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The first time he sees her, she has a bouquet of lavender roses in her arms, discussing something with a customer. Her back towards him, he falls a captive to her wild reddish brown curls. From his vantage point, they look like a glowing red halo around her head, and for some reason its more beautiful that it should be.
He tells his friends about her, but they laugh it off- How can you be in love with her? You haven’t even seen her face.
Well, he thinks stubbornly, he has more chances of seeing her face than any of them. She is after all, the new owner of the flower shop right across from his coffee house.
It is a few days before he is able to see her face. Every time either some customer becomes chatty, or a waiter or waitress decides that a cup looks nice on the floor instead of the table or shelves.
One day, two weeks after he had first seen her, he is opening the door to his coffee house, when a gorgeous woman waves at him, a bunch of really beautiful orchids in her hand, and he knows its her.
He waves back, she grins, and he feels his heart skip a beat. His shop forgotten, he makes his way to her.
"New here?"
She smiles up at him, her palm shielding her eyes from direct sunlight, and he thinks he has never seen a more beautiful creature as she narrows her eyes against the sunlight.
"Not really. Just got bored of my old job".
She giggles a bit towards the end, He carries that sound in his heart throughout the day, waving and grinning at her from the glass window of his shop.
A few days later, summer knocks on their door. Business is slow in the afternoons when the heat is intent on beating everyone down. He peers outside. She is puttering about, arranging and rearranging her flowers. He looks around his shop, only a few customers that Arthur can take care of, and bounds towards her.
"Hello!"
She turns towards him, her hand on her heart, her eyes wide, and hits him with the bunch of gardenias she has in her hand.
"You scared me!"
He sniffs, “Well you hit me. I’d say we are even.”
She rolls her eyes, “I smacked you with a bunch of flowers, you big baby!”
"I’m not a baby", he counters, "If I were one, I wouldn’t be inviting you to my coffee house"
"You didn-", she shakes her head at his grin, and smirks at him, "I’m more of a tea kind of girl, darling."
"Isn’t this your lucky day?" he loops a curl around his finger and tugs at it softly, "I myself am a bit partial to tea."
"Good for you, but I have flowers to sell. What if someone comes by when I’m off there having tea with you?"
He is ready to buy every single flower in her shop for every day of his life if it means she’ll smile like that for him. Presently, he loops her arm with his, and tugs her along. “You know, I actually want you to have a look around my shop. That place could use some brightening up. What’s brighter than flower, yeah?”
She takes the seat he pulls out for her. “Is that what you say to every flower girl you invite here for tea?”
"Nah. Just the ones with wild, curly hair."
She giggles at that, and it somehow becomes a part of their daily routine. He buys flowers from her in the morning- sometimes a bunch of larkspurs, sometimes tulips and on some days, lilacs. He brings her a cup of tea in the morning, and leaves a small sunflower by her cup whenever she drops by for another cup in the evening.
There are times he feels brave. He buys a bunch of peonies, and leans by the door as she closes for the day. He flirts with her, feeling lighter than ever- like he could just float away, she returns every remark with her own flirtatious barbs laced with innuendos. Sometimes she throws small pansies at him, and he wonders where does she even find them. He feels brave, but never enough to ask her for dinner.
She beats him to asking name too.
"You know you just have to ask, right?"
She asks one day, her face a mask of seriousness. His heart beats loudly in his chest, and he makes conscious attempts at not spitting out his tea. “Wh-what?”
"Simplest thing, darling. Everyone does it. We can too." Her voice, her smile are pure seduction and there are answering throbs in places he hardly thinks appropriate for a tea date.
He stares a touch longer than necessary. “You do realise, darling, a girl hates waiting?” she sighs as he ccontinues staring, caught completely offguard. “May be I should go first?”
She gives him a positively sinful smirk when he nods in response, her next words sending him into bouts of laughter.
"What’s your name, darling?"
After that, something shifts between them. Or, may be he becomes more aware of it. They start walking back home together- pure coincidence her flat is next door to his. He helps her bring big baskets of flowers in her shop. On Valentines Day, he buys six roses from her- two red, two yellow with tinges of red, and two pink- an odd combination, but he is happy about his selection.
She is quiet that day. Doesn’t come for her regular tea, waving at him without any of her regular energy, and keeps peering at his shop, turning away whenever he looks back at her.
He feels light like a cloud and wonders if he could float away when she blushes and beams at him after finding the six flowers on her doorstep that night. He feels like that for weeks after that.
—x—
"If anybody has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace."
The priest announces and Matt rushes in. She can’t marry him. He won’t allow this. Not until he tells her how much he loves her. He shouts with all his might, “I’m in love with her!”
When the bride turns to him, his eyes grow wide. She is not Alex.
He scans the crowd frantically. There, at the back, she stands in a lavender coloured dress. He moves towards her, but she moves away. He follows her back to her shop where she picks up a potted cactus plant to throw at him. He ducks even though she misses the mark.
Gripping her waist, he pushes her to the wall next to the pots where she keeps yellow and red tulips with daisies and roses, and captures her lips in a searing kiss. She struggles in the beginning, giving in when his fingers softly, reverently stroke her cheeks. He licks at the seam of her lips, begging for entry, and she responds, pulling him closer, her lips parting under his.
When the need to breathe becomes stronger, he breaks off reluctantly, resting his forehead against hers. Pulling on of the yellow tulips, he touches it to her lips, hoping she’ll get the message he has been trying to convey for months now.
Her answering smile is more beautiful than anything he has ever seen, and he knows he is grinning like a fool.
"Idiot!"
She hits him when he chuckles at her exclamation with the spare bouquet she had made for the bride, and pulls him down for a kiss as petals of white roses fall around them.