Four years. Four years ago today and the heaviness weighing in the pit of my stomach is just as horrific as the first day. Sitting crossed-legged by Nana’s tombstone, my fingers brush over the dark marble headstone with thin white veins, my heart tearing more and more with every touch.
To many, cemeteries are eerie, but to me, they’re the only place where I feel free and able to breathe. Perhaps because I can talk to Nana here without being questioned, cry without being judged, and grip flowers without it being known that they follow me wherever I go.
This is my safe place… it’s where I always come to feel closer to my nana June.
It’s just after 10:00 p.m. now and darkness laces the sky with peeks of glittery stars and the growing full moon. It was only a couple of hours ago the sun kissed the horizon, and an alluring orange-pink sky overtook like a real-life masterpiece.
Somedays during lunch at school, I stare up, wondering how far high up it goes. When I was younger, Nana and I used to play that game with the clouds—lying down on the fresh grass and letting my young, creative mind run wild, imagining shapes from moving marshmallow clouds up above. Now, as I lay my head beside Nana’s grave and stare at the sky with my fingers clasped over my chest, I control my breathing and try to imagine just like I used to when I was little.
I try and try and try… but nothing. No shapes. No letters. No animals. Just dark gray night clouds of nothingness. It has me fisting my hands, shutting my eyes, inhaling a deep breath, and starting again.
I’m a mess. A complete and utter mess.
Earlier, just as I was about to walk here, Nico showed up at my front door. I said Dad wasn’t home, but he wasn’t there for my father, he was there for me. He apologized for acting like a dick last night, and part of me knows Saint had something to do with his apology. I didn’t want any further drama, so I forgave Nico and appreciated the genuine smile on his lips before he walked back to his car and left.
After counting to sixty, I reopen my eyes and stare up, only to let out a blood-curdling scream at who I see. This time I don’t see any shapes. I see a person hidden by the darkness, but not up in the clouds, staring down at me.
Pressing my palms to the grass, I push myself back to create some distance and launch up on my feet. “Get away from me! Get a-away!” I say, my lip trembling as the figure takes a step closer to me. “Don’t step any closer! I’ll, I’ll…” I pull out my phone and wave it around, continuing to step back. “I’ll call the police! Don’t think that I won’t!”
I stumble back and let out another scream as I hit a tree trunk. “I’ll call the police right now if you don’t step away right now—ORCHIDS! There are over thirty thousand types of flowers, including the cattleya and vanilla orchid. Each variety of orchid has—Stay away!—its own color and—Don’t move!—its own meaning. Dendrobium orchids represent beauty and—that it! I’m calling the police!” I threaten, dialing 911 and turning on my flash to point it at the person for reference in the police report.
And that’s when everything explodes in my face.
Oh. NO!
My jaw drops at who’s staring back at me with an expression that screams ‘seriously?’. I’d know those ocean eyes anywhere. Arms casually crossed over his chest, Saint raises an amused brow, seemingly unaffected by the whole bright-light-in-your-face look.
“Orchids?” Saint smirks. “Really?”
I clutch a hand to my chest. “Oh my God!”
Just then, a woman’s voice on my phone says, “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi, sorry, I accidentally called. It’s a false alarm,” I mumble, cringing to myself.
“Oh, okay. Are you sure you don’t need any assistance?” the dispatcher asks.
“Yes, I’m okay. I’m so sorry about that.”
“It’s perfectly okay. Have a safe night.”
“You too,” I say as I hang up but keep the light on Saint.
His eyes widen a fraction. “You actually called nine-one-one? Shit, you’ve got more guts than I originally thought, Pais.”
“I didn’t know it was you! Where did you even come from?”
“I was smoking a cigarette on my porch when I literally saw you get in your dad’s car. I followed because I wanted to make sure you were okay and that the late-night drive didn’t have anything to do with Erik. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Smiling, he playfully teases me with his next words. “Or for you to tell me everything you know about orchids. That can’t be helpful if it was an actual attack.”
“You know I do that when I’m stressed.” I laugh, stepping away from the tree and dusting myself off. “Besides, I… totally knew it was you, that’s why I—”
Saint cuts me off with a chuckle. “Bullshit.”
I playfully roll my eyes at him but can’t help the grin shining through. “Well, thanks.”
A slow, sexy smirk rises on his lips. “I can’t even see you but I just know you rolled your eyes at me.”
