The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(81)

The music changes, signaling the bridal party is going to begin coming out.

I hold my breath, waiting for Salem to appear. When she finally does, she takes my breath away, and it makes me glad we decided to have a ceremony one day, because fuck I want to see her walk down the aisle to me.

Her eyes search the aisles, stopping when they land on me. A smile takes over her face and she winks.

I don’t want to take my eyes off her.

I had resolved myself to a lonely fate, one where I lived out my days alone, and I didn’t get the girl. It’s what I thought I deserved. I was the villain of my own story in my eyes. When Forrest died, I thought I didn’t deserve to live either, and I’m sure if it wasn’t for my brother and therapist I probably wouldn’t be alive today.

Salem told me once, that she wanted to have the confidence of wildflowers. She wanted to grow and thrive no matter what life tossed her way. And she’s done just that.

But if she had the confidence of wildflowers, then I was the resurrection of wildflowers. My soul withered with the death of my son. I was lost and that version of myself was gone forever. But I came back—I came back and now I’ll grow and thrive alongside her.

When Lauren comes out, on the arm of her father, I get choked up because I realize one day I’ll be walking Seda down the aisle to whomever she chooses to give her heart to. And while I won’t get to experience the same for Forrest, I know he’s always with me, because the love in my heart for my son has never dwindled. If anything, it has grown stronger.

As I watch Lauren start down the aisle, I swear I can feel Forrest’s small hand in mine. Like he’s reminding that my beliefs aren’t crazy, that he’s right here.

Our loved ones never really leave us—not as long as we remember. Even when it hurts, even when the pain is unbearable, we have to remember.





CHAPTER 50





SALEM





The last of summer comes to an end, the final days of warm weather bleeding into the crisp cold weather of October. Caleb moves into my mom’s house, spending most weekends there and his weekdays in Boston. It’s an adjustment at first, having him right next door, but it turns out to be the right thing all the way around for us and for Seda.

The door to my mom’s shop opens—my shop now, I remind myself. I set down the paint roller, smiling when Thayer walks in with our daughter. She sets her rainbow backpack down and runs over to me, giving me a hug.

“I got an A on my spelling test, Mommy. Mrs. Lowell says she thinks I should be in the spelling bee.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” I tap her nose. “Do you have homework?”

She pouts, muttering, “Yes.”

“Go get started on it while your dad and I paint. If you need help just yell for us.”

“Fine.” She grabs her backpack, running into the back where a commercial kitchen is almost finished being put in. It feels far too fancy for me, and I question whether I’ll even be able to make a go of all this, but the only true failure is in not trying.

“Here, I got you something.”

I narrow my eyes curiously on my husband. “And what is it?”

From behind his back, he holds out a Diet Coke. “For you.”

I put a hand to my chest, then take the soda. “My hero.” I stand on my tiptoes, kissing his scruffy cheek.

“I like this color.” Thayer picks up another roller, dipping it in the pan.

“You do?” I’m a tad surprised he likes the burnt orange color. That’s only the base color, and then I’m having someone come in to paint a mural of retro style flowers. It seems like a lot of bakeries go the pastel route, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I wanted to do something different. A little quirky. Something that was … me.

“I do. With the flowers it’s going to look great.”

I take a sip of the Diet Coke, looking around at the transformed space. Jen has already been by to congratulate me. It’ll be a while before we open, but what matters is that I’m doing this, and I think my mom would be proud of me. I think she’d be happy knowing that this space will continue to exist with a new life. I even kept some of the vintage pieces for wall décor and there’s a green colored couch from the 70s that will sit beneath the big window in the front.

Thayer and I work together, mostly in silence since we can get more done that way, and manage to finish the second coat on one whole wall. It’s progress, so I’m not going to complain.

“Are you done with your homework?” I ask Seda, poking my head in the back.

“Yeah. Mostly.”

“What does mostly mean?”

“I need some help with a few questions when we get home. You were busy so I didn’t want to ask.”

“Sweetie, I told you if you needed help, we would.”

“I know.” She shoulders her backpack. “But I wanted you to paint so you can open this place and I can have cupcakes anytime I want.”

I sigh in amusement. “Sound logic.”

“You have paint on your nose,” she tells me, brushing by me into the main shop space.

That’s my kid, always keeping me humble.

Thayer’s truck is parked outside, and I make sure Seda’s secure in her seat, then get in myself.