Elly in Love. Colleen Oakes

viewed him with skepticism. “After that cinematic treasure, dessert sounds wonderful.”

      Keith twirled his fingers through Elly’s blond tendrils. “Sorry about the movie. Dave told me it was hilarious.” He paused. “Actually, I thought it was pretty funny.”

      Elly gave a moan. “The only female characters were a shrill wife and a hooker!”

      “At least the hooker was nice.” He kissed her forehead. “I think I have a better idea than the movie, but you have to give me ten minutes.”

      Elly closed her eyelids. “Granted. Wake me up when you need me.”

      A few minutes later, Keith led Elly up to her roof-deck. She had poured a portion of her payment from last spring’s gigantic wedding—her ex-husband Aaron’s wedding— onto her roof-deck, and why not? It was her favorite spot in the world. A large wood pergola now stretched its rustic arms out over the concrete space. Her orange couches had remained and were now covered with bright-colored paisley pillows, all made with water proof fabric and adorned with the emblem of a sheepdog stitched in the middle. Dangling fairy lights dipped and danced down from the pergola and the whole area oozed charm. Elly grimaced as she thought of her first decorating attempt; it had not been as successful. Three boxes of pink Christmas lights were pushed up against the wall, along with plastic pink flamingoes and an unopened kiddie pool. “Paradise Found” had been her idea, but her best friend Kim’s look of disgust had shut that down immediately. Even though Elly had loathed her for a couple of days, she had been right. “Vintage Arts and Craft Loft” had been a much better theme. Elly had an impeccable eye for floral and wedding design, but she wasn’t as gifted in home design.

      As Elly came up the landing, she gasped with delight. On her low coffee table, a few generic candles lit the darkness around them, sending flickers of light across a bottle of her favorite wine. Elly clutched his arm. “Are you trying to seduce me?” She quickly kissed his cheek and she could hear a happy sigh under his breath.

      “Maybe.”

      “I don’t deserve you. You know that, right?”

      Keith’s arms tightened around her. “I hate when you say stuff like that, Elly. You do deserve me. I deserve you. We deserve each other.” He rested his heavy head on her blond curls. “I mean, I’m a mildly attractive but chubby man, and you are a curvy Grecian goddess. We’re perfect together.”

      Elly’s loud laugh was muffled in Keith’s shirt.

      “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s bust open this extravagant bottle of fifteen-dollar wine.”

      Elly settled back on the couch and watched as Keith uncorked the bottle. He glanced up at her, winked and began pouring. Elly closed her eyes and leaned back. When he began humming the opening bars to “Moon River” in his low register, she was instantly taken back to their first kiss.

      Chapter Three

       One Month Earlier

      It had been the week before Valentine’s Day, which was also known as “The Apocalypse” to florists everywhere. To the normal population, Valentine’s Day was an excuse to wax romantic, a day of tiny delicate boxes of expensive chocolates, of bright-pink balloons and gas station teddy bears, a day of making co-workers envious. To florists, it was an eighteen-hour marathon from hell with a pile of orders four feet high, a day that was both ridiculously lucrative and completely exhausting. Keith and Elly had barely been together for two months, and Elly had laid it out for him on a walk to their favorite place—a secret garden concealed in the middle of some seriously upper-crust homes, located just up the street from her store. Their hands were linked together, warm between knitted mittens—a gift from Kim, ever the crafty homemaker these days. Elly kicked aside a pile of damp leaves as they walked. “So, Valentine’s Day is coming up….”

      Keith grinned down at her. “Valentine’s Day? What’s that?”

      Elly gave him a small nudge. They had been so nervous back then, bubbling over with happiness but totally unable to express it.

      Keith cleared his throat. “Don’t worry. I might be kind of new at this boyfriend thing, but even I know that Valentine’s Day is a big deal. I’m already planning a romantic night downtown. Drinks, dinner, dancing….”

      Elly held up her hand and slowed her walk. “Yeah, I’m going to stop you right there. First of all, Elly does not dance. Under any circumstances. You’ve seen Fantasia, right? Remember the ballerina hippos?”

      Keith rolled his eyes. “Elly, I bet you dance beautifully.”

      “No. You are completely off course there. I know you’re just being sweet, but let’s clear this up. Elly Jordan does not dance. Not in public, anyway.”

      Keith frowned. “Okay. No dancing. Got it.”

      “I have more bad news about Valentine’s Day. Let’s see, how do I explain this?” She paused, tucking her blond waves of hair behind her face. “What are your busiest times of the year at the deli?”

      He scratched his bare head and Elly felt her heart give a tiny knock. “Uhh … Super Bowl Sunday. Or the day before the Fourth of July. Memorial Day Weekend. Graduation weekends.”

      “Okay, well, combine all of those together, and that is Valentine’s Day for florists.”

      Keith nodded and they continued walking through some pale-green bushes, the withered stems defensively closed against the chill air.

      “Valentine’s Day is a juggernaut. It’s both the worst and most profitable day of our year.” She paused. “Well, except for last year. Last year’s most profitable day was the Kepke wedding….” They both laughed, taking in the complete awkwardness of that moment. “Let’s not go there.”

      “Agreed.” Keith coughed. “So what you are saying is maybe we should celebrate the weekend after Valentine’s Day.”

      She gave his hand a light squeeze. “That sounds perfect.” Please do something romantic anyway, she thought. The guilt behind that thought came instantly. Women were crazy, and she was one of them.

      As predicted, Valentine’s Day was a hellish blur of last-minute phone calls and red roses. It was 5:45 p.m., and Elly was about to cut off the orders when the phone rang again, rattling her nerves. Elly kept frantically designing with one hand and answering the phone on the other. A snide and bossy husband was on the line, “I sure hope I’m not too late to order flowers for Valentine’s Day for my wife.”

      Elly rolled her eyes and gestured to Snarky Teenager, who was arranging fuchsia heather into a giant heart. She glanced at the clock. “Well, sir, it’s almost six p.m. on Valentine’s Day, so I would say you are cutting it a little close.” She heard a dissatisfied grunt. “Sir, are you there?”

      “Well, what can you do for me?”

      “We are open until seven p.m. tonight. I’ll be happy to put something beautiful together for you, but we cannot do any more deliveries. Oh, and it will not be red roses, as of noon today we were all out, but may I suggest some pink ranunculus and—” The man hung up the phone.

      Elly slammed the receiver down. Kim and Snarky Teenager looked up at her. “I hate this holiday.” She picked a thorn out of her thumb. “And I hate red roses.”

      Anthony, her other designer—a dapper black man in his mid-fifties, and Snarky Teenager gave each other a secret smile and turned back to their arrangements. They had always been chummy. Elly wasn’t feeling the love and tried to rectify her mood. Keith hadn’t even been in the store today, whereas Sean, Kim’s husband, had already brought by a cookie bouquet plus a bottle of wine for everyone and surprised Kim with tickets for a weekend in Paris. Seriously, a weekend in Paris? Who does that? Sean Creeden, that’s who. What a tool. She knew she shouldn’t be jealous, but she was. The rest of the day, Elly had