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safe from heartbreak (if you never fall in love)

pairing – dr. michael robinavitch x florist!fem reader

rating – mature. minors dni

wc – 13.5k

moodboard | fic playlist

summary – after several heartbreaks and failed dates, you promised yourself you wouldn’t try and fall in love again. but a certain doctor that you have known for years, who visits you every eight weeks to buy flowers for his dates wants to prove you he is worth it, even with his questionable dating history.

warnings – romcom vibes, lots of fluffy and angst. no smut but sexual innuendos and sexual tension. age gap (reader in her thirties, robby in his early fifties), idiots in love and flirting galore. robby’s sabbatical. feelings of being unworthy and all of what comes with that, insecurity, jealousy, talks about about grief, suicide and suicide ideation, psychiatric hold and therapy. noelle is a bit bitchy but she only has her best intentions at heart.

she/her pronouns and afab!reader. reader is described to have some softness on her stomach, but other than that no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity. all lowercase for styling purposes.

a/n – heyyy! all i can say is fucking finally. this took me three weeks to write after falling victim of a horrible writer’s block. you know this kicked my ass because i made a moodboard and playlist for it. also, me, writing something without smut? it’s more likely than you think! i’m a horny whore but i’m a romantic one. on a serious note though, i wanted to write something cute and sweet for once.

hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading 🤎

dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/strangergraphics

petal & bloom sits on the corner of smallman and 25th.

a quaint little flower shop that survived the passage of time. it has been there since 1971, the year your grandmother left her first husband, fleeing a rather toxic relationship with nothing but a few thousand bucks she saved over the years and your – at the time, five year old – mother by her side. the shop was passed down by generations, always being run by the women of the family, who occasionally would make their partners work on their days off with them.

it was the place where they met their life partners too.

grandma met her second husband on a wednesday. the typical tall, dark and handsome man, good looking and a sweet talker, he fled the army after refusing to go to the vietnam war. new to the city, he walked in with an attitude and a newspaper in hand, asking about the chef position they had announced that morning. your grandma rolled her eyes, pointed to the diner on the other side of the street and told him he was at the wrong spot. he told her he was exactly where he wanted to be.

your mom met your dad on a friday. it was an early afternoon, one where winter had already left and spring brought in its warmer breeze. your mother was helping your grandmother after school when in came your dad, a bit out of breath with a panicked look on his face. when asked how she could help him, dad told her it was his mom’s fortieth birthday and he had no idea what to gift her. a game of twenty questions later, he left with the biggest bouquet he had ever seen and a box of fancy belgian chocolate.

he came back the next day to thank your mom and ask her on a date and they have been together ever since.

you… well, you are painfully single. by choice, obviously. after one too many heartbreaks and countless awful dates later, you gave up on finding love and started having “it will happen when it happens” as your mantra.

but you loved your job. and you loved your customers. new or regulars, you treated every single one their orders like the most important one you had ever gotten.

after being around for fifty four years, petal & bloom had amassed a few trustworthy regulars, ones you knew the orders by heart.

there is mr. fabbri, an eighty year old italian man that comes around every ten days for his white roses, always telling you how happy his wife gets with the flowers and always has an anecdote about the days your grandma ran the shop.

marie has also been a regular since your childhood. she is a sweet lady that always brings you some sort of baked goods whenever she visits. she comes in once a month, always getting a bouquet with at least one sunflower or hydrangea, her favourite flowers.

don’t tell anyone, but zoya is probably your favourite one. she comes in every two weeks, always on saturdays. she is two years younger than you, moved into the city three years ago after she quit her job and decided to become a content creator. she is funny and quirky, loves to choose the flowers with you, but asks to always have a red anthurium in her bouquet.

then there is michael. michael robinavitch, fifty four years old, a doctor at the pittsburgh medical center. objectively handsome, quiet but a good conversationalist when you are the one to begin the conversation. he is not one to share much about himself, but you know he likes craft beer and motorcycles.

you had heard stories here and there about his grandmother. apparently she was one of the regulars during the time your grandma and your mom ran the shop, always coming once a week to get her flowers, occasionally coming in with her quiet, but handsome grandson.

after you took over, michael started coming in, sporadically, around eight years ago, getting bouquets for janey and then heather. he always texted, asked what flowers were in season, ordered his bouquets, arrived around seven thirty to fetch it and always paid in cash.

things took a turn sometime around two years ago. michael changed his routine drastically and started coming around the shop every eight weeks, asking for the same bouquet: five pink tulips, three light pink ranunculus, one soft orange hyacinth, baby breaths and eucalyptus leaves for greens. accompanied by a card that always said “just a small hint that I’m hoping this isn’t a one-time thing.

– m. robinatvitch.”

the only thing that changed were the people they were addressed to. jack, julienne, olivia, brendon, jesse, and on, and on, and on. you have truly lost count by now.

eight weeks have passed since his last buy, and when the thought of it comes across your mind, a notification appears with another one of his messages.

michael robinavitch: Good morning. Sorry I didn’t order it sooner, but I need one of the usuals for today. Picking it up at 7:30. Card to Noelle. Cash.

the message makes you laugh. the contrast between the ones he sends now to the first ones are enormous. the first few were careful, had intent on it. he asked about the flowers, asked if you could send pictures, told you how many of each he wanted in the bouquet. typed the full note, even if it was always the same. but time passed by, and bit by bit the messages became shorter and shorter. he didn’t ask for pictures anymore, didn’t type out the note he wanted nor the flowers’ quantities.

sometimes you wonder if he just trusted you or if he simply didn’t care to put effort in it anymore.

you shake your head and finally reply to him.

← Of course, Michael. ← Thank you for your order! 🩷💐

robby remembers the first time he visited petal & bloom with his grandmother.

baba kept a pretty vase on top of her dinner table. a pretty crystal vase with an intricate pattern made of the fancy glass itself, that always had a pretty flower bouquet on it.

every saturday the bouquets would change. robby knew they came from somewhere, but he always wondered from where, since he and baba had a very strict routine on saturdays.

once he saw a man delivering it, and wondered if he was his baba’s boyfriend.

every shabbat his grandmother would take him to the synagogue for the shacharit. right after the service, baba would take him out for lunch at a diner nearby. after lunch, she took him to a candy store and let him choose whatever he wanted.

robby had just turned twelve. it was a late spring afternoon, the kind where the breeze is warmer, announcing the impending arrival of the summer. his ice cream was melting faster than he could eat it, and the sticky feeling was starting to bother him, when baba told him she was taking him someplace new.

the flower shop wasn’t far from the ice cream shop they went to; in fact, robby remembered passing by it several times before, always being curious about how it looked inside.

he was bombarded by different smells and the cold breeze of the air conditioner. robby remembers the older lady that greeted his baba till this day, her big smile and her warmth, he also remembers the older girl that sat on the cash register, taking orders and getting money back.

after that day, the petal & bloom stop became an obligatory one on their saturdays.

even after growing up, robby kept going there. petal & bloom was the place where he got his first bouquet for his first girlfriend, the place still kept going to buy the saturday flowers when his baba wasn’t strong enough to buy it herself anymore, it was one of the few places where he felt welcomed.

petal & bloom was the one familiar place that was still standing after everything and everyone he knew and loved left.

robby also remembers the first time he saw you. he hadn’t been around the shop in ages, his grandma had died and his dating life had been non existent for the last few years. he wasn’t even sure if the shop still existed, but he finally had scored a date with janey, a beautiful woman he had met at the market and wanted to give her something special.

to his surprise, the shop still stood there. a few changes were made, a little renovation to keep it up to date, but it still had the same comforting aura it had years and years ago.

