Chapter 14 - The Door Behind the Greenhouse
Vance collapsed.
Marco lowered the gun.
The bullet had struck Vance’s shoulder.
Federal agents flooded the warehouse.
For once, Vincent did not finish the job himself.
He stepped back.
Let the law take Vance.
That mattered.
To Anthony.
To Maggie.
Most importantly, to Vincent.
Vance survived and was charged with kidnapping, conspiracy, obstruction, attempted murder, and a growing list of crimes supported by Anthony’s evidence.
Elias cooperated.
Daniel cooperated.
The old network collapsed.
Vincent voluntarily opened his companies to federal review.
It cost him money.
Contracts.
Several businesses.
He accepted all of it.
“I want whatever remains to be mine,” he told Maggie. “Actually mine.”
Elena eventually gave a full statement about her husband’s death.
Prosecutors considered the circumstances, the abuse, the threat against her sons, and the age of the case.
The process would take time.
But she was no longer running.
Anthony came home publicly.
Luca stopped being an enemy.
Marco spent two weeks in the hospital and complained about the flowers Maggie sent him.
“They’re ugly.”
“They're carnations.”
“Exactly.”
Three months later, Sullivan’s Flowers reopened.
Vincent insisted on carrying the first buckets inside.
Maggie made him tie the opening-day ribbon.
It was terrible.
Still.
“You've learned nothing.”
“I’ve developed a signature style.”
“You strangled it again.”
Customers filled the shop.
St. Catherine’s residents received the first arrangements free.
Life began becoming ordinary.
Beautifully ordinary.
Then one afternoon, Maggie discovered a door behind the new greenhouse.
It hadn't been part of the old building.
“Vincent?”
He appeared suspiciously quickly.
“What is that?”
“A door.”
“I’m a florist, Vincent. I recognize doors.”
He smiled.
“Open it.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Probably.”
She unlocked it.
Behind the greenhouse stood a small courtyard.
A table.
Two chairs.
Roses climbing a brick wall.
And one puppy.
Maggie froze.
A golden retriever puppy charged toward her.
“Oh my God.”
Vincent laughed.
“You said you wanted a dog?”
“You said you wanted a dog.”
“I’m practicing compromise.”
She picked up the puppy.
Its collar had a tag.
SUNDAY.
Maggie looked at Vincent.
“You named our dog Sunday?”
“I had thematic reasons.”
Her eyes filled.
Vincent approached.
“Remember what I told you at dinner?”
“Sunday breakfast.”
“A dog.”
“Someone waiting when you came home.”
He nodded.
“I have two out of three.”
Maggie stared at him.
“You have all three.”
“Not officially.”
He reached into his coat.
Maggie laughed.
“If that's another fake engagement ring, I’m throwing you into the hydrangeas.”
“No fake anything.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
This time there were no enemies.
No security alarms.
No threats.
No velvet box containing someone else’s message.
Just Vincent.
Maggie.
A badly behaved puppy.
And roses.
“Maggie Sullivan, the first time I walked into your shop, I had thirty-six roses I didn't want.”
She smiled through tears.
“You still had to pay for them.”
“I remember.”
“You complained.”
“I was emotionally distressed.”
“You were cheap.”
“I paid six hundred eighty-four dollars.”
“And seventy-two cents.”
He laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“You were the first person in years who looked at me and didn't see my name. You made me carry buckets. You made me eat lunch. You told me when I was wrong.”
“Frequently.”
“Constantly.”
She smiled.
Vincent took her hand.
“You gave me a life I thought men like me didn't get.”
Maggie whispered, “You chose that life.”
“Because you showed me it existed.”
He opened the box.
“Marry me. For real.”
Maggie looked at him.
At Sunday.
At the shop beyond the glass.
At the man who once believed fear was the only thing keeping people beside him.
“Yes.”
Vincent exhaled.
Maggie laughed.
“Did you think I’d say no?”
“You have a history of making negotiations difficult.”
She held out her hand.
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
Then Maggie noticed something beneath the ring.
A folded piece of paper.
Her smile vanished.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“There’s a note.”
His face drained.
“That's impossible.”
Maggie removed it.
Slowly unfolded it.
Vincent stood.
The paper contained an address.
Nothing else.
Maggie recognized the street.
Her childhood home.
She looked at Vincent.
“I didn't put that there.”
Sunday suddenly began barking.
Not toward the shop.
Toward the far wall of the courtyard.
Maggie followed the puppy.
Behind the climbing roses was another narrow door.
Old.
Not part of the renovation.
Vincent stared at it.
“That wasn't on the building plans.”
Maggie reached for the handle.
May you like
It was already unlocked from the inside.
Someone was waiting for them.
