“If I have to look at one more God damn pink carnation, I’m going to hurt someone. Badly. Fatally,” Vivian Sloan muttered as she secured the last sprig of ivy amidst the floral confection of pink and red flowers.

 

Taryn Marx sighed as she sprayed an ornate bouquet of roses with silver spackle, dusting the tips with glittering sparkles. “Viv, you know this is our busiest week. Half…no two-thirds…of our entire annual revenue comes from this week alone. Christ! Men all over Cedar Grove are ordering flowers as we speak for the wives and girlfriends. Without…”

 

“And do you know why?” Vivian interrupted, securing the crimson ribbon around the vase’s neck.

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Viv. Because they love them?” Taryn replied with sarcasm.

 

Vivian placed the design on the pick-up counter and turned toward Taryn. “There is one reason and one reason alone that man would spend $140 on a rose arrangement.”

 

Taryn eyed Vivian skeptically, placing her hands on her slender hips. “And what would that be, all knowing one?”

 

Vivian smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Sex. Plain and simple.”

 

“Jesus, Viv! Are you for real?”

 

Vivian couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up from her throat, her fingertips peeling the next order off the stack in front of her. “You’re still upset about Ben, aren’t you?” Taryn stated more than asked. “Honey, it’s not your fault that it ended. There will be other guys. Don’t let Ben ruin your views on relationships and love.”

 

Vivian glared at Taryn. “This has nothing to do with Ben. My views on love were tarnished long before that selfish sonofabitch entered the picture,” she snapped. “Love. What is love? It’s nothing but a marketing ploy to dupe gullible morons into buying chocolates, cards, and plastic bullshit,” she spat, gathering the materials she’d need for the next customer.

 

“Vivie, stop talking like that. You know as well as I do that you don’t honestly believe that,” Taryn scolded, tucking the strands of ebony hair behind Vivian’s ear so she could look into her face. Tears glistened on her onyx lashes, two beads of crystalline moisture dribbling down her olive-toned cheeks.

 

Vivian sniffled. “I know, Taryn. I know. I can’t keep deluding myself into thinking that I’m something I’m not. I am a hopeless romantic.” She paused. “I want the chocolates and the cards and the plastic bullshit. I want strong arms to comfort me when I’m blue. Soft hands to caress me when I’m longing. But more importantly, I want someone who’ll listen to me for a change. Not someone who’ll come in, grab a beer, and bitch about their day for ten hours but then won’t even listen to me for ten seconds.” She lifted her eyes to Taryn’s azure gaze, another tear cascading down her cheek. “Is that too much to ask for?”

 

Taryn stared into Vivian’s tear-laden, almond-colored eyes. “Oh, sweetheart,” she sighed before gathering Vivian into her arms. “You’re always welcome to join Diego and me for dinner on Valentine’s Day,” Taryn stated.

 

Vivian pulled herself from Taryn’s embrace and wiped the straggling tears from her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, Taryn. But I’m not going to be the third wheel. Spend the time with your husband. Not me.” She raked her hand through her hair, pushing the silken black strands away from her face. “Another fucking carnation,” she mumbled, tossing the pink flower to the counter top. “Can you handle things for a minute? I need some fresh air,” she said to Taryn.

 

Taryn nodded. “No problem, Viv. Take your time,” Taryn replied, picking up the discarded flower and trimming the end for its position in the green florist’s sponge.

 

Vivian pushed open the service door, letting it slam shut behind her, and flopped down onto an overturned rose crate from that morning’s delivery.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Can I help you find something, sir?” Taryn asked the tall, dark-haired gentleman who seemed lost in the aisles of balloons, trinkets, and floral creations.

 

He lifted up a mug of Hershey’s Kisses, eyeing the price tag that marked the bottom, and let a thin stream of shocked breath through his thin lips. “No thanks, m’am. I’m just browsing,” he answered.

 

“Okay. Well, take your time and when you’re ready, Enid can take your order at the front desk,” Taryn replied, resuming toward the design table from her journey to the rest room. Vivian had returned from the frosty February air and stood at the table shoving a cluster of pink carnations into a vase of a similar color.

 

“Honey, you will not believe the fox that’s roaming the aisles out there. I tell you, if I wasn’t a happily married woman, I would be all over him like stink on shit!” Taryn admitted, brushing the fern sheddings onto the linoleum.

 

Vivian laughed softly. “Is this the balding man with the wart on the side of his face or the guy with six fingers on his left hand?” she asked jokingly.

 

“Better than both of those hunks!” Taryn cried. “Take a look,” she ordered, ushering Vivian toward the split door. Vivian sighed and stuck her head over the bottom half, Taryn mimicking her movement. “Just look at him. The way he holds himself. The way he walks with fluidity and grace. That man is Grade A Prime Choice American Beef!” Taryn gushed.

 

Vivian couldn’t speak. He was beautiful. Hair the color of fudge and eyes greener than the hills of Ireland. Broad shoulders that he held with dignity and poise. “Now, why can’t I meet a man like that?” she asked quietly, the question aimed more at herself that at Taryn.

 

“Well, I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing a piece of jewelry indicating his betrothal,” Taryn remarked, chuckling slightly.

 

“Couldn’t help but notice? Taryn, that’s the first thing you look for,” Vivian stated playfully. “And it appears that Mister Wonderful is buying flowers. For whom? Himself?” she added.

 

“His mother?” Taryn suggested.

 

“Forget it, T. I’m not going to find Mister Right in a flower shop,” Vivian resigned, returning to the table and her bouquet of coral flora.