Flowers could completely change a space.
The right centerpiece could make a plain table romantic. Greenery and candlelight could soften a cold ballroom. A nervous bride could relax the moment someone handed her a bouquet.
After Adrian died, even looking at a bridal bouquet reminded me of the one I had chosen for myself.
So I stopped accepting weddings.
For weeks, I handled birthdays, corporate events, and sympathy arrangements instead.
Anything except weddings.
Even hearing the word “fiancé” made my stomach tighten.
Eventually, though, bills forced me back.
Grief did not stop rent, supplier invoices, or shop expenses.
So three months after Adrian’s funeral, I agreed to take wedding jobs again.
I told myself work might help.
That morning, another florist I sometimes worked with called in sick and asked me to cover a wedding.
She sounded miserable.
“I know it’s last minute,” she said. “I wouldn’t ask unless I really needed you.”
