Bouquet

More than anything, it had just sort of happened. Fresh off of his first tour of service, Gabriel Reyes had been helping his sister prepare for her upcoming wedding. Mostly he was keeping her from pulling out her hair or the hair of her wedding coordinator, but helping nonetheless.

It had been the flowers, though. His sister’s wedding planner sat prim and proper across the table pointing her perfectly manicured nails at picture after picture of arrangements in her encyclopedia’s worth of binders. It was exhausting and he could see his sister’s patience wearing thinner and thinner by the moment. They had that in common.

“Can’t we just pick some flowers and put them in jars and call it a day?” Gabe all but growled at the wedding planner, and watched her plastered-on smile slip a bit.

“You most certainly cannot!” She had roared back at him, and that had been the end of that.

You most certainly could just pick flowers and put them in jars and call it a day, Gabe found. In fact, there was something very peaceful about setting up each table’s centerpiece, something relaxing about setting the garlands around the venue, and something very rewarding about hearing every mother on the block gush about how beautiful his baby sister looked surrounded by white hyacinths, pink roses and crisp green foliage.

Of course everyone wanted to know who’d arranged the flowers and, of course, Gabriel’s sister was all too happy to tell them her own brother had done them for her; how he’d fought off the horrible wedding planner who’d tried to ruin her big day (and maybe, just this once, Gabe didn’t think to call her out on her exaggerations). And of course, he had other members of the wedding party wanting him to help plan their future weddings’ floral arrangements. But Gabe was just looking for stability, especially after just coming back from overseas. He wanted something secure and constant. So of course, someone knew of a flower shop that needed an extra set of hands.

It had belonged to the mother of a boyfriend to one of the bridesmaids in his sister’s wedding, he thinks. Or maybe not. It’s not important anymore. He’d been hired under the pretenses of just cleaning up, manning the tills and occasionally offering advice to customers. Two years, one retirement party and one name change later, Gabe finds himself the owner of Death Blossom which, despite the incredibly off putting name, has become the local go-to place for floral arrangements of any kind; especially weddings.

He’s been running the shop on his own for the past five years.

“When are you going to change that awful name?” Amélie, his current client and unfortunately probably the closest thing he has to a best friend, groans for the millionth time from the counter as Gabe emerges from the back room, dusting potting soil off his work apron.

“When it stops getting me so many curious walk-in clients. You’d be surprised how many people who just want to take a peek around the place end up leaving with a bouquet for their significant other in hand.”

Amélie’s lip twitches at him in feigned disgust.

“Maybe it reminds them that death comes to all and to cherish the ones they love while they can.” He waxes in a forced dramatic tone.

“I don’t know why I support you financially.” Amélie sighs.

“Because you have a fiancé whom you love very much and are trying to give her the best possible wedding.” Gabe remembers Amélie burst into his tiny apartment above the shop one night in tears, wailing about how her life was ending. He’s assumed she’d been fired from her job (which she weirdly never spoke of in any specifics) or perhaps even charged with murder to draw that reaction; he’d never once seen her cry in all the time he’d known her. What he hadn’t been expecting was her to describe the cute, exuberant girl she’d met and how she’d just been on the best date of her life.

That’d been a year ago, and Gabe had also been there the night Amélie had all but kicked his door down, velvet ring box in hand, to announce that she was ready to propose to Lena. It hadn’t even been up for discussion that he’d arrange the flowers for the wedding.

Their meeting today was all business though. Gabe would go with Amélie to the venue where Lena would be waiting with a few other members of the bridal party to get ideas and make plans for decorations so everything at the wedding would coordinate.

Just a short drive later, the pair arrived at their desired location. The wedding venue was a spacious banquet hall of a hotel all the guests would be staying at, and opened into an expansive outdoor patio that would serve as a great reception area. As Gabe and Amélie walked the perimeter to get a feel for the space, he could hear Lena’s loud machine gun chatter bounce off the walls as she rounded the corner.