“Am I really that predictable?”
“Take the light off my face and I’ll tell you.”
I switch it off and just like that, we’re surrounded by darkness except for a little brightness in the light the silvery moon reflects. “Well… this isn’t ideal.”
“Fucking hell.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I’m just seeing fucking dots of light everywhere.”
Laugher rumbles up my throat. “Oops, sorry.”
“You’re really not sorry, are you?”
“Not really.”
“Thought so. What were you doing here at this cemetery so late?”
“My nana… Today is four years since she passed. Lying down there at night is therapeutic for me. Creepy, I know, but somehow it calms me.”
“I know your dad’s working late. But did your mom contact you at all to say she’s thinking about you today?”
“She… No, no, she didn’t—” I cut myself off as the knot at the back of my throat tightens. It’s fitting, really, how the darkness disguises the tears streaming down my face. But Saint has this type of radar to notice. It’s been there since the first day I met him and I’m not too sure it’ll ever go away.
Saint steps forward, a flash of the moon illuminating his blue eyes, and for a split second I see something in them I’ve never seen before… sadness. He walks past me and sits down, his back resting against the tree trunk and long legs spread out. In the sleek silvery glow of his silhouette, his fingers brush against mine, effortlessly lacing his hand in mine and tugging me so I stumble down into him.
Saint breaks my fall by gently gripping my hips and I unexpectedly straddle him. My hands crash against his hard chest, and I let out a soft gasp at just how close we are. Warmth floods my body, pure desperation to kiss him as his long lashes lift and finally meet me.
Oh my… yes.
As secure as I feel right here and as much as I love this, I want to make sure this is okay for him. As I part my lips and wet them in anticipation, I expect him to tell me to get off him. Instead, Saint wordlessly wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer to him.
My lips part as I rest my head on his chest and focus on my heavy breaths instead of the speeding of my heart. Of how his touch warms that inner part of me that doesn’t come alive for anybody else. I’m so attracted to it. He’s the only man who both electrifies and warms me from the coldness of not only the night but the depth of my soul.
“I’ve got you, wildflower,” Saint murmurs. “Seeing somebody like your nana lose grip of their life right in front of you… it changes everything, so I can relate to how you’re feeling.”
Wildflower…
“Exactly. It’s like I have the bad visions constantly engraved in my mind instead of the good ones. Instead, all the good memories… well, they hurt too much to resurface.”
“I get that. Grief is so fucked up, just like you said a couple of weeks ago. But you’re strong, Paisley.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. It’s true. You’re one fuckin’ strong woman.”
A sad smile rises on my lips. “Thank you, Saint.”
He glances between my eyes and gulps down. “It’s okay.”
“It’s crazy,” I say after a while of us just sitting here in the silence, watching the stars wink down at us with his arms wrapped around me.
“What is?”
“How much I trust you. You understand me more than anybody else in this world.”
Saint sighs. “Your father knows you…”
I shake my head. “I don’t open up to him like I do to you.”
It’s the truth. There are things I’ve told Saint that I’ll never tell my father. I know my mother struggled through a lot after she had me and it’s not that I’m angry about it. I understand that part and just how bittersweet it must be. The anger festering inside comes from another place. It’s that she abandoned me. It’s that she gave up on me by restarting her life. It’s that she told my father things about me… things somebody should never say about their daughter. It’s that she never reached out, changed her number after she left my father, leaving no trace to contact her.
I’ve never voiced all these things to my father because I don’t want him to feel guilty or responsible for the pain deep inside my veins, because he isn’t. My father’s done so much for me, sacrificed his entire life to put me first. I love him so much, I don’t want him to hurt more.
Saint pushes strands of my hair away from my right cheek and tucks them behind my ear, then he replaces the warmth of my tears with that of his hot lips brushing against my cheeks.
“Hurts me when you cry, wildflower,” he whispers. “Hurts to see you like this.”
Sparks cross my entire body at the way his spikey stubble grazes against my soft skin when he cranes his neck to me and kisses away my tears.
“You’re the only one I trust, Saint,” I murmur. “Truthfully, the only one.”
“Then don’t hide your demons from me,” he says. “If you’re hurting, don’t you dare hide them away from me. You understand me?”
I nod, the stinging in my throat too strong to speak as a sob escapes me.
“And for the record, I trust you too.” Saint holds me closer to him, his dark musky scent purified by my jasmine one. “Paisley, talk to me. What’s going through your mind?”
