Chapter Fourteen

Tommy sat stiffly across from his mother, fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the armrest. A million and one thoughts were racing through his head. And not even one promised to deliver a positive outcome.

Allison sighed impatiently after a minute of the heavy silence. Not only did she not have total control but now she had to fake consideration.

Those were two things she hated.

"So," she said crisply, "do we agree on the terms or not? I don't have all day Tommy."

Tommy exhaled slowly. "I'll do the PR appearance. But I want to tell Evie first. She doesn't deserve to be blindsided."

Allison gave a small, humorless smile. "Good."

Then she dropped the bomb, "I admire your loyalty. Unfortunately, the announcement already went live about an hour ago. We can't delay motion for sentiment."

She said the words like she was giving a weather report. Calmly and in a matter of fact tone.

Tommy shot to his feet, outraged. "What the hell, Mom? You said—"

"I said we'd keep you in the loop. And we did. It's not our fault we're a few paces ahead of you."

Tommy bit back a curse and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His mother rolled her eyes at the frantic way he tapped on the screen.

"Stop acting as if there's some huge fire on the mountain," she drawled.

Tommy ignored her but his jaw tightened as he dialed Evie's number.

It rang but there was no answer.

He tried again and it was the same thing. He got sent to voicemail.

"Damnit, Evie," he muttered.

He texted her: We need to talk. I need you to know that I didn't approve that story. Please pick up.

But the message remained unread.

Allison leaned back in her chair, looking pleased with herself. "Tommy, sweetheart. When you're trying to save a brand, hesitation is the most dangerous choice of all."

"Everything is about branding to you, isn't it?"

"Yes, of course. The Mackenzie empire is the epitome of an elite brand built through years of dedication and hardwork." The words were coated with pride.

Her response magnified Tommy's irritation. He had never wanted to throw something so badly. But all he could do was pace and resist the urge to yell at his mother.

"You're making it worse," he muttered. "All of this is just making everything worse."

"On the contrary," Allison said smoothly. "We're making it survivable for you."

Tommy paced to the window and back, body tense with agitation. "Not everything is about me! This is the last thing Evie needs to see right now. But you don't even care about that."

"Oh, well. She shouldn't have stepped into our world if she wasn't prepared for the weight of it."

***

The flower shop still smelled of broken petals and bleach.

Evie was on her knees, sleeves pushed up as she scrubbed at the last smear of red paint on the tile floor. The air was heavy with floral ghosts and paint thinner, and she'd already lost count of how many times she'd wiped the same spot.

Her phone vibrated on the counter but she ignored it. Her hands were raw and her head was somewhere else entirely.

The screen lit up again and she moved to check it. It read: Tommy Mackenzie

She stared at it for a long second, fought off the instinctive urge to answer the call and looked away.

Tara hovered by the register, anxiety radiating off her in waves. "Evie, I'm not kidding. You need to see what's trending."

"I said I'm not checking anything right now," Evie murmured, not looking at her.

"You might want to make an exception for—"

"I mean it, Tara. I don't need another reason to question reality."

Tommy's name flashed across the screen again, buzzing with insistence. It was a text message this time. Still, she ignored it.

Tara gave her a look. "What if it's something important?"

Evie cracked her neck, groaning at the stiffness. Her back ached and her wrists were sore from hours of cleaning. She hadn't wanted to outsource the work to any cleaning agency. This shop was her baby and she would give it the care it needed.

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Definitely not him."

"Oh," that response clued Tara in on who it was.

"I know you're hurting, but hiding from the truth won't help," she added helpfully.

Evie flinched at her words and pursed her lips. "I think you should check out what needs to be done in the back room."

Tara exhaled hard and backed off, shooting one last worried glance at her phone's screen before slipping into the back room.

Some minutes later, the bell above the shop door jingled.

Evie straightened in surprise and turned.

She wasn't expecting deliveries and the shop was still closed to customers.

