Chapter Text
“Eve, please, I love you, I really do but if I hear one more fucking word about flowers, I swear I’m gonna slap you,” Elena says, her face flushed and slightly angry. Her voice is dangerous, but that makes it even funnier for Eve. She tries to hide her grin as good as she can, but it is really hard to keep a serious face when Elena looks at her like this. “I’m not even kidding. Stop laughing,” she groans. “I can’t even put into words how much I do not care what kind of flowers there’ll be. There could be fucking daisies dumped on the floor for all I care. So please stop being a pain in my ass asking me if I prefer roses over lilies.”
“Roses are a bit cliché, don’t you think? And lilies are more for funerals,” Eve answers as she tries to keep the smirk at bay.
“Eve, I swear to god if I-,” she starts as she takes two steps into Eve’s direction, standing dangerously close now when her phone rings, interrupting her. “Lucky you,” she mutters under her breath as she turns away, accepting the incoming call.
Eve stands there, observing the other woman. She can see how Elena’s expression shifts from annoyance to confusion, then to anger and finally to rage. The woman is fuming. Elena has always been this calm person, who can’t be fazed by anything, but ever since Kenny and she have announced their engagement and then started their wedding planning, she’s turned into this movie-like soon-to-be-wife they always laughed about when drunkenly watching those ridiculous hallmark romcom-movies. And because of that, because Elena always judged and made fun of those women, claiming she would never be like them, Eve can’t help but find her behavior even funnier. She watches as Elena ends the call aggressively and stomps back towards Eve.
“Everything okay?” She asks innocently in a high-pitched voice.
Elena shoots daggers at her before whispering quietly, “the band cancelled.”
“What was that?” Eve asks, not quite sure if she heard correctly.
“I said, the fucking band just cancelled, bitch.”
“No need to get personal,” she smirks, “why did they cancel?”
“I didn’t catch that part when I called them assholes and hung up,” she mumbles.
Eve can’t help but laugh out loud. “Didn’t you say they suck, anyway? “
“Yeah, but Carolyn likes them.”
Eve giggles. Not even five months ago, Elena idolized Carolyn, and now it feels like you can’t even say that name out loud without her tensing up. Eve always jokes that it’s like her future mother-in-law turned out to be fucking Lord Voldemort.
“Well, you should thank them, now you can hire that band you originally wanted – the one that doesn’t have an average age of 65 and only plays wind instruments.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Elena mumbles.
“Sorry, can you repeat that? I didn’t quite catch it,” Eve says, a small smirk creeps up her face.
“Shut up,” Elena sighs. “Could you please just pick those flowers on your own? I trust your taste – or, well, actually I don’t - but I mean it when I say I don’t really care anyway. You’re my bridesmaid, so please just… help me. Kenny chose a flower shop. You can ask him for the address.”
“Okay,” she says, placing a soft kiss on Elena’s cheek. “Everything is going to be fine. It’s gonna be a beautiful wedding with the most romantic selection of flowers, arranged in such perfection that it’ll simply leave you speechless.”
Now it’s Elena who laughs out loud. “Sure, Romeo.”
~~~
‘SORRY BABY X’ says the wooden sign in curvy letters right above the small flower shop Kenny sent her to. What kind of name is that? Eve pulls the door open and steps inside. A little bell above the door rings, announcing her presence.
She looks around. There are shelves upon shelves decorated with various kinds of flowers in all shapes and colors. Half of them Eve has never seen before, but that’s no surprise as her knowledge doesn’t extend beyond roses and those they have in the Netherlands. Tulips, right? She isn’t even sure.
Eve still doesn’t quite understand why Elena chose her for this task. Why can’t she be the person who picks out the cake or, even better, does the wine tasting? That she could do - no problem at all. But no, she has to pick flowers. Sure, she can say which ones she likes, but aren’t all flowers pretty? Looking around, there isn’t a single one she would consider ugly, so how is she supposed to choose an entire arrangement that matches each other?