“I just feel… so alone.”
“You’re not alone. You have your father. You have me.”
“For how long?”
“For however long you need. I’m here.”
“Why?” I sniffle, resting my head against his shoulder to stop further tears from falling. “Why are you helping me?”
Saint takes it as an opportunity to kiss the side of my head softly. He doesn’t pull back straight away, not until his hands find mine and he squeezes tightly. His voluntary presence is destined to protect me from any tempest with his warmth alone. “Because that’s what reckless saints do.”
My heart explodes into little, tiny rose petals. I can’t ignore the butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I’ve never felt this way about anybody else in my life. Nobody but him.
“I’m sorry, Saint. I’m sorry for always being a mess whenever I’m around you.”
“You once promised me you’ll never apologize for feeling emotion. Remember?”
When his words fall in a silent response, Saint releases one hand and cups my jaw, turning my head to face his until our eyes meet. In the softness of the moonlight, his eyes shine in the silvery gray glow. When his lips part, my gaze drops to them and I wonder just what it would be like to taste the other side of purgatory on his lips.
This is all new to me.
These feelings…
This side of Saint…
All so new… and enticing.
“Paisley?”
“Hmm?” I murmur.
“Promise me. Promise me you won’t hide from me when you need somebody the most.”
“A couple of weeks ago you told me not to think about you,” I say, all choked up. “You can’t be the person I don’t hide from and the person I don’t think about. The two can’t coexist with each other. When you told me to stop thinking about you… did you mean it?”
Our shared gaze is so intense, so passionately motivated by both grief and hope. I try to find something in them, anything, anything that tells me he doesn’t want me to let go… and then, just like that, I find it.
Saint smiles and holds me tighter. “Yes, yes, I meant every word, wildflower.”
He meant it.
I let out a breath, my heart squeezing because he feels this too—whatever this may be.
A weight feels as though it’s being lifted off me when I say, “Then I promise you. I promise I won’t hide when I need you the most.”
Saint smiles and softly comes to rest his forehead against mine, yet he makes no comment of how I said you instead of somebody.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” I ask, knowing the answer so damn well.
“Because the world can be a cruel life sentence,” Saint murmurs against my lips.
“My heart hurts me. It feels as though there’s a piece missing, like somebody ran up to me and pulled it out of my chest.”
“There is. Your grandmother’s piece. I feel it too with my father… and other people I’ve lost.”
“I’m so sorry for your losses. So sorry you feel it too,” I whisper into the darkness, slipping my arms around his neck. “I’m just so scared. Of this. Of living. Of dying. Of what comes next.”
Saint nods against my forehead. “I know, wildflower, I know, but sometimes you’ve got to walk into fear and forget all else. I feel the most alive when I’m in the fire, when I’m burning, when the flames rise and swallow me whole.”
“How do you get out?”
His smile saddens. There’s no hesitation from Saint as I reel him closer. In fact, his hands slowly caress the patch of skin exposed between my top and jeans.
“I haven’t gotten out,” Saint eventually admits. “I’m still in that fire, slowly fading.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“That you’re fading.”
Saint chuckles. “Why? Scared I’ll disappear on you, Pais?”
“No,” I lie. “That has never been my problem with you.”
“Then what is it?”
“You’re unpredictable. Reckless. Destructive. I never know what I’m going to get. But when you give, you don’t back down. You follow through.”
“You learned all that by staring out of your bedroom balcony?” Saint playfully chuckles.
Blushing, a grin takes over, no matter how hard I bite my lip. “Oh my God! Shut up!”
A calmness seems to come over Saint as he reaches out his right thumb and brushes it against the soft skin of my flushed cheek, slowly drifting to my lips. He smirks for the first time tonight, complete with his dimples, and it’s the sexiest, most beautiful yet devilish one I’ve ever seen.
“Made you smile,” he whispers so damn low. “You’re so different, Paisley. So different to anybody else I’ve known.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
“With the kind of life I live, I don’t know. A little bit of both, I guess. Truth is… even though I know I shouldn’t see you like this… I would be lying if I said I don’t find you so damn fucking beautiful inside and out,” Saint admits inches from my lips. “You’re a mystery to me, Paisley Reign, one I’m craving to unravel.”
