’t used to being ignored, which immediately made her suspicious.
He took off his sunglasses, paused in front of the succulents, picked up the tiny cactus, and inspected it like he was waiting for it to talk.
“That one’s not technically a flower,” Lila called from behind the counter, needle still in hand. “But points for effort.”
The man glanced over, clearly surprised to be addressed. “Right. Of course. I knew that.”
Lila arched a brow. “Sure you did.”
He looked around, eyes scanning the shelves like he was searching for the meaning of life in a pot of daisies.
“What flower says, ‘I mean well, but I’m a bit of a disaster’?” he asked finally.
Lila froze mid-stitch, she could tell from his accent that he was not a New Yorker. “Sorry?”
“You know,” he said, gesturing vaguely. “Like—‘Hi, I vanished for a few days and maybe forgot your birthday, but I swear I’m not a bad person.’ Something like that.”
She gave him a look. “So… the universal man bouquet.”
He let out a laugh—rich, low, and surprisingly genuine. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”
She walked out from behind the counter, brushing her hands on her apron. “Sunflowers, then. Big, showy, fall over without support. The metaphors built-in.”
As she handed one to him, he noticed the little girl peeking over the edge of the counter with wide, curious eyes.
“Hello,” he said, crouching slightly. “Small creature.”
Violet blinked at him, unimpressed. “Hello, big human.”
He grinned. “Fair enough.”
“That’s Violet,” Lila said, unable to hide her amusement. “And no, she’s not for sale.”
He raised his hands. “Didn’t even ask. But she seems cool.”
Violet turned back to her coloring with an air of dismissal only toddlers could pull off.
The man stood and looked at Lila again—long enough that she finally looked closer, too.
She considered him again. He looked familiar, in a vague, have-we-met-once-at-a-party-you-don’t-remember kind of way. But she chalked it up to him just having one of those faces.
Lila quickly wrapped the sunflowers and handed them to him.
He just offered a smile and a twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change,” he said. “This place has good energy.”
And then he was gone, walking back into the city.
Lila turned to Violet, who was watching the door like she half expected him to come back.
“Do we know that man?” Violet asked.
“No, I don’t believe so.” She said, still staring at the door he walked out of.
“He talks funny.”
“You think so?”
Violet picked up her stuffed bunny again. “I liked it.”
And that was that.
But it wouldn’t be the last time he came in.
Not even close.
****
A nice little short story, this probably won’t have more than 6 chapters. I already have it all written so 😌 please let me know if you like this because validation makes me post chapters faster 🥰
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