“I didn’t pick you for your brains.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure.
Leaning against the door I bang my head against the solid wood. Each time I tell myself I’m going to stop, and I think I have until something makes me want to forget. My hands rake over my face in pure frustration.
I’m not looking forward to going home.
The reason for returning is staring at me from my bathroom counter. The page-long article of the guy I used to call my best friend. Picking up the paper, I read over the words that I have memorized.
Mason Powell, father of two, was killed tragically when the car he was driving was rear-ended by an eighteen wheeler.
Dead.
Gone.
And I wasn’t there.
I left like a coward when I didn’t say goodbye.
I changed my cell phone number because she wouldn’t stop calling. I had to make a clean break and Mason was part of that. She and Katelyn were best friends and he’d tell her where I was and what I was doing. It was better this way.
I was only meant to be gone a year. I told myself I’d return home after twelve months, make everything right and show her that I wasn’t the same person she fell in love with. She’d see that and thank me, move on and marry a yuppie business man, one who wakes up every day and puts on a crisp dress shirt and pleated slacks that she'd iron in their Leave it to Beaver household.
I squeeze the paper in my hands and think about everything I’ve missed. I don’t regret it, I can’t. I did this for me and did it the only way I knew how. I just didn’t think I’d care so much about missing everything.
I missed the day he asked Katelyn to marry him. Something I knew he wanted to do since we were sixteen.
I missed his wedding and the birth of his twins. He was a father and a husband. He had three people who depended on him and now he’s gone. He’ll never see his children grow up and do the things that we did when we were younger. All the things we said our kids would do together. I missed this because I had something to prove to myself. I gave up on their dream and the life we had all planned out.
And now I’m heading home to face the music.
CHAPTER 2
JOSIE
The words become a blur the longer I stare at them.
The paper wet from my tears. Tears that haven’t stopped falling since I received the phone call. Now I’m holding an order form with his name on it. The casket spray to be done in our high school colors – red and gold. The standing spray to be done in their wedding colors, our college colors, green and white. This is what Katelyn wants.
Katelyn is going to bury her husband in a few short days and yet she’s sound enough to make decisions on what kind of flowers are going to drape over her husband’s coffin.
Me? I can’t even make it through reading the order form.
When Katelyn called and asked me to do the flowers it took everything in me to say yes when I really wanted to say no. I don’t want to do this. I don’t even want to believe that Mason is gone. I’ve known him since first grade and now he’s gone. He won’t be stopping in on Monday for his usual pick-up. Katelyn won’t be getting her weekly dozen of roses, something she’s been getting since he started proposing at seventeen.
They were the lucky ones, having it all figured out in high school and sticking with it. I thought I had that too, but I was blindsided my first semester in college. My life was turned upside down with just a few short words and a door slam, creating a wall between me and the love of my life.
I stand on shaky legs, wipe away my tears and make my way over to the door to flip the Closed sign to Open. I don’t want to open today, but I have to. There is a wedding, homecoming and Mason’s funeral in the next few days and I’m the lucky one doing all their flowers.
I pin Katelyn’s order on the board next to the rest of the orders. I have to treat her like any other customer even though this is one I wish I wasn’t filling.
Deep breaths, I tell myself as I start the first order. There are forty corsages and boutonniere’s to make today and all I want to do is smash the roses between my palms and throw them out the door.
Door chimes break my concentration. Time to put on a happy face. Jenna is walking toward me, coffee cups in hand. I wipe my hands on my green apron and meet her at the counter.
“Thank you,” I say just before sipping the hot liquid. The way to my heart is definitely through a caramel latte.
“I knew you needed it. I could sense your deep desire when I was in line.”
Jenna is my part-timer and all over friend. She moved to Beaumont three years ago to escape an abusive husband and fit in instantly with me and Katelyn.