“Amélie! You’re already here!” She shouted, rushing across the banquet hall to greet her fiancé. Gabe would have been amused by the display if he hadn’t been distracted by the group that had arrived with his friend’s fiancé.

There were two women, one blonde with a sunny disposition and the other with dark braided hair and an air of calm about her, gazing upon the engaged couple with looks that Gabe knew from previous events spoke of future clients, as well as a sturdy, hairy man in a cowboy hat. Trailing behind them was a handsome man with blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes, who was staring at Gabe like he’d just seen a ghost.

Lena, who was normally not one for social cues, seemed to pick up on the awkwardness of their group.

“This is Amélie’s friend Gabriel,” she chirped. “He’ll be doing the floral arrangements and will also be part of the wedding party. Gabriel, this is Angela, Fareeha, Jesse and Jack.”

“You can call be Gabe.” He said, taking a moment to shake each of their hands in what he hoped was profession but also casual around people who we would probably being seeing much more of in the near future. The blonde man, Jack, still seemed shell-shocked by Gabe’s presence, if his tense white-knuckled handshake was anything to go by.

“Is there shit on my face or something, pal?” Gabe asked, and Jack must have quickly realized he was attempting to crush his hand and suddenly let go, coloring with embarrassment. It might have even been charming if Gabe weren’t so used to people finding his presence to be intimidating.

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly, with Lena rattling off every idea she could think of to be included in the wedding, with Amélie interjecting every now and then to keep her from overwhelming their companions. Angela was having a quiet conversation with Fareeha, while Jesse would occasionally mutter something into Jack’s ear and then laugh loudly while the blonde man reddened in embarrassment or even, at one specific point, punch the cowboy none too lightly in the shoulder.

Gabe observed the group quietly and would occasionally discuss different color combination and flower preferences with the couple. As afternoon turned into evening, Lena seemed to visibly tire and announced her hunger to the group in hopes of giving everyone a bit of respite from all the planning. With no hesitation, Amélie acquiesced to take the group out to eat, concluding their work for the day.

“You up for some drinks Gabriel?” She questioned with a single arched eyebrow. Gabe could sense her pleading him to join the group that was no doubt mostly friends of Lena’s.

“I’ve got to get back and clean up the shop for the evening, thanks for the invite though.” He said with a wave, not missing Amélie’s scowl nor the look of disappointment that flashed across Jack’s face for a mere instant.

How interesting.

For a moment Gabe considered changing his decision, but he really did have cleaning to do, and a new shipment of flowers would arrive in the morning that he’d have to be prepared for. Amélie and her fiancé’s friends would have to wait until another time.

---

“Morrison kept asking questions about you. I said he’d have to ask you next time. Which will happen because you won’t chicken out to go jerk it alone, surrounded by flowers.”

“Nice to see you too, Amélie. Which one is Morrison? The cowboy?”

Amélie snorted while she played with the petals on one of the large sunflowers in the corner of the shop.

“As if. Morrison. You know, pretty boy. Wouldn’t stop looking at your ass the whole time we walked the venue.”

That’s not the response Gabe was expecting.

“He kept looking at me funny. Like I stepped in shit or something and he didn’t know how to tell me.”

He could hear Amélie snort again.

“More like he didn’t know how to ask you for your number. You better come out for drinks next time Lena gets her little gang together. I may not be on the dating scene anymore but that doesn’t mean I can’t live vicariously through your pathetic romantic life.”

She’s cut off from saying anything else when Gabe tosses a handful of potting soil at her.

---

Next time comes sooner than Gabe expects, when Amélie calls him the next evening and threatens to poison all his flowers if he doesn’t tag along this time.

“I need someone with me who’s not a complete optimist all the time. I love Lena and her friends are nice but sometimes I’d just like to bitch about my day without them trying to find a silver lining.”

“Aw Amélie,” Gabe sing-songs in to his cell phone as he closes up the shop and waits for the telltale engine roar of her sports car to pick him up. “It’s almost like you like me.”

“Don’t get a big head Gabriel. I’m just using you for your flower arrangements.” There’s a noise in the background like she’s taken the phone away from her ear.

