Author: Kristan Higgins

Parker laughed. “Okay, got it. It’ll be ready in about half an hour. Do you have a credit-card number?”

“Can he pay cash when he comes by?”

“Sure. Thanks for choosing Blossom.”

Twenty-five years, and the guy was still cheeky, Parker thought, reading the card once more. Poetic, too.

Well. He’d get a beautiful bouquet to bring home to his wife, that was for sure. Not because he was spending a lot, but because he sounded like a good husband. “And let’s face it,” she said to Beauty, “I’m a sucker for love.”

She pulled a dozen yellow roses, some brilliant purple lisianthus, a few deep orange lilies. Four branches of pink phalaenopsis orchid. Some heather and fern. This couple was fun. No mere roses and baby’s breath for them. Something extravagant and vivid and memorable.

She pictured the husband as she worked—somewhere in his fifties, probably, an insurance executive or doctor, maybe. The wife would’ve gotten home a little early, knowing her hubby was not the type to forget their anniversary. The kids were off at college, so the place would be all theirs. He’d come through the door, the beautiful arrangement in one hand, a bottle of bubbly in the other, and she’d be wearing nothing but a smile.

And because he loved her, it wouldn’t matter that she wasn’t twenty-two or thirty or forty anymore. In his eyes, she was truly the most beautiful woman in the world. The thought brought tears to Parker’s eyes. A sucker for love indeed.

“What do you think?” she asked Beauty when she was finished. The dog wagged her tail appreciatively. The bouquet was wildly beautiful, filled with intense colors and odd combinations. She wrapped it in purple tissue paper and tied it with lots of red ribbon.

Then the door to her shop opened, and she looked up, expecting to see her customer.

Instead, it was James.

Her mouth fell open. The rest of her froze.

Beauty, however, had no compunction. She ran over to James, whimpering happily, putting her front paws on his knee. “Hey, girl,” he said, bending to pet her, and oh, that smile, it was even better than she remembered. Beauty began crooning in joy, her tail swishing wildly.

Then he straightened up and looked at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she breathed.

“So. Mickey the Fire Engine. I’m starting to wonder if it’s about more than trucks.”

Her heart was jackhammering so hard she’d bet he could see it, fluttering under her shirt. “It’s an, um, a metaphor.”

“For what?”

Damn if her mind wasn’t completely blank. “Second chances?”

“I see.”

“How are you?” she managed to ask.

“Good. And you?”

“Good.” Crikey. “How’s New York?”

“I don’t know. I live in Providence.”

“You do?”

He nodded.

He lived in Providence. Not New York. “I thought you—”

“I didn’t take the job.”

“Oh.” She sounded like an idiot. Clearing her throat, she said, “Um, James, I’m very happy to see you. And maybe we can have a drink or something, and talk…but I have to wait for a customer. It’s his anniversary—”

James smiled, and her heart seemed to leap toward him. “Oh, right, the flowers. Actually, those are for you.” He nodded at the arrangement she’d just finished. “I’m a couple decades early, but I’m optimistic, too.”

Oh. Oh. She glanced at the card. “Are you… Is…is that a proposal?”

He tilted his head as if thinking. “Yep.”

“A marriage proposal?”

“Yes.”

“I reject it,” she said.

He closed his eyes briefly. “Great.”

“It’s just that I wanted to do the asking.” Holy halos. Where was this coming from?

Go for it, the Holy Rollers said. For a nanosecond, she pictured them, the six angels all in a line, smiling and nodding, Spike in his leather jacket, giving her the thumbs-up.

“I’m waiting,” James said. He was smiling.

“Okay.” Parker’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “James,” she said, her voice wobbling, “I’d really like you to overlook the fact that I was a snob and ignored you and thought you were scum, and then, when we finally did hook up for real, basically jumped at the first chance to ditch you.”

“Do you have any qualities to recommend you?” he asked, laughing, and she smiled, though a couple of tears slid down her cheeks.

“Yes. I do. Um, I’m smart, and a great swimmer, as you know, and once I love someone, I tend to keep them really close, and I think I have a good sense of humor. I put out, as you also know, and I can do all the voices in Harry Potter.” She paused. “Also, I love you. A lot. What do you say?”

“I accept,” he said. “Now could you come out from behind that counter and kiss me?”

She did just that, flew across the small space and wrapped her arms around his neck and looked at him for a second, those beautiful eyes, the smile that took up his whole face.

“Thank God you finally wised up,” he said, and with that, he kissed her, and Parker had to wonder how she ever got so lucky.

EPILOGUE

Eighteen months later

JUST BEFORE IT WAS TIME to walk down the aisle, Parker peeked into the main part of St. Andrew’s. The flowers were amazing—of course, she’d done them herself last night with help from Lavinia. And the place was packed.

The great state of Maine was well represented—Maggie and Malone had come down with their little boy, Aedan, who was happily tugging on his father’s hair at the moment. Lavinia and Dewey sat together; according to Vin, they were back together, having dated sometime in the ’90s. Parker had invited Chantal and Jonah, too, but Chantal was expecting another baby any minute, so they hadn’t been able to make it.