another thing that surprised him was your presence. when robby walked in that early thursday afternoon, he found you and talia chatting.

talia was your high school best friend, the one that followed you everywhere, that was with you through everything. so when your mother decided to retire and left petal & bloom all to yourself, talia dropped everything to help you with your new endeavour.

robby stood in the middle of the shop looking a little awkward and he thinks you and talia took pity on him when you greeted him. he made his order, first asking about the freshest flowers you had, talked about his date and somehow, the little interaction the three of you had soothed him.

and like that, an old tradition came back to his life. much like when he was a teen, he got his dates flowers from petal & bloom, when janie or heather mentioned wanting to buy flowers, he ran to the shop, he even got a few as gifts for his friends. even after he felt like his life had lost its plot, he still got the comfort of visiting you.

the ride from the PTMC to petal & bloom always felt like getting into an alternate reality. crossing the allegheny river brought him this weird sense of peace, like his problems were inexistent, even for fifteen minutes only.

it also brought him to you, someone he doesn’t really understand his feelings towards.

robby thought you were beautiful from the moment he met you. at first, he chastised himself because of the obvious age gap, but time went on and more and more he became a victim of your quick wit and strong personality. robby never acted on it, he knew better than to, something inside him didn't want to fuck up the one relationship that made him feel a sliver of normalcy.

robby parks his motorcycle in front of the shop. he is about to hop down when he sees you inside from the big window, shaking your head. he opens the door and the bell above it announces his arrival.

“you are not taking the flowers on that death trap.” you tell him without even turning around, adding a couple of finishing touches to his bouquet.

robby smiles. “well, good evening to you too.”

“seriously, mike. it’s going to fuck the bouquet up.” you pout. “i worked really hard on it.”

you hand robby the flowers and he hands you the cash in exchange, fingers touching yours for a second or two too long.

“your work is safe, honey. not the first time i’m doing this.” robby smiles.

you huff. “fine, i hope noelle likes petalless flowers.”

robby gives you a full belly laugh and squeezes the hand you propped on the counter. “see you around, sweetheart.”

october 06, 2026

fourteen weeks go by since you last saw michael. six more than usual. summer said its goodbyes, autumn arrived slowly, bringing in the promise of a harsh winter.

michael had always been very methodical, almost like he followed a schedule, so when a month and two weeks passed by without news of him, you worried.

he very rarely opened up about his life, you knew he was a doctor and knew about his grandmother from bits and pieces your mother told you about her, and the rare tibdibs he threw on the fast exchanges you had whenever he picked up his orders. michael never mentioned friends, all you knew about his dates were the names he asked you to write on the cards.

it wasn’t always like this. when he first started coming after you took over the shop, michael would always stay and chat for a bit. he told you about his daily life, how things were going at the hospital and with janey or heather. you met both of them, and even met jake, janey’s son that robby treated like his own.

then COVID came. all you did was funeral arrangements for almost a year, most of your regulars would only text you to ask how you were and tell everything was ok.

except for michael.

you knew his personal life became non-existent as a frontline worker, knew better than to bother him, but every night you asked the universe to protect him. then, on one late sunday evening, your phone rings. you were almost passed out on the couch watching some rerun episodes of broad city as a pick me up when your phone shrilled. michael’s name flashed across the screen and bile rose on your throat. he never called, always opted for a quick text since his job was always so busy.

the line was silent for too long. you called his name more than once when you finally got a sigh back. mike’s voice was small, hoarse, barely there. he cried like you never heard anyone cry, told you adamson had died and asked you for flowers.

the next time you saw him was four months later, in january 2021. the michael you saw was not the one you met three years prior; he looked tired, his big brown eyes that once were bright and full of life were sad, he barely shared about his daily life, always opting for a quick grab and go. things got worse after he broke up with heather and you could see him losing it bit by bit during his bi-monthly visits.

you hope he is better, hope that those five weeks with no show means he finally settled down or decided to work on himself.

today is busier than usual for an october day. seems like everyone in the city decided to either get married, have a birthday or get a job promotion. the store’s phone rang with messages non stop, the little ping! sounds making you lose the last bit of sanity you had.

it’s almost four in the afternoon when you are finally able to sit down. the coffee you had poured for yourself early that morning remains untouched, and the lunch you brought is safely tucked inside the fridge.

you go through the new messages, replying and inserting the orders on the store’s crm system so you can work on it when the delivery date arrives.

one specific chat catches your eyes.

michael robinavitch: Hey, how have you been? I know I kind of went missing, will tell you what happened in person. need the usual for today, 7:30. michael robinavitch: Card for Charlotte.

humming, you stare at the message for a while, reading it with a mix of feelings you can’t really describe. you answer without thinking about it further.

← Hey! Good to know you’re alive. And no worries, your 7:30 usual will be waiting for you.

“shit!” you exclaim. you reread the message a million times, something about it makes you feel like you are being passive aggressive, and the last thing you want is to make michael think like you are pissed at him.

and maybe you are, but that is beside the point.

you are about to delete the message when a “👍🏻” appears underneath it.

oh well, the damage is done.

your whole body is sore. your feet can’t bear you standing up anymore, your back is screaming, asking to get cracked into place and you got the biggest headache you have had in years. it is almost 8:00, michael had texted you an hour or so ago telling you he would be a few minutes late. you are so lost in your world of pain that you don’t hear the bell ringing.

“you ok?” a familiar voice asks, startling you. it makes you jump.

“don’t fucking do that again.” you tell michael, running your right hand in circles around your chest to soothe yourself.

“sorry.”

“it’s fine. just had a busy day, that’s all.” you tell him, getting up to go grab his flowers.

“where’s talia?” he asked, propping his elbows on the counter.

“she finally got that position at the new york times.” you hand him the bouquet. “she left a few days after you did.” michael is about to grab the flowers when you stop and give him a once over. he looks better than he did in years, well rested, some colour on his cheeks, the bags around his eyes are long gone. his hand engulfs yours and it makes you start talking again. “thought you had finally settled down, you vanished. what happened?”

michael looks at you with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t describe in his eyes, he shakes his head and takes the bouquet out of your hands with care. “i went on a sabbatical.”

“really?!” the answer takes you back, but when you look at him again, you realise that that’s the image of a man that has the time to work on some of his demons. he nods and you continue. “that’s good to hear, mike. you look better.”

heat creeps on his face, tinging his cheeks red and he gives you one of his shy smiles. “thanks. i really needed this time off.”

michael pays you and an awkward lull fills the space. you smile at him again and say “it’s good to have you back. just don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

he squeezes the hand that was besides his. “of course not, sweetheart. see you around.”

november 09, 2026.

michael sat on his car, the words his therapist said during their session still echoing in his mind.

robby came across them unwillingly. it was just another fourth of july shift, the ED turned into a bigger mess after a cyber attack that closed all neighbouring hospitals. all patients and emergencies were transferred to the PTMC, baran came in a day earlier without telling and he had a hard time trusting his substitute. frank showed up, tried to apologise to him in every way possible, his friend duke who was supposed to show up at 03p.m. arrived a couple of hours later, emma was attacked by a drunk patient on her first day, resulting on dana administering a shot of unprescribed versed on said patient.

he was supposed to leave by 07p.m. on the dot.

michael needed to leave. he had to leave.

robby felt like the walls were closing in on him, he knew that the sooner he left for his one way trip, the better. his mind felt like a tick time bomb with his resolve vanishing bit by bit as the seconds ticked away. he can’t remember what happened, if he did something that gave away his plans or if told someone something that could set the alarms off, the only memories of that day were jack telling him to call when things got dark, mckay telling him to not stand too close to the edge, jack following him around the ED after he arrived for his shift and robby, not long after, being put on psychiatric hold on behavioural 02.

michael had a hard time accepting what happened. he was fine, why would his best friend stab his back like that? he begged and begged, told gloria that he was fine, to let him go, that he would come back in three months like planned.

days passed by, dana and jack visited him and anger consumed robby, hateful words left his lips as he tried to push away the people that worried about him.

river appeared in his life on the second day of his hold. robby had been transferred to a private room and in the early hours of the afternoon and caleb showed up with river in tow.

river was a thirty-something tiny thing that, when caleb first introduced them to robby, made robby laugh.