She turns her head and looks straight ahead. There is a small wooden desk plastered with single flowers, scissors and all types of wrapping paper und ribbon. Right next to it stands a small shelf packed with beautiful gift baskets of all sizes that seemed to be handmade.
“Hello?” She asks uncertainly into the empty space.
There are some rumbling noises coming from a room behind the desk. “One moment, I’ll be right with you,” a voice calls out. A few seconds later, a young blonde woman wearing a black top that’s neatly tucked into her light blue mom jeans steps behind the desk, smiling brightly at Eve as she tries to discreetly chew on something before swallowing it slowly. She holds a simple brown work apron in her hand, which she quickly throws over her head and ties behind her back.
“Sorry, I just took a bite. I haven’t eaten yet.”
Eve frowns. “It’s 1 p.m.”
“I know, I know. I was kind of in a hurry this morning, so I just forgot,” she smiles, “how can I help you?”
“I need flowers,” Eve answers awkwardly, unsure of what to say.
“Well, you’re at the right place.” The blonde replies with a grin.
“Sorry, I don’t know how this works,” she says a little embarrassed, “my best friend is getting married and I’m her bridesmaid, who’s doing a really lousy job as you can probably already tell. But she chose me nonetheless to pick the flowers for her.”
“I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” she blonde says softly, shooting her a genuine smile. Eve looks up into her eyes and it’s just then that she notices how gorgeous they are - hazel with amber sprinkles sparkling in the soft light. “Did she tell you what flowers she likes?”
Eve shakes herself out of her thoughts. She could easily get lost in those eyes. “No, she told me she would slap me if I said one more word about fucking flowers,” Eve smirks.
“Ouch,” she blonde says, placing a hand over her chest in mock hurt.
“Her words not mine. I love flowers,” Eve rushes to clarify, unsure why she feels the need to say it.
“What are your favorites?” The blonde asks softly, obviously genuinely interested in her answer.
“Sorry?” Eve answers, a little perplexed.
“Your favorite flowers.”
Well fuck. She can’t say roses; that’s lame, but she can’t think of anything else either. It’s like back at school when the teacher called her to the blackboard and her mind just went completely blank. “Oh, ehm, well, I like them all,” she slightly stammers, instantly hoping for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
Villanelle grins, already catching up on her lie.
“C’mon give me your top three,” the blonde pushes, a smirk plastered on her face now.
Oh great, now she has to name three instead of just one.
“Well roses,” she starts. Screw it, better than none.
“Classic,” the woman nods, feigning agreement.
Two more to go. She thinks back to her conversation with Elena when it suddenly hits her. “Then lilies,” she says confidently, “and daisies.”
“Daisies? That’s extraordinary.”
“Well, I’m not your ordinary customer.”
“No, you’re definitely not,” the blonde laughs, more talking to herself. She clears her throat. “Well, it’s difficult to do an arrangement with daisies, so I would recommend choosing something else. I’m personally not a fan of roses either, bu-,”
“You must hate Valentine’s Day then,” Eve interrupts suddenly.
“You have no idea,” the woman giggles.
“Sorry, I interrupted you.”
The blonde smiles softly. “I was going to say that we can still go with roses.”
“No, that’s fine. I’m not a fan either,” she says absentmindedly before registering her words. Her eyes go wide, and she feels her face heating up.
“I thought they were in your top three,” the woman says with a knowing smirk on her face.
“Yeah, right, they are. I meant I’m not a fan of roses at weddings,” Eve stammers quietly.
“Uh-huh,” she grins, “Well, that leaves us with lilies, but they are considered typical-”
“Funeral flowers,” Eve interrupts proudly, looking smugly at the blonde. Her mother never liked lilies because they reminded her of funerals, and somehow this got stuck in Eve’s head.
“Exactly,” the blonde laughs, looking less impressed than Eve had hoped for, “so maybe that’s not the optimal choice either. Perhaps I could show you some other options? I’m sure you know them all by heart, but maybe there are some you haven’t considered yet,” she says teasingly, winking at Eve.
