Lilies? Roses? What color said I’m into you, don’t hurt me?

Did she even like flowers?

“Hey, Reed, how are you?” Mrs. Cartwright came from the back, carrying several poinsettias.

He rushed to help her with them. “I’m great, Mrs. C. I’m just looking for something for a...friend.”

She set her poinsettia down and glanced at the bag of breakfast on the counter. “One-night stand, you mean?” She wiped her hands on her apron.

“Um...” They had had sex, but this was definitely not a one-night stand. “No. We’ve known each other for years actually.” He glanced at the poinsettia in his arms. “Think she’d like this?”

“Is she seventy?”

“No.”

“Then probably not. Besides, you can’t have these around Diva.”

Right. “Well, I’m open to suggestions.”

Picking up her glasses, she slid them on, approaching the freezer. “Well, what kind of flowers does she like?”

Reed shrugged. “She doesn’t strike me as someone who’d like roses... Would daisies seem too cheap?”

“Do you want to have sex with her again?”

He blushed. Discussing his sex life with the eighty-two-year-old woman who’d known him since he was ten was a little weird. “I’d like that very much, yes,” he mumbled.

“Okay. What’s her favorite color?”

“Not sure.” She wore a lot of red. The more vibrant the shade the better. It contrasted beautifully with her dark hair and eyes...

“Her birthday?”

Shit. He should know this one. But he couldn’t remember her ever having a birthday party. Too bad he couldn’t text Cass—she’d know all of this. He bit his lip. “Sometime in summer, I think?”

Mrs. Cartwright rolled her eyes. “What are her hobbies? What is she into?”

“She’s a workaholic, so I don’t think she has any.” He was confident in that answer at least.

The older lady sighed. “I have just the thing.”

“I knew you would.”

Going behind the counter, she picked up a small hardcover book and handed it to him. “This is for you. Not her.”

Things You Should Know About a Woman Before Sleeping With Her. Romance Advice from Fifty Years of Marriage. Written by Mrs. C.

Reed cleared his throat. “Right. Thank you,” he said, tucking the book into his coat pocket.

“That will be sixteen dollars,” she said.

“What? I thought it was a gift?” He reached for his wallet.

“There’s solid gold relationship advice in that book—that shit’s not free.”

He laughed. “I’m sure it’s worth every penny.” And she did have a point. For knowing Erika almost his entire life, he didn’t know much about her.