“this is ridiculous.” he shook his head. “i have traumas older than them, caleb.” robby said, incredulous.

“good thing long term trauma is my area of expertise, michael.” river said, grabbing robby’s attention. they shot him a condescending smile and robby was torn between being offended and amused.

“river is young but they are one of the best professionals i’ve ever met. you’re in good hands, michael.” caleb told robby and ran his new weekly schedule with him before leaving michael with river for their first session.

the first week of sessions was spent in silence, five days of robby refusing to open his mouth. river was used to this; they had been working with 302 patients since their med school days, robby’s reaction being completely normal given the situation he was in, the older man needed that time to himself, needed the time to accept his new, but temporary, reality.

after their fifth session, river seeked jack out. they sat down with the night attending, talked about his friend for hours to gather every bit of information about what robby liked.

so imagine robby’s surprise when river arrived with a copy of “zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance: an inquiry into values”. they talked, river expertly applied the book’s teachings to robby’s life and they finally won michael’s trust.

and just like that, robby made significant progress in a short period of time.

michael was released after a month with the conditions of keeping going to therapy twice a week and finding a hobby that had nothing to do with his job.

so, for a month and some days, every monday, wednesday and friday mornings were spent at duke's bike shop, with robby’s arms covered in grease and the easy companionship of his friend.

tuesdays and thursdays were therapy days, from nine to eleven robby would sit in front of river and chat his problems away. it wasn’t linear, some days were easy, robby felt like all the weight of the world were lifted off his shoulders, some days he left feeling like he was helpless.

two months in, river loosened robby’s leash. they allowed him to take the trip, with the conditions of it not being longer than two weeks, to be made by plane or that he drove there with his car – robby tried his best to bargain, to prove himself capable of riding his bicycle, to no avail – and that he shared his location with someone he trusted all of the duration of the trip. michael also had to give said friend proof of life twice a day. the lucky one ended up being jack.

and of course, his therapy sessions had to keep happening religiously, this time over zoom.

river knew they were taking a shot in the dark, knew that it was probably too early for michael to go on a long distance trip alone, one that he had planned to take his life on, but their therapist intuition also knew that robby needed to leave the one place that reminded him of all the bad things that had happened during his fifty four years of life.

and fifteen days later, the michael that crossed the threshold of their practice was a new man.

robby still had his demons, still had a lot to work on, especially when it came to his relationships.

so, on his first day back, river asked robby to list everyone he wanted to make amends with.

the list consisted of:

jake

heather collins

jack abbot

dana evans

frank langdon

you

so, weeks went by, robby talked about everyone with river, made the exercise of reaching out, grabbed a coffee with jake, beers with jack and a barbecue at langdon’s house, finally meeting his dog. robby took dana to the diner where they would have dinner together almost every night when they were both babies at the pitt, and had the longest facetime call of his life with heather, finally meeting her baby boy.

michael forgave and allowed himself to be forgiven. said his i’m sorry’s and his i love you’s.

robby talked about everyone, except for you. and that was the topic of today’s therapy session.

river was the one to bring it up, obviously. they questioned robby, asked why was your name on the list and why robby had never mentioned you until now.

robby froze, babbled as words failed him.

“ok, let’s make this easier” river said, taking their glasses off and crossing their legs. they said your name. “who is she in your life?”

“she is the florist i’ve been buying flowers for my dates for the past eight years. it’s a family business, i used to go there with my baba as a child.”

river nodded. “do you need to apologise to her or to your grandmother?”

“to her. this isn’t some unresolved shit with my grandmother.” robby answered, annoyed. three months working with river and he still found himself pressed by certain topics. “i hadn’t gone there in ages. well, ever since baba died. i left pittsburgh, came back and didn’t even know the place still existed until eight years ago when i started dating again.”

river’s pen worked with precision against their notebook and robby wanted to rip his hair out with the sight.

“alright, so you buy your dates’ flowers from her, why do you need to make amends with her?”

robby bit the inside of his cheek so hard it almost drew blood. “because i was going to leave without saying goodbye. because i was going to kill myself and the one person that cares about me outside of the hell hole i live wouldn’t know. she texted me almost daily during covid to know how i was doing. she never judged me, always left an open space for me to talk and i took it for granted. i could see in her eyes how worried she was with me every time i stopped by the shop.” robby shook his head.

“i bought flowers for that date i had last month, and went there to pick them up as usual. poor thing was so tired and i scared her, but the sigh of relief she let out when she saw me was painful. she told me that i looked better, that it was good to have me back, for me to not go missing again. it fucking broke me.” robby’s voice was barely above a whisper. he took a deep breath and exhaled. “i think i love her, river.”

the confession made river sit straight, and the therapist closed their notebook and uncrossed their legs. river ran a hand over their face and looked at robby for a few silent seconds. “is this feeling new?”

robby shook his head.

“how long have you felt this way?”

“i don’t know, a little over two years?” robby sighed. “after heather, i think. i always thought she was beautiful and funny but the feelings only showed up after my last serious relationship.”

river nodded slowly, as if trying to make sense of the informations. “and you never acted on it because…?”

“at first, the age gap. she’s in her thirties and i felt awful about it, like a perverted old man.” robby gave a lame laugh. “than i ran into her while she was on a couple of dates, both men were older. one kind of resembled me, i might add,” he told river, shaking one finger to give the statement more emphasis. river laughed. “then when she was single, i wasn’t and vice-versa. until one day i overheard her talking to a friend about not going to any dates anymore because she was tired of falling into traps and i knew i wasn’t in a good place, so i decided her friendship was more important.”

“and now? what are you going to do?” river asks.

robby draws his shoulders up, almost touching his ears. he shakes his head, his voice failing him. “i don’t know, river. i don’t want to fuck this up… i can’t fuck up the only relationship i have that hasn’t been tainted yet.”

“i say you should ask her on a date.” river says and robby shoots them a look. “the worst thing that could happen is her say that she’s not interested and you two keep being friends.”

“she knows about my not so stellar love life, man.” robby tells his therapist, looking like a kicked puppy with his big eyes.

“then show her you’re a changed man.”

robby finds himself outside of petal & bloom. looking into the big window that oversees most of the storefront, he finds you working on an arrangement. you are moving around, bobbing your head as your lips sing along to a song.

he finally opens the door, the bell that announces new visitors catches your attention this time.

you turn around, and your expression goes from excited to a frown in seconds. it makes michael a little queasy.

it has been a little over a month since the last time he came in, and there is still another month to go by until he was supposed to come in for his usual. “hey, mike! have you sent an order? didn’t see any come in, i’m sorry.”

“no, not really. i was in the neighbourhood and just wanted to see you.”

the confession makes you warm all over and stuns you a bit, leaving you speechless. “that’s sweet of you.”

michael nods and you can see he is a little bit nervous.

“what are you making?” he points to the vase you were working on when he arrived.