“Right, maybe that would be best,” Eve replies, scratching the back of her neck.
“I’m Villanelle, by the way,” the other woman says softly, holding out her hand for Eve to shake.
“Eve,” she answers before taking the offered hand. Her skin is soft and warm, leading Eve to shake her hand a little longer than probably appropriate. She lets go of the blonde’s - Villanelle’s – hand before tying her hair into a messy bun. “Shall we?”
Villanelle doesn’t answer immediately, and when Eve tries to meet her eyes, they’re already fixated on her hands in her hair. “Are you okay?”
Villanelle shifts her gaze back down to Eve’s eyes, smiling softly again. “Yeah, sorry, I’m good. Let’s do this.”
~~~
“What do you think about dahlias?” Villanelle asks, standing in front of yet another shelf. Eve’s eyes scan the little handwritten labels under the different buckets, trying to discreetly make out the one labeled ‘Dahlias’. They both know Eve has absolutely no idea which ones Villanelle is talking about, just like she had no idea about any of the flowers the blonde had picked out before, but they both decide to just play along. Villanelle grins as she points her index finger to the bucket apparently filled with dahlias.
“They’re pretty.”
“That’s what you said about the last five as well,” the blonde laughs.
“Well, they are all pretty,” Eve shrugs.
“They sure are. But we have to narrow down the selection.”
Eve groans as she throws her head back in exasperation when a thought hits her. “How about you choose them? I’m giving total control to you. Total creative freedom.”
“Are you sure that’s fine with your friend?”
“Well, I would ask her, but I don’t want to be slapped. So please, do your magic.”
“You’re sure?”
“Totally. You wanna know a secret?” Eve whispers, leaning a little closer to the blonde.
“Shoot,” Villanelle replies, letting out a little laugh that sounds so beautiful that Eve has trouble concentrating on her next words. She takes in a breath before leaning even closer to the blonde’s ear. She playfully looks behind her to make sure no one else is around before whispering, “I know next to nothing about flowers. I do think they’re all pretty, but I never thought of them as individuals. And I certainly don’t have a favorite, let alone a top three.”
Villanelle gasps in feigned shock. “So, you lied about everything? I totally believed daisies were your favorites,” she responds, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Eve says, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly.
“Well, I accept your apology. But then - no offense -,” she says, raising her hands playfully in the air, “why let you choose?”
“She told me, and I quote, ‘I can’t even put into words how much I do not care what fucking kind of flowers there’ll be’ or something like that. So, no pressure; she already told me she thinks I’m gonna mess up, so everything you do will exceed her expectations.”
“So, let me get that straight: I’ll do the work, and you’ll get all the credit?”
“Exactly.”
They stare at each other, both squinting. Eve is the first to laugh. “Okay, fine. Credit is all yours. She wouldn’t believe I did the work on my own anyway if it turns out pretty.”
“Oh, it’s gonna be more than pretty. You can tell her she doesn’t have to worry about a thing anymore because I’m fucking amazing at my job.”
“You’re quite sure of yourself.”
“I have enough reviews that tell you just how talented I am.”
Eve laughs heartily at that. Villanelle’s eyes crinkle, and she smiles widely in return.
“Do you want some coffee? I have some folders with the arrangements I’ve done so far, you could have look.”
“Sure, sounds good.”
~~~
They spend the next thirty minutes in what Villanelle affectionately calls her ‘lunchroom-slash-storage-room-slash-office’, looking through two different folders filled with stunning photographs of various wedding arrangements, each one prettier than the last.
Eve can’t quite comprehend just how talented the woman is, even if she doesn’t want to admit it yet.
No matter which wedding photos they look at and how different they are, they all have one thing in common: Villanelle’s work sticks out every time.
Every single flower seems to be handpicked; nothing’s left to chance. Each arrangement ensures that no flower is overshadowed, all receiving exactly the amount of attention they deserve and need.
