Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
It was going to feel like losing everything.
CHAPTER 8
Gianna
Istood in my flower shop at seven in the morning, arranging white roses and eucalyptus for a funeral service, trying to lose myself in the familiar rhythm of stems and wire and careful placement. The work usually calmed me, but today my hands shook as I trimmed the rose stems, and I’d already pricked my finger twice on thorns I should have seen coming.
Three days had passed since my argument with Colby, and the careful distance we’d maintained felt like a chasm neither of us knew how to cross. We spoke only about Luca’s needs: homework, soccer practice, what to pack for lunch. We moved around each other in the kitchen like polite strangers, avoiding touch, and eye contact that lasted too long.
At night, we lay on opposite sides of his king-size bed with an ocean of space between us, both pretending to sleep while the tension crackled like electricity in the dark.
The bell above my shop door chimed, and I looked up to see Summer entering with two cups of coffee and a concerned expression.
“You look terrible,” she said without preamble.
“Good morning to you too.” I accepted the coffee gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma. “Rough night.”
“Another one?” Summer perched on my work stool, studying my face with the intensity of someone who’d known me long enough to read between the lines. “Want to talk about it?”
I focused on the roses, arranging them in a cascade that would drape beautifully over the casket. “Not much to talk about.”
“Gianna.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “I’ve watched you work yourself into the ground this week. You’re here before dawn, you barely eat, and yesterday you put baby’s breath with sunflowers, which you would never do if your head was on straight.”
I glanced at the arrangement she mentioned, still sitting unfinished on my back counter. She was right. The combination looked amateur, sloppy. Not like my work at all.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. And neither is Colby, from what Cory tells me. Whatever’s going on between you two, it’s affecting everyone around you.”
I set down my scissors and finally looked at her directly. “What do you mean?”
“Luca asked Marcus yesterday if grown-ups could stop being happy.” Summer’s expression softened. “That little boy is picking up on the tension, honey. Kids always do.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Luca—sweet, innocent Luca who just wanted his family to stay together—was already sensing that something was wrong. The very thing we’d been trying to protect him from was happening anyway.
“We’ve been careful,” I said weakly.
“Have you? Because from the outside, it looks like two people who are desperately in love but too scared to admit it.”
I turned back to the roses, unable to handle the knowing look in her eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“Love usually is.”
“This isn’t about love. It’s about . . .” I trailed off, realizing I couldn’t explain the arrangement without revealing the truth about our marriage. “It’s about doing what’s best for Luca.”
“And what’s best for Luca is having two parents who are miserable?”
“We’re not miserable.”
Summer raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’re arranging funeral flowers at seven the morning instead of having breakfast with your family, and Colby’s apparently been working in his shop until midnight every night this week.”
I hadn’t known about the late nights in his workshop, but it made sense. We were both finding excuses to avoid being alone together, afraid of the tension that simmered between us whenever Luca wasn’t around to provide a buffer.
“Sometimes space is healthy,” I said.
“Space, yes. Emotional walls, no.” Summer hopped off the stool and moved closer. “Gianna, I don’t know what happened between you and Colby, but I do know that man looks at you like you hung the moon. And you light up around him and Luca in a way I’ve never seen before.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then help me understand. Because right now, it looks like you’re both throwing away something beautiful out of fear.”
Before I could respond, the shop door chimed again. This time it was Mrs. Henderson, picking up the centerpieces for her daughter’s engagement party. I forced a bright smile and helped her load the arrangements into her car, grateful for the interruption.
But after she left, Summer was still there, waiting with the patience of a friend who refused to be dismissed.
“I have feelings for him,” I admitted quietly. “Real feelings. But I’m not sure if they’re genuine or just a product of the situation we’re in.”
“What situation?”
I chose my words carefully. “Living together, taking care of Luca together, playing house. It’s easy to confuse proximity and shared responsibility with love.”
“Is it? Because I’ve lived with roommates before, and I never wanted to marry any of them.”
Despite everything, I smiled at that. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Isn’t it? You’re two adults sharing a home and raising a child. If that doesn’t create real feelings, nothing will.”