Saint’s confession awakens something inside me, partly because I wasn’t expecting it. Although I knew he isn’t blind to this strong spark and emotional connection between us, I didn’t know he felt this forbidden temptation. Didn’t know he wants this as much as I do.
“So do it,” I reply, cupping his stubbled jaw. “Please. Unravel me, Saint Lisconti.”
“I can’t.” Saint squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavily. “It’s too complicated. You know I don’t do love. You’re supposed to be my best friend’s daughter. We shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t even be talking about this.”
“I know, but we are. We are, Saint, and I’m not ashamed of it because you mean too much to let go of. The thing is, I don’t do or know love either. Love is a fragile, delicate thing and I hate fragile because it’s all that I am.”
Saint’s brows knit as he opens his eyes. “Who said that to you?”
“Nobody did. Just me.”
“Bullshit. Alaric must have told you your mom once said it about you, didn’t he?”
Crap.
I feel Saint’s eyes on me and know better than to lie in his face. He has a way of knowing me more than myself with these things. Staring down at my hands, I swallow down the thickness clogging my throat and nod slowly. “Yes.”
I await Saint’s response for the longest time, so long the night begins to change before our very eyes as darker skies cover the night with brighter winking stars and city lights from far away California hills. I don’t know what to say or do. All I know is Saint’s clenched jaw doesn’t mean anything good. He’s thinking everything through. I know he is. I can see the clockwork in his mind reiterating what I admitted as his body tenses up around me until all tension seems to ease away when he whispers, “You’re not fragile, Paisley. You’re beautiful.”
And that’s when it all stops for me. Fragile.
I hate it.
Hate how a single word can cut so deep.
Saint leans further back against the tree stump, his ocean blues never leaving mine.
“Why, Paisley?” he murmurs, his hands coming to a halt by my waist again. The warmth the single action provides sends me to heaven. “Why believe her false words?”
“Because after a while, I start looking around and realize the world isn’t as bright as I once thought it was. Nobody ever saw me for me. Never stood up for me. Loved me enough to stay. I know I don’t put myself out there, so perhaps it’s partly my fault, but it’s only because I’m protecting myself from the torment I know is going to occur,” I admit with a frown, my vision glossy. “So, when my father told me of the words she spoke… I believed in them because she’s right. I can be fragile, I can be fragile because I’m scared of the world.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” I nod. “I’m fragile because I’m scared, and because of that… I’ve never felt affection or learned what it feels like to really love somebody outside of a father’s love. I ask too many questions because I have a fear of misunderstanding rendering me weak. I work up the courage to stand up for myself in small peeks of certainty, only to shut myself down again from fear of my own self-consciousness. I feel out of place every single day, as if the world doesn’t know me and I don’t know it. It’s like we don’t sync, and I’m just an outcast wasting life’s time. Life has always thrown either grief or chaos my way. So, when that happens, I close myself up, hoping nobody else ever finds the key that unlocks all my vulnerability. Because I’m always just my father’s daughter, or the crazy girl with the damn flowers, or the little baby her mother left behind. I’m never simply Paisley Reign.”
“But you are to me.” Saint’s eyes dive into my soul and I cling to his every word with all I have. “You’re Paisley Reign, the flower obsessed poet who hides her stanzas. The listener with the brightest questions. The woman with the kindest heart. You know what you want, but you’re so damn scared to take it. You think you need to ask for it, wildflower, but you don’t—when something is yours, learn to steal it without permission. You’re the type of woman who doesn’t give your heart away to people who don’t earn your respect, and I appreciate that. But you’re so blinded by your fears you’ve covered up all the mirrors. You don’t know just how fucking beautiful you are, inside and out. That, that’s who Paisley Reign is. You’re more than the woman next door, or somebody’s daughter, you’re a person. A fucking good person, and I care for you more than I should. And you’re not fragile, you never could be, you’re simply blooming.”
Tears stream down my face at the sweetness of his words and of just how much they speak from the heart. This is the Saint Lisconti I know and appreciate. This is him.
Saint clears his throat, clearly concealing his emotion as he looks away from me for a split moment. “And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you, wildflower. I don’t know what I would do without you. You’re the only good thing in my life. I need you in it—a part of it—not just some woman I used to know that Heaven took too early.” With that, his eyes move back to mine, rimmed with unshed tears. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but if you think ending it all is the answer because there’s no reason to live it, then let me be your reason. Know that doing it for me is doing it for yourself. Because as fucked up and forbidden as it may be, I want us to both know what it feels like to grasp the thorns of a rose and smile while doing so. I want you to forget everything you think you are because you are everything you think you are not. You’re so special, Paisley Reign, so special in the best goddamn fucking way, and I just want you to see it.”