“Lena’s calling again, probably wondering why we’re not fifteen minutes early like her and the sunshine gang. I’ll see you in five.” And hangs up without so much as a goodbye.

It’s ten minutes later when Gabe pulls his beanie low on his head in the evening chill and adjusts his sweatshirt as he watches Amélie’s car zip around the corner and pull up to the curb. She’s still on the phone; not talking but making small noises every so often, no doubt listening to one of Lena’s usual tales.

They pull up at the bar; a quiet place with cheap drinks and half decent food. Besides Lena’s group there are a few others scattered around the bar, a table that looks like some people freshly off work, a few patron coupled up at tables here and there that might be out on dates. It’s casual, which Gabe can appreciate.

Lena bounds over in her usual greeting of trying to hug as much of Amélie at once as she physically can. Gabe recognizes Angela and Fareeha from before, the cowboy is thankfully nowhere to be seen, but is instead replaced by young man who can’t be much older than the drinking age who has a dopey smile and disastrous green hair. Next to him there’s a man who appears to be around the same age who has his deadlocks pulled up into a high ponytail and seems preoccupied with his headphones. Jack sits nervously at the end of the table, casting looks at the empty seat next to him while pretending to text on his phone.

“Well now that the slowpokes are here we can finally order!” Lena cheers dropping into one of the two empty seats next to each other on the opposite end of the table, leaving Gabe to take the one next to Jack. Amélie casts him a smug look that he arches one eyebrow to haughtily, but he’s not going to argue with the arrangement. Not yet, anyways.

“It’s nice to see you again, we didn’t get to talk to you much at the hotel.” The words seem to explode from Jack the moment Gabe is seated. He reminds him of a golden retriever puppy; over eager and constantly tripping over its own clumsy self.

“Well I was there for business, unlike the rest of you.” He counters. It’s true, he’s technically being employed by Amélie to do the flowers for her wedding, but he is also part of the bridal party. But if Gabe isn’t as chatty and outgoing as the rest of the group, then that’s his own business.

“True, but Ms. Lacroix mentioned you’d be in the wedding too.”

Gabe laughs at the grumbled “For fuck’s sake call me Amélie, Jack.” From across the table and leans in conspiringly, motioning for Jack to do the same. Heads hunched together close with the ambient rabble of the bar in the background, Gabe figures now is a good a time as any to test Amélie’s theory.

“Between you and me,” he starts, voice low and rumbling. “I think Amélie just needs me to stand there and look pretty for her wedding pictures. I’ve been known to cut a fine figure in a suit.”

He gets more than the reaction he expected. Jack’s eyes, while never leaving his face, go distant for a second before refocusing on him. And he certainly doesn’t miss the split second where the blonde’s gaze drops to his lips before reestablishing eye contact.

Maybe Amélie wasn’t fucking with him after all.

“I’m glad they’ve chosen to have a more private affair.” Jack says with almost forced disinterest, hands playing with a napkin on the table.

“Just the families and bridal party, plus their dates.”

Gabe can read him from a mile away, and takes the bait.

“You got a date all planned then, Captain Rogers?” The exasperated laugh Jack lets out leads Gabe to believe he’s gotten that comparison before. Maybe a few too many times.

Jack runs a hand nervously (the same hand that’d been fiddling with the napkin, Gabe notices) through his already-quite-ruffled hair and is about to answer when a waiter suddenly appears at the table, asking for drink orders to start.

The conversation is derailed, at least momentarily, as Lena asks the waiter in-depth questions about how every drink is made and tries to guess the orders of everyone around the table, with very little success. Amélie catches Gabe’s eye from where she’s seated across the table and raises one shoulder slightly in question. He mimics the motion back at her and sees more than hears the “tsk” noise she makes in response.

If she were really keen on getting involved with his love life (or lack thereof, he supposes) she could at least try to hook him up with someone with a bit more initiative.

But the night is still young and they’ve just ordered their first round of drinks. He figures he might as well give Jack a chance, if he’s willing to step up and take it.