Chapter 1 - THE MAN WHO STILL HAD TO PAY
Maggie Sullivan had seen almost every kind of heartbreak walk through Sullivan’s Flowers.
She had watched college boys panic over forgotten anniversaries, widowers stand silently beside their wives’ favorite tulips, and nervous grooms nearly faint before their weddings.
But she had never watched a man get dumped while buying three dozen red roses.
Especially not Vincent Moretti.
At thirty-eight, Vincent looked exactly like the kind of man Chicago newspapers described carefully. Tall. Controlled. Expensive dark suit. A black wool coat. A silver watch worth more than Maggie’s delivery van.
His family owned hotels, restaurants, warehouses, parking structures, and enough legitimate businesses to make anyone forget the darker stories people whispered about the Moretti name.
That afternoon, Vincent stood beside Maggie’s Valentine display while his girlfriend, Claire, ended their relationship over the phone.
Claire told him he did not know how to make room for another person.
Everything with him was scheduled. Dinners. Weekends. Apologies.
Even flowers.
Then she hung up.
Vincent stared at the thirty-six roses he had ordered.
Maggie offered him exactly three seconds of sympathy before pushing the receipt across the counter.
“You still have to pay for the roses.”
Vincent stared at her.
She reminded him that his emotional catastrophe had occurred after she had spent forty-seven minutes preparing the order.
To Maggie’s surprise, Vincent laughed.
It was not the polished laugh of a powerful businessman.
It sounded rusty.
Real.
When he asked what he was supposed to do with three dozen unwanted roses, Maggie suggested taking them to a nursing home.
“There are women over seventy who haven’t received flowers in twenty years,” she told him. “They’ll survive your heartbreak.”
He left with the roses.
Maggie assumed that would be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
The following afternoon, at exactly 2:17, the bell above Sullivan’s Flowers rang.
Vincent Moretti walked inside.
Maggie looked up from a bucket of hydrangeas.
“Oh, no.”
He stopped.
“No?”
“Please don’t tell me she changed her mind.”
“She didn’t.”
“Good.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“For my inventory,” Maggie explained.
Vincent almost smiled.
Then Maggie put down her clippers.
“So why are you here?”
This time, Vincent did not smile.
May you like
He reached slowly inside his coat.
And placed an old photograph on her counter.