“oh, it’s an arrangement. their manager is finally retiring and she loves flowers, so they ordered this one.”

robby nods in acknowledgment. “it’s beautiful. as everything you do always is.”

you snort. “thanks.”

michael looks around anxiously, thinking about what to say. “what’s your favourite flower?”

“oh. hold on!” you beamed and it made michael smile. you make way to the room michael had always wondered how it looked like since he was a child, the storage. you come back with a waxy looking red and white flower. “this is an anthurium. people usually overlook her but i think she’s amazing. and i know i’m not supposed to have favourite clients but zoya comes here every other saturday and her arrangements always have to have one and i love making those.” you grimace after your last statement. “sorry.”

michael gives you an earnest laugh. “it’s fine, sweetheart. my heart is not broken, just cracked a little bit.” it makes you giggle and michael feels like he has won the lottery. “what makes it your favourite?”

you squint at him. “honestly?” he nods. “it’s such a crass reason, but it’s because it looks like a vulva. see,” you run a delicate finger around the edge of the spathe and across the spadix. “the shape of the petal and this little guy here. also, she’s a bisexual flower, meaning she can self pollinate.”

michael clears his throat and you look at him, seeing the red creeping from his neck up. “too much?”

he laughs. “no. as a lover of the female anatomy, i agree with you. can you make me something with one of those?”

“good. and of course, give me a second.”

you go back inside the storage and come back with an array of colourful flowers following a red, white, pink and orange palette.

robby watches you work in awe and, not even ten minutes later, you turn around with one of the most beautiful arrangements he had ever seen.

you set the vase in front of him, point to each flower as you called their names. “orchid, rose, protea, chrysanthemum and, of course, anthurium. and a little eucalyptus leaves for contrast.”

“this is beautiful, sweetheart.”

“thanks! i hope the lucky one that gets this thinks so too.”

“this one is mine. how much do i owe you?”

the answer shocks you, but you don’t show. you ring robby in and, for the first time, he pays you with apple pay.

“thank you for the–“

“do you wanna go on a date with me?” robby interrupts you.

you start laughing and robby raises an eyebrow. “oh my god, you’re being serious!”

“i am, honey.”

you sigh. this is a question that the you of a few years back would be thrilled to be asked. the you of today? well, you had your qualms about it. “mike, i think you are a beautiful man and an incredible guy, but i’m your florist. i’ve been following your dating pattern, closely, for the past couple of years and i just don’t want to be another plaything to make your life exciting for the next eight weeks.”

your words hit michael in the face like a punch. he knew this could happened, in fact, the prepared himself to hear similar words on his way to the shop, but no pep talk in the world could ever actually make him immune to them.

but river’s words echoed in his head.

“let me show you i’m a changed man.”

you look at him. really look at him and he looks even better than he did the month before. but still, external changes don’t always mean internal ones have also happened.

“let’s make a deal. ask me again in eight weeks. if the feeling still is the same, i’ll go on a date with you.” you extend a hand to him.

michael smiles, extending one of his own to close the contract. “deal.”

november 14, 2026.

your phone rings incessantly on the counter while you got your hand covered by steel gloves and pollen. you look up, glancing towards the clock above you, it marks 10:30.

the day talia told you about moving to new york, the two of you, after a long crying session, promised each other that you would have a weekly phone call every saturday morning, around 10:30. no excuses were accepted, rain or shine, hungover or not, 10:30 would hit and one would be calling the other.

you pull the glove out with your teeth, instantly regretting when the texture and the taste hit your lips, and pressed the call acceptance button.

“hey, babe. how are you?” you hear talia’s groggy voice asking you, ratting her hangover out.

“good, i’m good. how much did you have to drink last night?”

she giggles. “a lot. finally slept with paul.”

you stop and turn to face the screen of your telephone. “bitch, no way!”

“yes way, bitch!” she squeals and you can hear her slapping her mattress.

“is he there? how did it go?”

“oh, it was fantastic.” she sighed and laid sideways, propping a hand under her head. “he’s big everywhere and he knows how to use it. and he’s not here, i went back to his after the bar and left after, you know.”

“mhm.”

the conversation goes on for a while, talia telling you about the date, how paul had asked her out, about work and life in new york in general. you tell her about the shop and how the customers miss her.

almost two weeks had passed by and you still haven’t told her about michael’s proposal, knowing fully well she will pester you to accept the date already. you think about it twice, mutters a “fuck it” and tell her anyway.

“tali, something happened a couple of weeks back that i haven’t told you about. i need you to listen first and let me finish before you say anything.

“girl, you are scaring me. is someone dying?”

you make an ugly noise and shake your head. “michael came in two mondays ago, all sweet and shit. asked what my favourite flower was and why, asked me to make him an arrangement with one, then asked me on a date and i–“

“BITCH–“

“bitch, shut up and let me finish.” you sigh. “i said no.”

“why? did you tell him the vulva story?” talia asked. she knows you too well. unfortunately.

“yes, i did. and girl, you know his dating history, i don’t want to be another notch on his belt.”

she looks at you, stretching the silence. “say something.” you beg.

“babe, you’ve had a massive crush on him for ages. and yeah, i agree with you that it could go south in six to eight weeks but if he still asked you out after the vulva story, that man is crazy about you.” you stare at each other for a little and talia says “live a little.”

“i live a lot and you know that.” you frown.

“yeah, but how long has it been since you’ve felt the strong hands of a man or sat on a d–“

“okay, point taken.” you finish tying the bouquet that is supposed to the delivered at noon and start talking again. “i made a deal with him. if he still feels the same after eight weeks, i’ll go on a date with him.”

“and he agreed to it?”

“instantly. shook my hand and all.”

“girl, there’s your answer, he’s serious about this. you told me yourself that he looks healthier. maybe he’s in therapy or something.” the bell on the door rings, shifting talia’s focus. “who is there?”

you grab your phone, switching to the back camera to show michael in all of his six foot something glory, holding a pizza box and a bag with what you imagine to be sodas.

“mikey! i miss you, old man”

“miss you too, tali. how’s new york treating you?”

“it’s been great. i miss pittsburgh though. is that giuseppe’s pizza?”

“yes, it is.” michael says, way too please with himself.

“ooof, bringing out the big guns, i see. i’ll leave you two to your date.” talia winks at you.

“this is not a date.” you quip.

“could be.” michael says.

and talia completes. “if you weren’t so stubborn.”

“okay, talia. you said you had to be going, right?”

“no, i didn’t, but i will. besides, paul is texting me and i plan on hopping on that dick again today. you should do the same. bye, mikey. bye, bitch.”

“bye, talia.”

you don’t even have time to say anything as talia purposely hang the call, knowing you would give her a piece of your mind.

when you finally look up at michael, you find him red as a pepper.

“sorry about that.”

“it’s alright. i take it you told her about our deal.”

“mhm.” you nod and leave it at that.

michael looks at you with such fondness in his eyes that makes your knees want to buckle, but you hold up.

he lifts his hands. “pepperoni pizza from giuseppe’s. your favourite, right? i remember you talking about it with tali.”

you nod again, feels like it is all your body can do right now. “thank you.”

“and pepsi. even though i think coke is better.” he says.

you squint your eyes. “this is not a date, michael.”

he smiles and it reaches his eyes. “okay, it isn’t. just me stopping by to see you.”

you study him. the toothy smile is sweet and it makes him look like a little quokka. you almost overthink your choices, but you are smarter than that.

“fine, but you’re going to make yourself useful. get back here and help me with the register.”

“yes ma’am.” michael says and the look in his eyes make it seem like he had just won the lottery the second time.

november 24, 2026.

