Chapter 2

I looked up.

A Squishmallow lay by the door.

The exact same one Michael had given me.

Half an hour later, I was trimming lisianthus when Christy sent me a voice message.

"Hey, did I leave my Squishmallow at your shop?"

I texted back.

[There's a pink one here. I set it aside for you.]

She replied instantly.

[Yes! It's limited edition. My boyfriend gave it to me. I'll come grab it.]

I glanced at mine hanging beside the register.

Two years old.

Its nose was already fading.

Christy's looked brand-new. Soft, fluffy, with glittery eyes.

Half an hour later, the door opened.

Michael walked in.

The second he saw me, he froze. "Eunice."

I set the Squishmallow on the counter. "Thought you were on a business trip."

He didn't look at the toy.

His eyes dropped to my hand.

No ring.

Something flashed across his face, then vanished.

"I was too busy to explain earlier."

"You don't have to."

"Don't be mad." His voice softened. "Christy's family works with my company. I just got promoted. I can't risk pissing her off."

I shoved the Squishmallow toward him.

"Take it to her."

Michael looked at the new Squishmallow, then the faded one in my hand.

He reached for my hair.

I stepped away.

His hand hung there before dropping.

"It's not what you think."

"She thinks you're her boyfriend."

"That's just how girls like her talk." He tightened his grip on the toy. "Eunice, don't make this harder. I need her family's connections right now. Once I land the company's biggest project and prove myself, I'll make it up to you. The house. The wedding. I'll give you double."

I stopped wiping the counter and looked at his fake, shameless face.

My stomach twisted.

Still, I forced a small smile.

"Sure. Good luck."

Relief washed over him.

"I knew you'd understand."

He pulled a stack of cash from his wallet and set it on the counter.

"She already paid for the flowers. This is extra."

I stared at the cash.

"What's this for?"

"Christy has a temper. She hates people touching her stuff." He paused. "If you see her again, don't mention me. Don't give her the wrong idea."

I smiled. "Are you scared she'll get the wrong idea, or find out the truth?"

His face darkened, then softened. "I'm protecting you."

"Protecting me?"

"Her family isn't one we can mess with." He pushed the cash closer. "Just deal with it for now. Don't contact me. Wait until I sort everything out."

"How long?"

Michael looked away. "Not long."

"A month? Six months? Or until you marry her?"

He frowned. "Don't talk like that."

I nodded, picked up the cash, and counted it bill by bill.

A car beeped outside.

Christy walked in wearing sunglasses.

The second she saw Michael at the counter, her voice went cold.

"What took you so long?"

Michael turned and casually handed her the Squishmallow.

"I wanted to make sure the shop owner didn't give you the wrong one."

Christy looked me over. "The wrong one? Why does she have one too?"

"Probably a fake."

Christy grabbed hers and brushed it off, disgusted. "Don't buy me something this basic again."

Michael smiled. "Okay. I'll get you something pricier next time."

At the door, Christy suddenly glanced back.

"You're pretty good at counting cash."

"I run a business. I'd better be."

She laughed. "Fair."

Michael never looked back.

I put the money away and hung my old Squishmallow beside the register again.

Then his text popped up.

[I'll come see you tomorrow.]

I left him on read, got up, and locked the shop.