James’s mom had come down with Mary Elizabeth—who was holding her Spike doll, Parker noted. James’s brother Pete and his wife and two daughters had come, too, which was so nice. Mr. Cahill and the other two brothers had opted not to come, but James had been okay with that.

Ellen, Parker’s agent, had come, too. In one of those ironic twists of life, Parker had sent Mickey the Fire Engine to her publisher, though they’d originally rejected it years before. This time, however, the story had been deemed a winner. And while the advance had been hefty and the royalties were flowing in, Parker had decided that being a florist and the wife of an up-and-coming lawyer would ensure a solid living. So once again, all proceeds from the book were going to Save the Children.

Lucy’s aunts and mother, who’d always treated Parker like another niece, were sitting with the elder Mirabellis, as well as with Althea, who wore a fabulous hat. Friends from town, some of Nicky’s schoolmates and their parents. A few Harvard chums, Suze from Miss Porter’s. Lucy was matron of honor, so pretty in her lavender dress. Ethan sat in the front row with their daughter, Lily, who was supposed to have been flower girl but had fallen asleep instead. Taymal, James’s Little Brother, was best man and looked utterly gorgeous in a tux. He was winking at Lucy’s aunts at the moment, causing a ripple of giggles from the two old ladies.

And in the back row, accompanied by a plainclothes guard, was Harry. The judge had granted him a furlough for today. He glanced back, caught her eye and tapped his hand over his heart, and Parker smiled. He was far from perfect, but a woman only got one father.

Well. Time to marry her man. The thought caused a rush of warmth from her toes to her scalp. “You ready?” she asked Nicky.

“Mom, I’ve been ready for nine minutes,” he answered, showing her his watch. Both his front teeth were missing—finally—and the gap gave him an adorable lisp.

Nicky wasn’t giving her away, absolutely not. But he was accompanying her down the aisle.

Parker glanced down at her dress—a simple, pale peach silk dress that stopped just above her knee. No white for her. She was thirty-seven, for heaven’s sake. But Althea had wept in a most gratifying manner when Parker had emerged from the dressing room, and with the bouquet of apricot, cream and white roses and still-green hydrangeas, as well as a few roses in her hair, she felt quite bridal indeed.

“Then let’s get this show on the road,” she said, and Nicky offered his arm with a grin, looking as ever like a miniature of his father. But she could see bits of herself, too. His eyebrows, and maybe his cheekbones.

So many people here, and everyone she loved. Malone grinned, Maggie was smiling and teary-eyed, Vin already sobbing into a bandanna. Her mom blew her a kiss, and Parker returned the gesture. Nicky gave a stately nod to Colette and ducked as Ethan reached out to ruffle his hair.

And James. He was so handsome in his tux, his eyes crinkled with a smile, and he looked completely and utterly sure.

She got to the altar and handed her flowers to Lucy. The music stopped, and everyone sat down. Then she bent down and kissed Nicky twice on the cheek, and he smiled and wiped it off, making everyone laugh. “You can go sit with Daddy, honey,” she whispered.

“In a sec,” he said.

Reverend Covers cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, welcome to this very happy occasion. Before we get started, the groom has asked if he could say something.”

“Be with you in a minute,” James said to Parker, and his smile flashed. He stepped around her and took Nicky’s hand and looked down at him, his face growing solemn.

Oh, man. The tears came in a rush.

“I, James, take you, Nicholas, as my stepson.”

An audible sigh came from the guests. James glanced at her, smiled again and then grew serious as he looked at Nicky. “I promise to love you like you were my own, to always be grateful that you shared your mom with me, never to boss you unless absolutely necessary and to buy you the Lego model of the Death Star that your parents said had too many pieces, which is in my car at this very moment.”

“Yes!” Nicky pumped his fist, and everyone laughed.

“I also promise to let you help name any baby your mom and I might have—”

“Mistake,” Parker said unevenly. “We’ll have a kid named Chewbacca.”

James smiled at her again, and honestly, she hadn’t known it was possible to feel so much happiness, so much love. Then he looked back at her boy. “And, Nicky, I promise always to remember that you were your mom’s son long before I was her husband.”

That was perfect, said Spike. The other Holy Rollers had left her bit by bit, but Spike remained, and Parker was kind of glad.

“Amen,” Nicky said, mugging for the guests and getting a big laugh. “Okay, my turn. I, Nicholas Giacomo Mirabelli, take you, James, as my stepfather.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “I promise to try eating what you cook, even though your food isn’t as good as my dad’s. I also promise to try to keep my room clean and not let Apollo out of his cage without asking. And I’m glad you’re marrying my mom, because she’s really happy. And also, you’re nice.”

“Thank you,” James said, and they shook hands on it, and Nicky got a round of applause as he went to sit in the front row.

Then James took Parker’s hands, and without waiting, gave her a long, hot kiss that made her nearly forget there were a hundred people watching. Then he pulled back and smiled that full, wonderful grin, his dark eyes so happy.

“Parker,” he said, “always lovely to see you.”