“good morning!” you hear the familiar gravel voice greet. turning to your left, you find michael walking down the sidewalk with cups of coffee and what looks like an overfilled bag of pastries.

you take him in, the smile that now reaches his eyes, the lines that adorn those beautiful brown orbs and how he looks a bit fuller now. you glance down to your apple watch and find it marking 9:50a.m.

“morning, mike.” you greet him back fumbling with the lock. the damned thing has been stuck for months, giving you a run for your money every morning.

“let me take a look, sweetheart.” michael says, finally by your side. he hands you the coffee and the pastry bag, taking the keys from you.

it is ridiculous how fast he opens it, with just a couple of twists and turns that you were sure you had done the same. michael opens the door, steps to the side and tuts his head for you to come in.

“your dexterous doctor fingers really come in handy.” you say as you step inside, walking around the room and turning all the lights on.

michael chuckles behind you and props his hips on the counter by your side. “they work really well for many things.” he tells you with a sly smile on his lips as he wiggles his fingers in front of your face. you shake your head and snort.

michael hands you a cup and you take a sip, tasting the best cappuccino you have ever had. he tears the paper bag and opens it in a makeshift tray, spreading the baked goods over it. you grab a cinnamon roll.

“you’re really serious about this, huh?” you say, pointing between the two of you. you truly thought he would just let the eight weeks pass and come back in case he hadn’t lost interest in you.

“i got a date with the most beautiful girl in pittsburgh to win, don’t i?”

“mm, i like the way you think.” you say as you start the system and turn the store’s phone on. “how good are you with customer service?”

“if my patient satisfaction score is anything to go by, not that good.” he tells you with a sheepish smile.

“awesome!” you give one single clap. “just be your charming self and don’t scare my customers away.”

for about an hour or so, you sit down with michael and teach him everything about the crm system and how to work the orders through the messages, how to input orders and send mass sms texts and an easier way of working the register than how he was doing the last time he visited you.

and, surprisingly, michael is incredibly good at it. he barely interrupts you to clear up a doubt, only doing it to ask if you work with certain flowers or if you can do certain types of arrangements the client is asking for.

he even got a hold of your forgotten white board and sticky notes and developed a colour coded system. the board was divided into eight columns, each vertical line dedicated to one hour, and the sticky notes categorised the orders; green for bouquets, yellow for arrangements, purples for combos/goodie baskets and pinks for last minute orders.

the way he beamed when you thanked him and told his idea was going to help you so much is going to be forever ingrained in your brain.

michael’s charm also worked, well, like a charm. it was ridiculous watching him work, old ladies, young girls and some guys were practically drooling over him, wives making heart eyes at him while husbands seethed in jealousy. you even had to ask mike to grab some random basket you didn’t even need so you could take over the sale to a couple that the husband was seconds away from blowing a gasket over how giggly his wife was with michael simply explaining to them the types of combos you offered.

“did i do something wrong?” he asked when he came back, basket in hand as he watched the husband leave the store furious.

“nah, he’s just insecure.”

customers came and went and the bulk of the orders had already been picked up or delivered. sometime around noon, michael went out and bought lunch for the two of you, and you shared life stories while eating.

you are sitting down by the counter, scrolling through social media since you have already finished the day’s orders. michael is outside working on the faulty lock.

“robby?” you hear a male voice ask.

“what are you doing here?” now it was michael’s turn to question.

“i’m here to pick-up the flowers i ordered for mira. what are you doing here?”

“fuck. should’ve known that abbot, j. was you.” you hear michael curse and grumble.

“you still haven’t answered me.” the other man says and shoots a smile when you show up behind michael.

“is everything alright, mike?” you ask, one hand going over his left shoulder on instinct, and squeezing it.

“yeah, sweetheart. this is jack abbot, he’s a friend and my night shift attending physician at the PTMC. he’s here for the 3:30 peony combo.”

jack looks between you with curious eyes and a glint of happiness in them.

“oh, it’s so nice meeting you, jack. come in, your order is ready!”

jack shoots michael a smile and follows you inside.

you go over the arrangement with him, show him the flowers and tell they are as fresh as they can be, having arrived early this morning. you show him the chocolate and wine too, and ask him if he wants to keep those or change anything. he tells you everything is great, that his girlfriend will love your work and that he will be coming back. he looks at michael when he says this, and you are pretty sure that there is something else going on, but you don’t press on it.

he pays and you give him the pamphlet that teaches the best way to care for the flowers.

jack says his goodbyes and once again you tell him it was nice meeting him. michael follows him outside, but you decide not to pry on it.

“got a new job and forgot to tell us about it, mike?” jack asks, stressing the nickname you used to call him.

he can count on two fingers the people who call him that: jack and you.

jack goes on. “is she the girl you were talking about the other day?” robby had mentioned you to jack a couple of times before. said something about being interested in someone, about how amazing you are and how terrified he was of fucking it up.

robby nods. “just following my therapist’s orders.” he winces.

“that’s great, dude! she’s beautiful and seems like a good person. how long have you been together?”

“we haven’t.” robby laughs. “she’s giving me a run for my money.”

his friend joins him and laughs too. “honestly? those are the best. i’m sure she’s worth it.”

robby nods and a lovesick smile spreads on his face. “yeah, she is.”

jack hugs his friend. “i’m happy for you, man. but you gotta tell me all about this later.”

robby agrees and says goodbye.

michael makes his way back inside, only to find you with your elbows propped against the counter, hands holding each side of your face that has a rather mischievous smile adorning it.

“what?” he wonders.

“is this the same jack i’ve made a bouquet for before?”

robby turns pink instantly and only nods.

“huh. i get it now.”

“get what?”

“he’s hot.”

december 11, 2026.

it is a cold friday. snow made its descent last night, covering the streets in white. it is also your busiest friday of the month; the one before you get your three weeks off.

it seems counterintuitive since december is one of the busiest months, but it was a limit your single mom grandmother set for herself so she could spend some time with her daughter. so every december since its opening, petal & bloom works with orders only, taking no walk-ins, and hundreds of happy clients leave with their potted plants, arrangements, wreaths and garlands in the first two weeks of the month and you get your yearly three weeks of vacation.

“are we done?” katherine, one of the extras you had hired, asked.

“mhm. now all we have to do is give them to their new owners.” you answer her.

“oh, thank god.” owen complained by your side, making you laugh. “i can’t stand on my feet anymore.”

you glance at your watch and it changes from 2:59 to 3:00p.m.

“you guys should go home and rest for tomorrow. it’ll be our busiest day.” you say and tut your head towards the door as soon as michael comes in with the tray of cappuccino he went out to get for everybody. “mike and i can deal with the rest.”

the kids grab their belongings and the much needed coffee, thanking you and michael for the day and say their goodbye’s and see you later’s.

you and michael sit in silence, enjoying the hot beverage he brought and the lull that graces the shop now, knowing it will soon change when people start leaving their jobs in a couple of hours. your eyes are closed and the warmth of michael’s hand on your back is almost putting you to sleep. you sigh and let your forehead rest against the cool counter.

“you alright?” he asks

you nod, voice muffled by the position you are in as you speak. “just tired. i make the kids leave on time but keep working till god knows when. can’t remember the last time i’ve slept for eight hours straight.”

he huffs by your side and you turn your head to the right, right on time to see him hit the “pissed off mom” pose with a pointed look on his eyes and hands on his hips. it makes you get up, giggling.

“what?”

michael was about to speak when the bell rang. you turn around to find marie walking in, in full glory with her extravagant hairdo, vintage fur coat and red nails, bedazzled cane shining as she makes her way inside the shop.

“good afternoon, marie.”