The way Villanelle speaks about them, how she remembers every job she has ever had, fills Eve’s heart with warmth. She can feel the love and devotion spreading from every single pore of Villanelle’s body.
Her eyes beam and sparkle as she speaks, and Eve can’t take her eyes off the woman next to her. Her gaze trails along the sharp features of her face until it settles on the blonde’s plump lips, lingering there and absorbing every word that leaves them.
They are thrown out of their little bubble when the bell above the shop door rings again.
“Excuse me for a second,” the blonde says softly as she stands up and leaves the room to attend her next customer.
Eve stands up as well, pacing through the room. It’s silly, but she feels special being allowed to stay alone in Villanelle’s ‘private retreat’. The blonde probably invites most of her clients back here, discussing different ideas over a cup of coffee to create a personal atmosphere, but Eve feels special nonetheless. Her eyes roam the framed pictures decorating the walls. Most of them show Villanelle with friends or family, and she looks so happy in all of them that it makes Eve smile brightly as well. Her laugh is contagious.
“Snooping around already,” Villanelle asks playfully, a few steps behind her.
Eve jumps a little, spinning on her heel to face the other woman.
“You always try to kill your well-paying customers?”
Villanelle grins as she walks over, standing next to Eve, their shoulders almost touching. She faces the wall as well. Eve lets her sight wander until one specific photo catches her attention. It shows a slightly younger Villanelle standing in front of the shop, smiling proudly into the camera. Cartons are spilled all over the pathway, and a keychain dangles from the blonde’s long fingers. Right behind her, leaning against the wall next to the door, is the wooden sign that now adorns the entrance.
“Why the name?” Eve asks, still deep in thought.
“Why do you think people buy flowers the most?” Villanelle asks instead, turning her head to look at Eve.
“I don’t know. First dates maybe, or as birthday presents?”
“Nope, unfortunately not. It’s mostly people needing to apologize for something. They come here, buy a bouquet, and think this will make up for cheating on their partners,” she says, staring into the distance, her face contorted with something Eve can’t put a name to yet. She soon shakes herself out of it. The wrinkles on her forehead smooth out again and her frown disappears before she continues, “or forgetting birthdays or hurting people in other ways.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“It is what it is. But that’s why I thought the name would fit quite well. Don’t worry, though. I have plenty of customers who come here without ulterior motive, just genuinely wanting to make somebody happy. The man from before, for example, told me he was just on his way home when he saw the sunflowers in the shop window and had to think about his boyfriend of seven years, who brought him sunflowers for their first date.”
“That’s beautiful,” Eve whispers. “To witness so much love every day.”
“It really is. That’s why I love my job so much,” Villanelle says just as quietly before squeezing Eve’s arm once and walking back to the desk in the middle of the room. She picks up what seems to be a business card and hands it to Eve who has slowly walked over to her.
“That’s the shop’s number. If you or Elena have any questions or ideas, don’t hesitate to call or text me. I do have a rough idea of what you imagine and like, and I know you said total creative freedom, but if you want something specific, just call me,” she says, winking at Eve.
Eve blushes a little as she turns the card around to look at the number. “Thanks.”
“Can I have your number as well, or Elena’s?” the blonde asks, looking up at Eve when she doesn’t answer immediately.
“Sure,” Eve hurries to respond before dictating her own number to Villanelle. “That’s my number. It’s probably better for your and my health if you don’t call Elena.” Eve watches closely as Villanelle saves her number in what looks more like her personal phone, slightly blushing at the thought. Does she save her under just ‘Eve’? She sure hopes-
A laugh interrupts her thoughts. “Right, let’s not risk getting slapped. What’s your last name?”
So much for her theory. “Polastri,” she answers a little disappointed.
Saying the name out loud leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. Months has passed since her divorce from Niko, yet she still hasn’t changed her last name. Eve’s not entirely sure why. She likes to think it’s due to a lack of time, but deep down she knows that’s not true. No, it’s something else. Perhaps because changing her name would make it final - a closed chapter. And she wants that, but letting go of fifteen years together isn’t easy. Her current last name is the only thing that still connects her to Niko.
