CHAPTER 19
AS SOON AS Rhys walked into the florist, he began sneezing. Damn lilies. He scanned the shop until he saw the culprits, a dozen white blooms in a metal vase complete with their stamens of doom. He’d been allergic to lily pollen since he was a kid, which was a shame because they’d been his mum’s favourite flower.
“À vos souhaits.”
“Huh? I mean, pardon.”
The girl behind the counter giggled. Adele, Chanté’s friend, according to her name tag.
“It is what we say when you sneeze.”
“Ah. Right.” Thank goodness she spoke English. “I’d like to order a bunch of flowers.”
“We have plenty of those. What kind?”
“A dozen white roses. And could you put some of those palm fronds with them?”
“Palm fronds? With roses?”
Her expression said they definitely didn’t go together, but Rhys nodd