Saint takes a breath and continues, “And you deserve happiness, and life, and love. So much love. And you deserve to live it. So, if you feel like an outcast, then I’m an outcast too right with you. Because I’m scared of lovin’ just as much as you’re scared of livin’. You’re not alone. No matter how much you think you are. Your father loves you to bits. He may not always show it, but I know it. And while your life now may be a version without somebody who should truly be here for you, you’re better without her. Trust me on that. And while it may also be a version without your nana, never forget she’s alive right there in your heart. So, let that love grow into wildflowers that you cherish and hold close to you because your heart… it will never grow old because Paisley Reign doesn’t let anyone trample over her damn flowers—nobody—and the same should apply to her life. Because it’s irreplaceable. And it’s beautiful. And it’s yours.”
Wow. That was beautiful.
All I can do is stare at Saint, teary-eyed, with the biggest smile I can manage. Because he’s beautiful. And he’s compassionate. And he said everything I needed to hear without me knowing it. My heart has never felt this complete or this beautifully raw before. Saint took my vulnerabilities and reassured me in ways nobody ever has before, in ways I know nobody ever will again.
As wrong as it may be behind my father’s back, it feels so right. So good. So poetically rhythmic. Saint and I understand each other on this interpersonal deep level, one I never thought could be realistic, better yet, possible. But it is and God, how beautiful it is with him. Saint knows me more than I know myself and unlocks me in ways nobody has ever dared to before.
“That means more to me than you know. Thank you. You always have been my reason, Saint,” I murmur as a mixture of happy and emotional tears doesn’t stop flowing. “Even when I didn’t know it at first, you always have been the reason I kept on going. Because you believed in me and cared about me even when nobody else does except for my father. You still do.”
“Of course I do, wildflower,” Saint smiles sweetly, wiping away my tears with his thumb while his own run down his cheeks with vengeance. “That’s what neighbors are for, right?”
It feels so nice to share a chuckle as my nose scrunches up mid-laugh.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I nod. “That’s what neighbors are for.”
“And I will always be here for you.” Saint cups my cheeks, reassuring me with trusting eyes. “Always. In the middle of the night. Ten years from now. Even when you hate me the most, you call my name, and I’m yours in a heartbeat. I’m yours.”
I press my lips to his right cheek and kiss it in a way I hope communicates every single emotion I’m currently feeling. Desire. Grief. Hope. Fear. Devotion. Saint smoothed my heartache in more ways than just one tonight. It places a much needed temporary hold on my mourning—and even if it’s for a single moment—it’s enough.
When the time comes, I pull away from his cheek and lay my face on his chest, shutting my eyes to drown out any other sound but his vigorously beating heart. His chin rests on top of my head, protecting me from the world itself with his warmth and alluring masculine cologne that transports me into a world of him.
Tonight, I feel all of Saint, want all of him as his hand pulls me closer to him—tighter—as if our time is running out. Like there’s no better remedy to heal our aching chests from this destructive world around us. Like there’s no better place to be than right here with him. Like there’s nothing else that truly matters but him and me and the rest of the air around us.
I love it and desperately don’t want to let go of this feeling. But as my father crosses my mind, it’s hard not to imagine the consequences of falling for a man I can never truly have, because I’ve already fallen for Saint Lisconti and now that I know how sweet hell can really be, I don’t want to be an angel anymore.
I want to be unholy if it means having a single opportunity to be with the man who means the most to me.
If only I knew how.
“Let me know when you’ve finished with that one. I have something to tell you.” Maralyn grins with her bold red lips, her thick Brooklyn accent shining through just as I finish arranging yet another bouquet and set it on the flower arranging table.
I love how the calmingly sweet floral scent takes me away from reality, even for a few seconds. The flowers are a gorgeous mix of dusty pink, lilac, and white flowers. Azaleas. Lavenders. Daisies. The perfect mid-May combination.
“All done.” I smile, turning to my boss and closest friend here at Maralyn’s Florist.
Maralyn nods, pulling back her long, dark waves in a large tortoiseshell hair claw clip. Hands planted on her hips, her denim apron—the same one I’m wearing—hides her khaki-colored linen jumpsuit with neon pink roses printed all over it.
