Friday, 17th May
I woke up with a flutter in my chest, knowing today was my long-awaited date with Emily. I wanted everything to be just right. At lunchtime, I darted into Bloom & Ivy, the loveliest flower shop in the city. The place was brimming with rich ruby roses, daffodils, lilies as white as clouds, potted violets, and lavish bouquets wrapped in cellophane and ribbons of every shade. But I found myself dithering, shifting from foot to foot among the aisles.
I remembered that conversation from our first coffeeEmily had gone on about flowers, mentioning some she couldn’t stand, and others she could gaze at for hours. The truth is, I was so swept upby the excitement of a new connection, the fizzing prosecco, and of course, by Emily herself with her long chestnut hair and the gentle way she smiledthat I barely took in her words. I’m typically the talkative one, but that day, I just nodded and drank her in, her elegance, and the way her dimples flickered on her soft cheeks. Maybe that’s what it feels like to fall for someone.
Honestly, does it really matter which flowers she likes? It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? The evening was set to be lovely, and that should be enough.
Still, I couldn’t quite recall her favourite. The florist caught my hesitation. Just look at our gerberas! she pitched in with a smile. They’re out of season but we’ve got this special variety. Well, I was out of time and needed to pick something.
And then, typically, my phone rangMum, again. Shes been calling so much more lately.
Oliver, you still havent decided? Fancy popping home for the weekend? Its Friday, after all.
I can’t, Mum, loads going on, I replied, glancing at my watch.
Grandma keeps asking for you, watching the door for when you’ll turn up, she sighed.
I know, Mum. Really, Ive just got so much on at work andWell, sorry.
We didnt chat long. Mum wants me home in the little village with her and Grandma. I should go, I know. But Grandmas been frail for ages nowshes old. I can’t just up sticks and move back, I have my own things to sort out.
And honestly, those things are really about Emily. If tonight worked out, maybe tomorrow we’d take a little trip out of towntheres that lovely retreat centre Ive been wanting to show her. Mum would be happy to see me with someone special at last.
If only I could remember what blooms Emily loved! What a thing to forget. And anyway, must a bloke memorise every womans quirks? Does it truly matter?
The florist was running out of steam, eyes half-amused at my aimless wandering.
Hmm, I think Emily once muttered something about hating the thorns on roses, I thought. Best avoid them, then! At last, I picked a bouquet of plush pink and white gerberassurely that would do. I needed to head straight for work anyway, my lunch break was nearly up.
We agreed to meet at the new city fountain. Of course, I was latemy manager waylaid me with a last-minute meeting. Could mean a promotion, though, so at least theres that.
Texted Emily to let her know, then put my phone on silent for the meeting. Unsurprisingly, Mum rang again, but I couldnt very well answer.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I tore across the city, flowers in hand, trying to focus on the excitement instead of guilt about the delay.
Emily was nowhere to be seen when I got to the fountain. I paced the plaza, called herno answer. Sat on a bench, bouquet across my lap, and tried not to feel foolish. Maybe she was just running late too. Ten minutes later, I called again.
This time, she answered.
Emily, where are you? Im here, been waiting.
I know, Oliver. Im across the street, up on the second floor of the café. Ive been watching you, she said coolly.
Really? I craned my neck to spot her but couldnt. Why not come down, or
You were late, she interrupted.
Yes, Emily, and Im sorry, I really am. I called, but my boss kept me. You know how it is.
And the flowers? she added, her tone shifting.
What about them? I was genuinely lost.
You dont remember which flowers I like, do you?
But Emily, they didnt have
Roses? You dont remember I love roses? Theyre in every shop in England! Ive told you so many times about my roses, and you havent listened at all.
I can fix this, I promise. Ill come in and find you right now.
I walked into the café, heart hammering. She was in the corner, facing the window, arms folded. I approached quietly, left the bouquet on the table, feeling suddenly not at all sure of myself.
Words have always come easily for me, and now I tried every trick in the book, wanting to make her smile. Eventually, I succeededher lips curled, her eyes softened a little. We had coffee, awkwardly, then as we left the café, Emily still hadn’t looked at the flowers.
You forgot your bouquet! called the sweet young waitress, hurrying after us.
Ohkeep them, please, I said with a strained smile.
Thank you so much, she beamed. To be honest, she seemed genuinely chuffed. Emily looked annoyed as ever.
Ill buy you the biggest bunch of roses in the whole city, Emily! I said, still hopeful.
No, thank you, she replied stiffly. I’ve had enough flowers for today.
We descended the stone steps in silence, my spirits low. Behind me, my phone began to buzzMum, again. Emily didnt even glance my way.
Sorry, Mum. Is this a bad time?
Emily was out of earshot.
No, Mum, its perfect. Ill come home. Ill be there tomorrow, I answered, meaning it.
That evening, Emily and I parted with nothing left unsaid between us. I knew we wouldnt see one another again. Tired and hollow, I drove out beyond Oxfords old lanes, the fields unfurling like patchwork quilts in the half-light.
The countryside was bursting with colour and life, waves of breeze dancing over buttercups and bluebells. I stopped the car, wandered into the wildflowerstheir scents lifting my spirit just a little. Like a florist in his own garden, I gathered armfuls of my favourites, picking what felt right.
This time, I knewthese flowers would be welcomed. With Grandma and Mum, there was no guessing, no risk of forgetting the essentials.
Stepping into the little cottage, I split my wild bouquet in two. Mums face lit up as she kissed both cheeks, and my heart lightened. Grandma, frail as she was, sat up with help and took her bunch in trembling hands. She brushed her fingers over them, eyes misty and failing now, but her smile warmed every corner of the kitchen.
How long had it been since someone brought her flowers? She leaned in, breathing their fragranceher whole youth conjured in that moment. The scents must have called forth old memories; I could almost see her spirit returning to those bright summer days.
Life rises again, I thought. My life, too, is still opening.
I settled beside her, resting my head on her knee as she patted my hair, careful not to crush her precious flowers. And as I lay there, it struck meIll find my girl one day, someone as full of love as these two women who mean the world to me. Someone who will love as my parents did, as Grandpa loved Grandmafor that, Ill know what matters, and I wont let it slip by.
Grandma clung to her bouquet, reluctant to hand it over to Mum for the vase.
Hold on Fetch some watercold, straight from the tap, and a broad vase Mind you take care!
Grandson brought flowersjust wildflowers, the kind you find in every hedgerow. But these? These were the best. Because Id chosen them, for her.
