Her Reason to Stay by Anna Adams Page A

store now. “It’s too strong,” he said. “We can’t pretend nothing’s happening between us.”
    “Patrick, I’m working,” she said, willing him to leave, yet wanting him to stay.
    He took her wrist and pulled her toward the door. “I know it’s the wrong time,” he said almost against her temple.
    “You don’t know things about me.”
    “Like what? You can’t imagine what I do know about people.”
    “Not like me.”
    “What are you trying to—” And then he stopped. “I forgot something.”
    “What?” Her heart was banging like a cannon even though she prided herself on the control that had gotten her through rehab and AA without a misstep so far.
    “I need to go to the greenhouse.”
    On an exhale, Daphne laughed, part shock, part amusement, a hundred percent awareness that Patrick was a mystery to her.
    “I know,” he said, “but you might as well realize I’m tangled up in family. Miriam developed a rose for my mother, and I give her one for Mother’s Day every year.”
    “Okay. I’ll get Miriam.”
    “No, thanks.” He tugged at his tie and his tailor-made collar. “I can find her, but you and I are going to talk.”
    He disappeared through the doorway to the back, and Daphne sagged against the counter. Miriam’s voice lifted as she greeted Patrick with gladness. His rumbled in return.
    Like a high-school wallflower, Daphne leaned into the hall to get a look at them. Their silhouettes moved toward the greenhouse.
    Daphne rubbed her forearms for comfort. She couldn’t stand still. She plastered a smile on her face and threw herself into selling flowers and explaining she wasn’t Raina.
    The store emptied out again while Patrick was with Miriam. Their voices preceded them, coming back.
    “I appreciate it,” Patrick said.
    The clock ticked over the door. Daphne still had deliveries to make. She should leave now, but she couldn’t make herself use that door before Patrick did.
    How long since she’d felt anything except horror at her bad judgment and fear that she’d drink again? She should be thinking of Raina, worrying about the conversation they had to get through tonight.
    Family mattered. A man with priorities of his own did not…could not…matter to her.
    “I owe your mother everything,” Miriam was saying. “She started me in business, and she showed me what to do with the roses. I enjoyed the time she spent with me here.”
    “It’s a shame her greenhouse is sitting neglected, but you know Mom. She bounces from one interest to the next. Interior design is her newest thing. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t drop by with Will in tow to coordinate your color palette.”
    Miriam laughed. “I’ll bolt the door if she shows up.”
    “What do I owe you?”
    “The Gloria is on the house.”
    “Thanks, but I want to pay,” he said. “It’s my gift for her.”
    “You never change, Patrick.” She rested her fist against his shoulder. “Daphne will check you out.”
    Patrick stopped, smiling as he set a long-stemmed rose on the counter. A mauve ribbon matched the bud bursting to bloom.
    “Need my card again?” he asked.
    “Uh-uh. Thanks.” Daphne’s fingers refused to obey again. She fumbled with the buttons on the cash register and had to start over.
    Daphne finished his transaction and wrapped his rose in pale pink tissue, marked with Miriam’s logo, and then she found a box, in which she nestled the rose in more tissue.
    Patrick waited by the counter, making her nervous. “Did you manage to talk to Raina?” he asked.
    “I’m seeing her after work tonight.” She could just imagine his reaction to the stories she had to tell her sister.
    “Good. She needs you.”
    “That was the last thing I expected you to say. Have you talked to her?”
    “I know her.” He balanced the box in one hand and went toward the door. Daphne followed him. He pushed against the weight of the door with his free hand. “Maybe you need each other.”
    “Wait.” She grabbed