I’ve been working here for the past few months since the start of senior year and every shift Maralyn’s bold enthusiasm and wild stories never cease to amaze me. She’s in her late forties, says it as it is, and is easily one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. At times, like the mother I never had.
“All right.” Maralyn claps her hands together, scaring our final customer, whose head snaps back at us before she continues browsing the florist we’re about to close for the day. “You’ll never believe what happened on Friday night. When I closed the florist, my husband, Maxwell, called to say his brother and sister-in-law want to meet up. I was planning to have a nice Friday night at home, watching Judge Judy while being fed grapes while lying down on the couch.”
I smile. “I have a feeling that didn’t happen.”
“Yep, that definitely didn’t happen. Anyway, we all went out and had one too many drinks, mainly because of my brother-in-law, who’s younger. We got home at around two o’clock in the morning and while I was half decent, Maxwell was far gone. As we slipped into bed, I somehow remembered he had a doctor’s appointment in the morning and started stressing. Maxwell told me we’ll sober up in time and all that shit men say that makes you feel okay at the time but later you wish you never listened. So, Maxwell managed to put on the alarm, and we fell asleep.”
“What time was the appointment in the morning?”
“It was at eleven,” she clarifies and continues. “Anyway, I woke up the next morning and the sun was blaring through the window. The idiot was still out cold beside me. The first thought that came to mind was, I need coffee and something to get rid of the head pounding. Close behind that thought was, Maralyn, the sun shouldn’t be this bright for eight-fifteen in the morning. Then… I checked his phone and saw it was two o’clock in the damn afternoon. Instead of setting on the alarm, the idiot set the calculator for eight dollars and fifteen freaking cents.”
I cover my mouth to prevent myself from bursting out laughing in the vicinity of customers. The grin burns up my lips as I step closer to her, eyes wide. “No!”
“Yes! It was so embarrassing calling up the medical clinic and canceling three hours late. Oh, Paisley, you should have seen me take him up like the house was on fire.”
“Whoa, I swear you two should have your comedy show. You’re both like Lucy and Ricky!”
“Ahhh,” Maralyn groans. “I wish my husband looked like Desi Arnaz! The closest thing Maxwell has to him is that he usually burst out in song at six o’clock in the morning.”
I smile. “You know he loves you, Lyn.”
Maralyn sighs, but eventually starts nodding. “I know. I know. I just like teasing the guy.” Then, her eyes light up as she gestures toward me. “Speaking of men, you’re graduating in a couple of weeks and this whole new chapter is opening up. Any men you have your eye on, hmm?”
My mind wanders to Saint and that gorgeous, dimpled smile. To the way his deep, ocean eyes take me on a journey I never want to come back from. The way his sexy, sandalwood scent remains in the air long after he’s gone. The way he held me so damn tightly and reassured me days ago at the cemetery. The words he spoke to me that night… I’ll never forget them.
Let me be your reason.
I don’t know what I would do without you.
You’re not fragile, you never could be, you’re simply blooming.
Our bond has only tightened since then. During the past week, he and my father have been going downtown for drinks with a few of their friends and the stolen glances Saint and I share just before my father hugs me goodbye… wow.
Saint means everything to me… and the fact that he openly admitted to caring for me in ways he knows he shouldn’t… it changes everything. During these past few days, the desire has only heightened. Not that I thought it was possible. It’s as if my heart has punctured and I bleed bittersweet crimson rivers for him.
There have been so many times where I die in his embraces because we hug tighter and longer than before.
So many times where I wish he could just kiss me whenever my father isn’t looking.
So many times where I want to tell Saint, I’m yours too.
I focus back on Maralyn and simply smile. “Nope, nobody.”
Maralyn smirks and shoots me a knowing look. “Nah, ah, ah. You’re definitely crushing on somebody. You had to think about that question way too long, girlfriend. Okay, that’s it, spill. Who’s the guy?”
“Nobody!” I lie, yet the darn grin isn’t wiping off my lips. “I swear, he’s nobody.”
And just then I realized I addressed that there is in fact somebody. Greattt.
“Sure he’s not, that’s why you’re blushing scarlet red.”
I cup my hot cheeks. Oh shit, I am! “It’s really nothing, trust me.”
“Does this guy have a name?”
“Maralyn, stop!” I laugh.