“good afternoon, my darling. who is this handsome man we have here?” she says, pointing the foot of her cane towards michael.

“this is michael, he’s a good friend of mine.” you answer her with a smile.

“it’s nice to meet you, marie.” he tells her in that tone of voice that you are sure all of his older patients love.

“nice to meet you too, handsome.” she runs a hand over his arm and michael is red up to the tip of his ears. you smile at him. “but i thought you had finally found yourself a good man and brought him here to boss around like your mother and grandmother did.”

you and michael exchange looks and you can see the gears turning on his head.

“you know, marie. this one here bosses me around all day, and i’m not complaining! i like it when she’s bossy, but i cannot get a date with her as much as i try. you’ve got an advice for me?”

marie looks at the two of you. studies how you look at michael and how he looks at you. her face is void of any emotion, long gone is the warm expression she holds at all times. the silence stretches for way longer than what would be considered comfortable. it feels nerve wrecking.

and in a beat, she is back to her normal self.

“this girl loves you, but you have to show her you feel the same, that this isn’t just a game.”

michael nods and agrees with her. you feel like you have been caught, so you swallow, put a nonchalant face on and try your best to sound like this hasn’t affected you.

“we gotta make them work for it, don’t we, marie?”

“of course, my darling. that’s why my marriage lasted fifty years.”

michael and you smile at her and you can feel him look at you after, but don’t dare to look at him. like an expert, you change the course of conversation, and start talking about her order, a giant wreath filled with amaryllises, hellebores and skimmias.

she compliments your work, gushes about how you always outdo yourself and thanks you before she leaves with michael in tow, who carries the big box for her, helping marie accommodate it in her car.

michael comes back with a pensive face on, and you study him for a bit before returning the same question he asked you minutes before marie arrived. “you alright?”

he shakes his head, one hand caressing the back of his head, self soothing. “yeah, i’m fine. she just… reminded me a lot of my baba.”

you take michael on and notice how the confident demeanour he had minutes ago gave place to a frail one. tapping your nails on the counter, you consider your next move.

“wait here.” you tell him as you get up from your stool and make your way to your storage room to retrieve something you have found months ago.

“what is this?” michael asks when you hand him an old photo album.

“this was my grandma’s. i went to visit her a few weeks before your sabbatical and she was showing me all of these old photo albums from the time she opened the shop. she used to take pictures of her favourite clients with whatever they got.” you stop talking when he looks at you. michael’s eyes are rimmed with red and unshed tears. “i’ve been holding on to it for a while, wanted to give it to you but couldn’t find a proper time.”

he gives you a small nod and swallow, before opening the album.

michael has seen the bright pink arrow sticky notes marking a few pages, but he doesn’t rush it. he goes through the pages slowly and reads what is written beside each picture, stalling for the inevitable, preparing himself for what is to come.

the first sticky note marked picture shows his baba holding a bouquet of blue hydrangeas, irises, white roses, and yellow tulips, captioned with her name and a date, the one he was born, and “michael has finally arrived!”

she has the same smile he remembers her always sporting and something stirs inside of him.

he keeps on going and is met with several pictures of his grandmother and him in various moments of their lives. he stops by a specific one, groans and starts laughing.

“fuck, i remember this day like it was yesterday.” his fingers trace the picture and the writing that says “mikey got flowers for his first date! 07/12/1987.”

“i came here desperate because i had scored a date with the hottest girl in school, stacy williams, and didn’t know what to get her. your grandma was so happy for me, while your mom started laughing at my babbling.”

“classic her.” you added.

“yeah. but she was nice at the same time too, gave me a bunch of advice of what to and what not to do and made me the prettiest white and pink roses bouquet. turns out she was allergic to flowers and had this horrid allergic reaction and ended up in the hospital. never spoke to her again.” he laughs in defeat.

“oh my god. was she ok?”

“mhm, she just hated me after what happened and refused to talk to me.”

“oh,” you nod. “valid.”

he agrees with you. “thank you for this.” he shakes the album. “i miss her so much.”

you give him a side hug and michael finally lets his silent tears fall.

january 04, 2027.

first monday of the year. first day off after the holiday season and first therapy session in two weeks (river was on their holiday leave).

robby felt like shit, tired from two back to back weeks of hardcore shifts, on edge and thoughtful after a rather gruesome therapy session with river, where they touched subjects that refuses to even think about right now. all he wants is to go and spend the rest of the day in the shop with you.

even if there is a little something in the back of his head nagging him about it. he blames it on the stress.

the first few hours he spent with you were great. he found you waiting for him with a packed lunch that consisted in the best chilli con carne he had ever had, white rice, cornbread and coleslaw, and warm cherry pie for dessert.

it was as slow as the first monday of the year always is, just a few walk-ins here and there and the regulars like mr. fabbri. michael helped you around the shop, counted inventory, cleaned the displays and even swept the floors.

you tried not to think about how domestic that felt.

“you know, the eighth week is approaching.” michael tells you as he brings you a cup of coffee that he just made.

“really?” you say trying to feign nonchalance, but your playful, almost lovesick smile comes out.

between the non-dates and daily texts about nothing and everything, it is getting harder and harder to control your feelings for michael.

maybe talia has heard an earful about it.

“mhm. in five days.” he is awfully close to you when he speaks, too close you can smell the mix of coffee and his spearmint gum. his beautiful brown eyes are too big behind his prescription glasses, almost hypnotising you. it is charming and endearing at the same time.

whatever you were going to reply is cut off when he says. “god, i love this song.”

michael turns the sound system volume up a tone or two and starts giving you a very off key rendition of “a sunday kind of love” by etta james. he extends a hand, silently asking you for a dance, and when you are about to accept it, a voice bursts your bubble.

“what a beautiful sight.” comes from a gorgeous tall woman with the most beautiful naturally tan skin you had ever seen.

“welcome to petal & bloom.”

“noelle!”

you and michael say in unison and you notice the surprise in his voice and when you look at him, you see how his demeanour changed.

noelle. you know that name. you have made a very familiar bouquet and written a very familiar note addressed to it. but, unlike how it went with jack a month or so ago, the air feels charged.

you look back a michael and he is stuck in place, acting like he had been caught doing something wrong, so you put some distance between you two, swallow the lump on your throat and pull the friendly shop owner façade back on.

“how can i help you today, noelle?”

“i’m looking for a gift for a friend, it’s her birthday.” she says and you turn around the counter, guiding her to the combo display. you feel her looking back at michael when she says “you know, i was once gifted a bouquet from petal & bloom. it made me fall in love with your work.”

“thanks!” you try to be as warm as you can, but all you want to do is run away from there. “these are the pre-made combos we’ve got. they are all fresh, made this morning. if nothing suits what you are looking for, i’ll happily make one following your vision.”

she nods and walks around, looking what you had to offer. you make your way back to your place behind the counter and michael tries to touch your hand, but you give him a small, quick head shake and he retracts his fingers.

you feel queasy.

a couple of minutes pass by and she comes back with the yellow flowers arrangement and swiss pralineé combo. it is one of your favourite arrangements, filled with various tones of soft yellow flowers; scorpion orchids, roses, gerberas, billy buttons and strawflowers.

“that’s a great choice!” you say as she hands you the box.

“thanks. you haven’t been making great choices yourself, have you?” she counters, eyes flicking between you and michael.

“noelle…” michael whispers.

