How To Build A Flower Shop

Chapter TWENTY SIX

Before walking to Gracious Gardens for the first time in a week, Bobbi Grace steps inside her father's room and to his wardrobe. On her toes, she reaches for the box and lays it on the floor. She looks at the dress another time, admiring it, thinking about the last time she did this she had a boyfriend. She had someone to go to her Prom with. Now she's going with her friend, with a high possibility of third wheeling with Jamelia and Bruce; they seem to hitting it off well.

Although she's excited to wear the stunning dress to Prom and looking forward to the night, she's can't help but feel more lonely because Nicholas isn't in the picture. She squeezes the dress to her chest, like she's holding her mother, and whispers she loves her. She takes a moment to herself, with her mom, and a sudden cold breeze brushes by. The windows in the room are closed, she doesn't understand, but she doesn't question it and doesn't stay any longer. Knows that if she gives herself this time to channel into her emotions she'll be sad. She doesn't want to be sad, feels it too much.

For that reason, she holds the dress closer to her chest before putting it back in its box and above the wardrobe. Throws on her coat and walks to Gracious Gardens, a place she misses being at.

**
Being back in Gracious Gardens is like she didn't have a week break and her life is continuing on from where she left off as Roberto is on her mind. And not in the way she used to. Today her mind is back on when she saw him leave the liquor store, and the memories of other occasions when alcohol lingered onto his breath crosses her mind.

She isn't sure whether to worry or not, but her gut is telling her to enquire him as her mind thinks all sorts of scenarios. The only way to stop overthinking about it is if she asks him about yesterday. Hopes for it to be reassurance that he is hanging out with his friend Damien, yet she still wouldn't be happy to hear those words from him. He could get himself into all kinds of trouble, and she had to force her mind not to go too far into that when thinking about it.

As they paint the storage room, she wonders how to bring it up in a way that wouldn't make him angry or upset with her for talking about it.

'Roberto?'

'Sí?' His voice is mellow and he must be in his own world because it doesn't seem to cross him that he spoke to her in Italian. He's working in the top corner, carefully painting, concentration glazing his features as to not get the cream paint on the ceiling.

A cold chill runs through her spine, so she rubs her right arm, still wearing her coat from the weather. She chooses her words carefully before she speaks, so it's quiet for a while.

He says something in Italian and she furrows her eyebrows. She asks him if he was speaking to her and his face lights up with recognition and humour. 'I didn't realise I was speaking in my language, sorry.' He chuckles. 'I asked you if there was something you wanted to say to me because you went quiet.' He takes a tired sigh, rubs his eyes and breathes through his nose when he looks at the corner where he's painting.

She smiles, thinking how adorable he looks when he's sleepy, how his bottom lip kind of pouts out. Her eyes off his lips, she becomes serious again and remembers her words. 'Um, it's funny because yesterday I thought I saw you walking out of the liquor store. Maybe you can tell me I... didn't?' She cringes at her approach, wishing she worded it differently. She didn't know what else to say and she doesn't know how the conversation is going to pan out.

'Okay, you didn't.' He's more alert now as his demeanour changes, straightening up.

She scratches her neck with her index finger, confused. She stopped painting a while ago and looks up at the gated window across them, wondering what to say to that or to say nothing at all. But she cares about him and wants to reassure herself not to worry.