“Okay, fine. Keep mystery man all to yourself, but just know I will crack the mystery. I always do.” She winks, leaning against the oak table beside us. “I think you’re just nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous about it. I mean, when am I not? I’m just… a constant mess.”
“Around the guy?”
“Yes, but also in general. I’m always afraid I’ll mess up and make things worse.”
That has Maralyn frowning. “Where did those feelings come from?”
“My past… Let’s just say I didn’t have the best childhood. I feel like the one to blame. It’s as if I did something wrong to my mother, even though I know it’s not the case.”
“Have you been to a therapist to talk the issues through? I think it could really help.”
I shake my head softly at Maralyn, feeling the weight of the world settling at the back of my throat. I don’t know why this emotion has overcome me right now at work. Shit.
“You know, sometimes I look back at life and wish I’d done things differently, Paisley, but there comes a stage where you need to let go of all fear and dive deep into the unknown.” Her emerald eyes stay on the assortment of flowers I placed down moments ago before slowly turning back to me. “So, I opened up this florist only a few years ago. It’s always been a dream of mine, but I put it on hold because I was scared and nervous of the outcome, if it would pay the bills, if I would even break even.”
“How did you push yourself to take the next step?” I ask, craving the answer more than she’ll ever know.
“Well, it took time, but ultimately one day I had enough of the old life I was living. I shook myself, looked in the mirror, and said to myself: This is my dream. This is where I want to be. I can do this. I don’t have to be successful, just successful enough. Trying is enough. Trying is doing. And I haven’t looked back since. So, do the same, Paisley. Live the life you want to live, not by the rules. Tell yourself you’re worth it. Tell yourself your past doesn’t need to define you. Free your soul of blaming yourself for not being good enough. You are good enough. It’s on her if she doesn’t want to be a witness to your greatness. So don’t let her hold you back from unlocking that greatness. Thrive in doing what you love and fall in love recklessly instead. Because when you thrive, you get so much purpose and ahead in life that the people who matter will show up. Those who don’t just aren’t meant to be as important in our lives as life originally planned them to be.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that. God, I needed that so much. Thank you, Maralyn.”
“Anytime, lovely. You know I’m always here. Also… whoever this man is and whatever he truly means to you—just try. Because one day you’ll look around and realize life went by like this.” Maralyn snaps her fingers with a frown. “And regrets may mean nothing now, but one day you’ll bank them all up and realize it’s an entire life of regrets, and if you were bold enough, you could have taken a different path. So be bold. Be brave. Be Paisley fucking Reign.”
Our final customer interrupts us with a vase of flowers she wants to purchase and Maralyn smiles softly, squeezing my shoulder before guiding her to the cash register.
Maralyn’s right. She’s so damn right… and so is Saint. The parallels in the words they’ve both spoken to me spiral in my head, echoing so violently fierce.
Maralyn. Live the life you want to live, not by the rules.
Saint. You deserve happiness, and life, and love. So much love. And you deserve to live it.
Maralyn. Free your soul of blaming yourself for not being good enough. You are good enough. Be bold. Be brave. Be Paisley fucking Reign.
Saint. Paisley Reign doesn’t let anyone trample over her damn flowers—nobody—and the same should apply to your life. Because it’s irreplaceable. And it’s beautiful. And it’s yours.
Tears blur my vision as my eyes flicker down to my trembling hands. Both Maralyn’s and Saint’s words dig deep into my soul. There’s so much truth laced in every sentence that I value more than they’ll ever know.
I need to start living my life according to me.
Saint floats in my mind and my heart clenches and shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. It does because I know I haven’t felt so safe in anybody else’s arms but his. He’s my support. My security. My safe place. A man so different to me on the outside looking in, but on the inside, we couldn’t be more connected.
Saint’s voice repeats in my mind until the words he spoke turn into something so beautifully poetic, yet so painstakingly bittersweet.
Forget everything you think you are because you are everything you think you are not.
A smile rises on my lips.
I am. I tell myself. I am everything I think I’m not.
I vow to myself that today is going to be the first day of the rest of my life. Because not only did that night at the cemetery with Saint change for me for the better, it drew a line in the sand and put our differences aside and made me realize how similar we truly are. How much we need each other. How desperately I want to try… try to be something more to him.
Because we’re no longer the good girl and the bad boy.
We’re no longer light and dark.
It’s just Paisley.
It’s just Saint.
It’s just us.