“Alright, Eve Polastri,” Villanelle starts, and Eve scrunches her nose at the sound of her name coming from Villanelle’s lips, a reaction that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde. “I’ll call you when I have a final concept, and then we can make another appointment to discuss the next steps.”
“Sounds goo-,” she’s interrupted when her phone starts ringing in her bag. “Sorry,” she says as she fishes for her phone. She looks down at her display before grinning. “It’s Elena. One second, I’ll be right back.”
Eve reaches for the door before turning back to Villanelle, smiling apologetic at her. She then steps out of the room and then out of the shop altogether before accepting the call.
“Eve? I need your help,” a shrill voice shouts right into her ear.
“Well, hello to you too.”
Elena ignores her. “She wants us to marry in a fucking barn.”
“What?”
“Carolyn wants us to marry in their barn. And Kenny thinks it’s a beautiful idea. Eve, I don’t wanna marry in a fucking barn surrounded by bales of straw,” she whines.
“But what about the cute cottage you two picked?” Eve asks confused.
“Well, Carolyn said she would cover the deposit we would lose. She told Kenny she would love for her only son to marry on the family estate. And Kenny believes this bullshit. We both know her; she just doesn’t want to leave work for three days to drive to Cornwall, not because she cares the slightest about that damn wedding.”
“Relax, I’ll talk to Kenny. I was just about to leave the florist, and I’ll call him right after. She’s amazing, by the way. I told her she has total creative freedom, so it’s gonna be great.”
A long silence follows. “Wait a second. You’re joking, right? I gave you one simple task and you’ve handed it off to someone else?”
“You know damn well that I know absolutely nothing about flowers. So, be happy I hired an expert without additional charge,” Eve argues.
“I want to speak to her.”
“Are you serious? You want to scare her off already?”
“Eve, just hand her the goddamn phone,” Elena groans.
“Fine.” Eve rolls her eyes as she steps into the shop again where Villanelle is already waiting for her.
“She wants to talk to you,” she says as she shoots Villanelle an apologetic look and passes her the phone.
Villanelle just smiles warmly at her. “Hello, this is Villanelle.”
Eve just catches random words Elena is saying, at lot of them being ‘Eve’ and ‘idiot’ or other heartwarming insults. Eve rolls her eyes repeatedly while Villanelle has a hard time concealing her giggles. Eve turns around, looking around the shop again, blocking out the conversation the two of them are having over her phone. That’s until she hears Villanelle speaking for more than just one-word answers.
“I’d love to come! Thank you for the invitation,” Villanelle says genuinely, smiling to herself.
She hears Elena mumbling something in return which seems to be quite funny as the blonde grins and looks over to Eve, “I’ll pass it on. It was nice talking to you, Elena. See you soon.” And then she hangs up.
“Elena says you better talk to Kenny about the woman who must not be named or else you can consider yourself uninvited.”
“Jesus, she’s out of control,” Eve murmurs.
“And she invited me to her bachelorette party,” Villanelle says, grinning from ear to ear.
“She did what now?” Eve asks confused.
Villanelle raises her eyebrow playfully. “You don’t want me there?”
“No! It’s not that,” she rushes to clarify, “I’m just surprised. I mean she doesn’t even know you.”
“What can I say? I very likeable, Eve,” she responds smugly, shrugging her shoulders.
“Yeah, I already figured that much,” Eve mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers.
Villanelle shoots her a smile. “She told me to ask you for details, provided – and I quote – her idiot of a best friend finally picks a club which shouldn’t be that hard.”
Eve groans. “I’m on it. I’ll text you when I know more, but it’s this Saturday.”
“Yeah, she told me that much. Let me give you my private number. The one on the card is for the phone at the shop.”
“Yeah, right, sure,” Eve replies, trying to sound casual but clearly failing, judging by the amused look on Villanelle’s face.