“michael and i are just friends.” the excuse that was once playful now feels bitter on your lips.

she smiles at you and it is not a mocking one, it almost feels pitiful. “honey, i’m a fifty four year old woman, i know what the scene i walked in looked like. take what i have to say as an older woman advice: even if you two are just friendly, the feelings clearly exist. robby has a mean seven week fling streak and the endings are always bleak, trust me, i’ve been there. don’t let yourself get in too deep.”

too fucking late.

you finish ringing her in silence. she apple pay’s you and on autopilot you say “thank you for choosing petal & bloom!”

she gives you a sad smile and walks away without even looking at michael again.

he calls your name and puts a hand on the small of your back that you promptly slaps away. you don’t see the devastated look he has on his face as your rummage the bottom of the register for the old, probably past expiration date pack of marlboro red that you kept there from the time you used to smoke. you grab your coat and make your way outside.

you don’t really go anywhere, just sit on your haunches in front of the shop’s window.

the first hit goes down scratching your throat and burning your lungs, but you don’t cough. the conversation replays on your head countless times and you start overanalysing the last couple of months.

“sweetheart, it’s cold. come inside.” michael tells you from the door. you shake your head. “c’mon, baby. i need to talk to you.”

you get up, walk past him without acknowledging his presence and back down on your trusty stool. michael sighs before making his way towards you. he doesn’t sit by your side like he did before, but stands in front of you.

“noelle was my last relationship before the sabbatical. i broke up with her on the fourth of july moments before i left for the trip.”

“why?” you ask and he grimaces.

“because i wasn’t going to come back.” michael exhales. “i was going to take my own life.”

you are speechless and the only thing that leaves your lips is a broken “mikey.”

he takes this as an advantage to be honest with you. so he tells you about everything that happened. about the month he was held on the psychiatric hold and how jack was the one to intervene, that he never left for the sabbatical on the fourth, about river and therapy and how he feels about you, that he did end up making the trip much later than intended and with the restrictions set by his therapist, that he still has his highs and lows, but helping you around the shop and seeing you almost every week has been the highlight of his days. michael says that not many people know about this, only jack, dana and the board of directors, and that that is what might have prompted noelle’s reaction. he is still talking, you hear his voice and sees his mouth moving, but the words “i was going to take my own life” keeps flashing behind your eyes. michael is saying something about how his terrible love life is a product of abandonment when you hug him tight over the counter.

“i’m glad you are here with me.” you tell him, voice muffled by his chest. you feel it rumble with his soft laughter.

you pull back to look at him with mascara running down your face. michael wipes your tears.

“i should probably send jack some flowers.” you wonder.

michael laughs again, happier this time. “yeah, honey.”

january 20, 2027.

michael hasn’t been to the shop in over two weeks. but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen each other that long.

after the talk you had that monday, michael helped you close petal & bloom and drove you home. he said that he would be giving you some time to let you think after everything that happened that day.

of course talia heard all about it in a face time call that lasted over four hours. she understood you, validated your feelings and agreed that the whole noelle incident was enough to not go with things further. but she also pointed out michael’s honesty and how he is constantly putting work on himself and on you, and that, if she were you, she would give him the chance he had been working so hard to get.

about a week in you finally text him, asking how he had been doing, about work and his next day off and next thing you knew, he had asked you out for drinks. in a non date, of course.

the night went great. you guys talked like nothing had happened, he apologised again and told you he would be having a few back to back shifts the next week, but that he would be visiting you again as soon as he had a day off.

you can’t remember how you got to the topic of family, but after a few beers in, you casually told him that you talked about him to your nana and your mother.

“maybe you should introduce me as your boyfriend next time.” he said it so casually that even himself was stunned.

michael was about to apologise when you smiled at him, brought the beer bottle to your lips and said “i’ll think about it.” before downing the drink.

he texted you around thirty minutes ago to let you know he had just gotten out of therapy and that he was buying lunch and asked “lebanese or indian?”, to which you answered “lebanese, please.”

you are watering the pots when he finally arrives, kissing your cheek as he beelines for the tiny kitchen. “god, i’m starving!” he exclaims. katherine and owen look at you with sly smiles and you notice, shake your head as you walk past them, saying something about taking turns.

it is a somewhat calm day, valentine’s day orders are starting to come in after you posted this year’s campaign on petal & bloom’s social media, but nothing out of the ordinary for a late january wednesday.

“what are you reading?” you ask michael as you come back from the storage with an assortment of flowers. he turns and shows you on the road by kerouac, the sight of his big bug eyes behind his readers makes that familiar warmth that you don’t dare name bloom inside you once again.

“that’s a good one.” you say and wait a bit. michael always got lost in his reading. “wanna learn how to make a bouquet?”

“really?” he asks excitedly.

“mhm.” you hum and tut your head, giving him some space to join you on your work bench.

“in floristry we have what is called the “3-5-8 rule,” you begin the explanation.

“that’s the fibonacci sequence, isn’t it?” he asks.

“yes, it is. good boy.” you say, only to find michael beet red after the praise. it makes you smirk, but you continue like nothing has happened. “this is a formula created to make well balanced designs. it’s basically three focal flowers, the larger ones, five stems to add texture and greenery and eight filler flowers, the smaller ones, to add depth. this isn’t a do or die thing, but i like following this rule when making certain types of bouquets like this one. this is a birthday gift for a mother. based on the notes, she doesn’t have a favourite flower, but she likes neutral colours, so i got white hydrangeas, dusty pink roses and dark purple calla lillies. for the foliage, citrus tree branches and rosemary, they’ll also give off a really nice, fresh scent. and for the fillers, baby breaths and wax flowers.” you explain, pointing at each flower as you named them. michael nodded and hummed, never interrupting you.

“wanna give it a try?”

“yeah!” he exclaims excitedly.

you step aside, giving michael space to work. as you expected, michael uses his doctor tenderness while working the flowers. he grabs them like they are they most delicate beings in the world, studies them, putting each side by side to see the best position to set them.

michael works in silence and you don’t dare to break his concentration. he asks a question or two to know if he is on the right path.

“what do you think?” he asks, turning the flowers to you.

the bouquet is perfect, you couldn’t have made it better yourself.

“i think that if you ever get bored of being a doctor, i got a position here for you.”

michael is red again, the colour coming up from his neck and taking over his face and you notice that he has a problem taking praises. “that good?”p

“yes, mikey.” you smile at him. he nods shyly.

michael looks at the bouquet with a pleased smile on his lips, turning it around in his hands, adjusting pieces here and there. when it came to tying the bow, he struggled with the burlap string, but you helped him.

the bell rang announcing the arrival of a customer you weren’t exactly fond of: maurice. he is the typical new york italian, with the accent, the attitude and the flirting. he and his family moved to pittsburgh when he was still a teen, after his father got transferred, but new york never left him.

maurice walks in like he owns the place, gives michael a silent “sup” with his head and you a “what’s up, sweet cheeks?”

you cringe internally, with the nickname and with the look you can see michael giving you through your peripheral vision.

“how have you been doing, maurice?” you ask him with your best customer service voice on.

“better now that i see you, baby.”

you smile, ignore the flirting as usual as you ring him and give him the bouquet. “hope patricia likes it.” patricia, his mom, is the typical new york italian mother, and something in her reminds you of big ang. you love her.

“of course she will. the only thing prettier than these is you.” he winks at you, and, in a more serious tone, he completes. “she loves your work, you know that.”

“thanks, but michael was the done who did it this time. i only supervised him.”

maurice fully acknowledges michael for the first time and both men have a territorial look on their faces. it is pathetic.

“maybe you can supervise me over some wine. what do you say, baby?”

you hold a snort and gives him your best sweet smile. “we’ll see, maurice.” and to put a stop to the conversation, you say “thank you for choosing petal & bloom once again.”

maurice nods and smiles at you. “see you around, baby.” he leaves, giving michael one of his nods again.

you can feel michael exhaling and his eyes burning a hole on you. “‘sweet cheeks? ‘baby?’ ‘we’ll see, maurice’? first name basis with his mom and everything?” the tone of his voice is so harsh, you feel your skin prickling.