Alexa Donovan stood in the doorway like she owned the ground beneath her heels. With her glossy hair, tailored coat and a subtle dusting of press-perfect makeup, she looked like she'd stepped out of a Vogue editorial and accidentally wandered into someone else's tragedy.

Evie's breath caught in shock. This was the last person she expected to see.

They'd never met in person before, but Alexa needed no introduction. The tabloids had done that already, in bold red font.

"Miss Johnson," Alexa said, smiling. "I hope I'm not intruding."

Evie wiped her hands on her apron, suddenly all too aware of the faded paint stains on her jeans. "Um. No… I just… wasn't expecting company."

"Oh, I figured," Alexa replied, glancing around the ruined space like it was a mildly interesting art installation. "I was in the area. Thought I'd stop by and offer my sympathy. It's such a shame, what happened here. It looks like a place that had... character."

Evie's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

She nodded stiffly, unsure if that was a compliment or a jab.

Alexa stepped closer, the sharp click of her heels echoing too loudly. "You know, I've seen places bounce back from worse. You just need the right story. Something fresh. Clean. Palatable." She tilted her head. "And strategic, of course."

Evie's hands instinctively folded in front of her. "I… I'm managing."

"Mm. Of course you are."

Clearly, the opposite was the case.

"I felt it was time we met," Alexa continued, stepping further in. "After all, it seems we've shared a stage for long enough. Might as well do it in person."

"This isn't a stage," Evie said quietly. This is my life. And it's turned upside down.

"Isn't it?" Alexa's eyes glinted. "Oh, Evie. Everything's a stage when you're in a story that doesn't belong to you."

Evie folded her arms, trying to stay calm. "Why are you here?"

"To offer a little grace," Alexa said. "And a parting gift."

She walked slowly through the shop, glancing at the flowers like a queen inspecting peasant goods. Her gaze lingered on the single, wilted orchid by the front window.

"You must be tired," she said without looking at Evie. "It's exhausting, isn't it? Pretending you belong in rooms built for someone else."

Evie felt the words like pinpricks. "You don't know me."

"But I've studied you," Alexa replied softly. "And you know what I see? A beautiful mess trying desperately to be neat."

Alexa turned and ran her gaze over Evie's body. The wrinkle of her nose made it clear that she found the visual lacking.

Evie was wearing worn jeans, faded at the knees, and a long-sleeved shirt dusted with specks of paint and pollen. Her apron was creased and stained, evidence of a long morning spent scrubbing, lifting, and grieving in silence.

At that moment, the back door opened quietly and Tara's head popped out. She froze and her eyes narrowed as she spotted Alexa standing too close to Evie, voice smooth and poisonous.

Evie caught her in the corner of her vision and subtly shook her head in a silent signal: Let it be.

This wasn't her fight and the last thing Evie wanted was for the drama to escalate.

Tara hovered for a second longer, then reluctantly backed away, the door closing silently behind her.

Oblivious to their communication, Alexa reached into her bag and pulled out a folded magazine. With deliberate grace, she placed it on the counter. And as if that wasn't enough, she nudged it towards Evie.

Evie didn't have to open it to know the contents.

The bold headline said it all:

"Tommy & Alexa: Rebuilding Legacy, One Step at a Time"

Evie's fingers trembled slightly as she touched the cover. Her eyes burned, but she wouldn't give Alexa the satisfaction.

Alexa leaned in, voice soft and syrupy. "A lovely photo, isn't it? It's an early release, specially made for me. They chose one of my favorites."

She smiled but it never reached her eyes.

Evie gripped the edge of the counter. "I think you should go."

"Of course." Alexa turned on her heel with a practiced elegance. "I didn't mean to stay long. I just thought it was time we got... acquainted. Face to face."

At the door, she paused.

"Oh — and Evie?" she added without turning back. "Next time, maybe pick someone in your own league. I admire the audacity but this is not a battle you're made for. Wallflowers always get crushed, remember that."

The door jingled again as it shut behind her.

Evie stood frozen in the silence.

In her hands, the glossy paper trembled.