Flowers were one of the few things my mother and I both appreciated together. Without even trying she taught me how there is a flower for every occasion, each one with a meaning and a story to tell. Eleanor always wanted the fanciest in-season flowers she could get. But the way she spoke about flowers always stuck with me. I wanted to help people show their feelings through flowers. I get to be a tiny part of people’s everyday lives, when words aren’t enough – the flowers speak for themselves.

As February comes to a close and we get closer to spring, the flowers around me are shifting colours from the passionate reds of roses and chrysanthemums to bright tulips and hyacinths. February is both a dream and a nightmare, roses of all colours line the walls and I make bouquet after bouquet for Valentine’s. March is always a nice reprieve, a slower time filled with Easter excitement.

By the time afternoon starts to draw closer, I have made a beautiful arrangement for a birthday gift as well as met with a soon-to-be bride to discuss what flowers will be in season for her autumn nuptials. When Lyndsey walks through the door I barely feel like any time has passed.

I’m eating lunch at my desk when she saunters through the doors. “Hello,” she says cheerily.

“Afternoon,” I reply. She parks herself in the chair next to me, pulling out a tub of leftover pasta. She waves her hand at me like she is waiting for me to speak, but I have no idea what she wants from me. I’ve already told her everything: Liam and I are going to co-parent and we have spent time together getting to know each other again. That is really all there is to tell.

“Well…” Lyndsey prods.

I roll my eyes at her as a smirk spreads across my face, “I promise, if anything changes you’ll be the first to know, but it’s still business as usual.”

She scoffs in response, clearly disappointed. As her anticipation for news dulls, I fill her in on what I need her to do this afternoon. Lyndsey was built to work with the public: she has a smile that lights up a room. Her only downfall is how much she hates paperwork. I do as much of it as I can so she can shine in front of our customers. But since my bridal appointment ran over this morning there is more for her to do than usual.

“Yay, my favourite,” she says sarcastically, looking at the computer screen on my desk.