“use your big boy words and ask me what you want to ask me, michael.”

he sorts and shakes his head, hands on his hips as he stares at you with an incredulous expression. “i– you– why–“

you started to get annoyed and decides to save him the trouble. “him and his mother have been coming here since forever. no, we haven’t fucked and yes, he flirted with talia, he flirts with me and you bet your ass he will flirt with kathy once he sees her. that’s how maurice works.”

“and you fucking let him!” he raises his voice, almost angry.

“first of all, watch your fucking tone, michael.” he murmurs you an “i’m sorry” and you continue. “second of all, what do you want me to do? i’ve had men buying flowers for their spouses flirt with me. i work with people, we work with people and as annoying as it is, it fucking happens! i bet you get flirted with all the time too, give me a break!”

“well, i don’t like that you get flirted with!” he counters, almost like a child.

you laugh at him. “i don’t like knowing you get flirted with either, michael!”

“yeah?!”

“yeah!”

“well–“ he cuts himself, kissing you. it is a hurried, messy kiss that catches you off guard and you only reciprocate a second later. michael calms down when you finally do, and starts moving his lips slowly against yours, tongues meeting in a soft dance. the hand on your waist squeezes the soft of your stomach as he corners you against the counter, and the one with its fingers between your hair brings your closer to him.

you are lost in time, the feeling of his body against your is overwhelming and calming at the same time, and it feels like there is only the two of you in the world. you don’t want this to end.

but we don’t always get what we want, and a soft gasp startles you, bursting your bubble. your turn fast and find kathrine and owen looking at your shocked.

“girl…” owen says.

“i– i should go.” michael says, walking hurriedly outside. his “on the road” copy forgotten beside the register.

“jesus fuck!” you mutter under your breath.

“he fucking left?!” talia shouts from her side of the screen.

you left a little after michael did. told kathy and owen that you would talk to them about it later. that at that moment, all you needed was to relax and forget about what had just happened, and asked them to close the shop. you texted talia as soon as you got inside your car, saying that you needed to talk to her as soon as she got home.

it would take her another hour or so, so you took a relaxing bath and ordered some japanese, that the two of your are now sharing between screens.

“what do you mean he left?!” she asks again after you explained everything that happened.

“he just left, tali. the kids showed up, katherine was shocked and i guess he freaked out.” you pop another piece of sushi in your mouth. “ugh, why is he like this?”

“i think he caught himself off guard, honey.”

“yeah, maybe.”

silence falls between you and the two of you keep eating. talia is watching you with a wicked smile on her face, and you already know what is coming next.

“what?” you ask.

“how was it?”

“girl, it was so fucking good.” you throw your chopsticks to the side so you can talk with your hands, making your friend laugh. “his lips are so soft and his beard actually smells good! i’m certain he has some crazy beard oils in his bathroom. and girl, he is big! you know that. but he engulfed me and holy fuck! also, his hands! his fingers! i need them inside of me.”

talia starts laughing with your rambling, pleased with how you are finally letting loose, even if only for a little bit.

“are you going after him?”

“no, let’s see if he’ll show up at the shop again.”

february 01, 2027.

michael went radio silent after the kiss. you were seriously considering faking an injury only to visit him at the PTMC, and then, ten days later, he texts you again like nothing had happened. he apologises for going missing, tells you he had to go on a last minute trip to nebraska to consult on a patient. he talks to you like usual, asks you how your days went and sends you his old people memes, but never mentions the kiss.

the shop is chaotic today, clients coming and going, people texting and calling, wanting to get their valentine’s day orders in and shipments of supplies for the holiday are arriving. part of you wishes he would show up today. for the help.

also because you miss him.

zoya is leaning over the counter, excitedly showing you some arrangement ideas she got from pinterest when michael arrives, large box of pizza and drinks in hand. he makes his way over the counter, says his good afternoon’s, kisses your cheek and leaves for the kitchen to store the food.

zoya is silent, watching everything in awe. michael comes back, apologises for interrupting you again and asks what he can help you with.

as if on queue, one of the delivery trucks arrives, and you ask him to receive the packages.

“boyfriend?” your regular asks.

“no.” you try to hide the wince. “it’s kind of complicated.”

she gives you a look that almost feels predatory. she turns her head to watch michael talk to the delivery team. “if you don’t plan on making a move please tell me, ‘cause i will.”

you give her a smile that you can only describe as painful, as much as you tried to fake normalcy, and change the subject back to her order.

you finish it in record time.

after lunch, you left katherine and owen responsible of the store front so you and michael could catalogue and put away the new supplies.

you worked in silence, each responsible for a side of the storage

“you angry at me?” he asks after a while.

“no.”

his eyes meet yours and you roll them.

“a bit. but that’s not what is annoying me right now.”

“what is it, then?” he asks as he makes his way to you.

you sigh and set the scanner and ipad down.

“zoya asked me if you were my boyfriend and i said no, that it’s complicated and she told me that, if i don’t make a move, she will.”

michael smiles at the information, and it only grows as he notices your annoyance.

“so, you’re jealous of me.” he states.

“you’re insufferable.” you tell him and get back to scanning.

“you are!” he laughs again. “you are jealous and don’t want to admit.”

“fine, i am!” you turn to him again. “like you were of maurice.”

“yeah, i was and i didn’t hide it.”

“yeah, but you ran away after kissing me.” you say, voice almost breaking.

michael sighs and gets closer to you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“i’m sorry.”

you nod. “it’s okay.”

he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and caress your cheek with the same hand. “the eight weeks have passed, honey. we’ve been doing this for four months now and i only get crazier and crazier about you.”

“crazy enough that you kiss me and leave?

“i’m sorry.” you hear honesty and a tinge of frustration in his voice.

“yeah, you’ve apologised already.”

“apparently it wasn’t enough because you keep bringing it up!

you sit down on the floor and michael follows behind, groaning as he sits beside you.

you grab his hand, play with his long fingers to distract you from your own vulnerability. “i love you, mikey. it’s just… i’ve been through a lot of shit and i don’t think i have it in me to be hurt again. especially not by you.”

he circles an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer. “i can’t promise you i’ll never hurt you, but i can promise that i’ll try my best not to and that i’ll show you everyday how important you are to me, and how much i love you too. now what do you say, that date, this friday. giuseppe’s at seven?”

three months later

“where do you need me?” michael asks after he pecks your lips. he would try to take the large birthday cake from your hands, but he knows you would complain.

“could you get the drinks, baby? tali is already setting the table.” you say, already making your way to the dining table.

it is your grandma’s eighty first birthday, and, as a surprise, you a talia brought a whole party to her house. that included michael and paul, of course.

the scream the matriarch let out when she saw michael with you was almost deafening. she kept gushing about how the robinavitch boy turned into a handsome man, and that she was happy you had finally found a good one.

you were happy too. happy that you have finally opened up, happy that you had let michael in and let him show up that he had changed. happy that you are being loved the way you have ever wanted.

“shit.” mike mutters as he searches for something in his pockets. “anyone got a lighter?”

you put the cake in front of your grandma and she insists that none of this was needed. paul palms around his pants and finds the black lighter he always uses. he throws it to michael from the other side of the table.

“ready?” mike asks as he lights the colourful candles.

“one, two, three! happy birthday to you…”

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NPT since you guys showed a little interest in the story: @inkdippedquills, @thedamnqueenofhell, @skymouth

domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated.

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