Chapter 4: Something About Him
1077 Words
The sun returned the next morning, bathing the Delacour Estate in golden light. Ava Morales arrived early again, more out of habit than necessity. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Her assistant, Jules, was already unpacking vendor packets at the outdoor lounge when Ava approached with a clipboard in one hand and an iced matcha in the other.
“You look... radiant,” Jules said, eyebrows raised.
Ava paused mid-step. “Excuse me?”
Jules smirked. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been humming since Tuesday, and you never hum unless you’re excited or you booked a celebrity.”
“I’m working with competent people,” Ava said calmly. “It’s refreshing.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Competent people’ with brooding eyes and a jawline that could slice cake. Got it.”
Ava rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She scanned the checklist on her tablet.
“Is Ethan in yet?” she asked.
Jules stared at her knowingly.
Ava ignored it.
**Inside the estate’s conservatory
The venue’s glass-roofed conservatory had been transformed into a floral workshop. Tables lined with trays of blooms stretched across the space, and Ethan stood at the center, organizing floral runners.
He wore a dark green apron dusted with pollen and tiny leaf clippings, his sleeves pushed up as he gently trimmed stems.
“Good morning,” Ava said as she walked in, the scent of freesia and jasmine wrapping around her.
Ethan looked up, giving her a warm nod. “Hey. You’re early.”
“So are you.”
He smiled faintly. “Habit.”
They stood quietly for a second, the silence filled only by the gentle snip of scissors.
“I brought the updated seating chart,” Ava said, holding out a tablet. “Looks like the bride added four new guests to the head table. Can we adjust the floral runner to accommodate?”
Ethan took the tablet and glanced at the diagram.
“Easy fix. I’ll just redistribute the centerpiece and cut down the table length by a few inches on each side.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is, when you work with the right planner.”
Ava found herself smiling. “Flattery noted.”
“No, that was admiration.”
Before she could respond, a voice interrupted them.
“Oh good, you’re both here!” It was Miranda Price, the bride’s cousin and self-proclaimed “creative consultant,” breezing in like a storm in stilettos.
“I was hoping to go over some floral details. No offense, but I’m worried the arrangements are a bit... rustic?”
Ava tensed. “Rustic?”
Miranda gestured with an air of theatrical dismay. “Greenery everywhere, soft tones... it’s very country garden. The bride wants luxury.”
Ethan stood calmly. “She asked for romantic and elegant—nothing too formal. These flowers were chosen to reflect that.”
Miranda scoffed. “Right. But don’t you think ranunculus is a little... basic?”
Ava stepped forward before she could think twice. “Actually, Miranda, every flower Ethan selected was approved by the bride herself. And ranunculus symbolizes radiant charm—very on theme.”
Miranda blinked, thrown by the firmness in Ava’s voice.
Ethan glanced at Ava, a flicker of surprise—and something softer—passing between them.
Miranda cleared her throat. “Well, as long as the bride’s happy... I suppose that’s what matters.”
She flounced away, heels clicking against marble.
Ethan chuckled under his breath. “I didn’t know you’d jump to my defense like that.”
“She insulted your ranunculus,” Ava said simply. “That’s crossing a line.”
“I’m touched,” he said with a wink. “Truly.”
**
Later that day, most of the vendors took a break on the estate’s back terrace. Ava sat with Jules, sipping lemonade and scrolling through her inbox.
Ethan emerged with a tray of water bottles and snacks, placing them in the center of the group.
“That’s sweet of him,” Jules whispered, watching him return to his workbench. “Why do I feel like he’d bring you soup if you were sick?”
“Don’t start,” Ava muttered.
“Oh, come on. He’s thoughtful, talented, smells like cedarwood, and he actually listens when people talk. You can’t tell me you’re not a little into him.”
Ava hesitated.
“I’m... intrigued,” she admitted quietly. “He’s different. Not in a trying-hard kind of way. Just... calm. Grounded. And he sees things.”
Jules arched a brow. “Like... sees your soul kind of sees?”
Ava gave a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. “Don’t get poetic. But yeah. Kind of.”
They sat quietly for a moment before Jules added, “You deserve something good, Ava. Someone who sees you outside the clipboard.”
Ava didn’t reply—but her heart did a subtle ache-and-glow thing she hadn’t felt in years.
**Evening, courtyard fountain
That evening, as vendors wrapped up and golden-hour light bathed the estate’s courtyard, Ava wandered toward the fountain. She needed air, space—time to let her thoughts settle.
She found Ethan already there, sitting on the fountain’s edge, sketchbook open on his lap. He looked up, surprised but not unwelcoming.
“Didn’t think you’d be out here,” he said.
“Didn’t think you’d still be working,” she replied.
He closed the sketchbook. “Sometimes I draw when my brain’s too full.”
“What are you drawing?”
He hesitated, then offered the book.
Ava took it carefully and flipped it open. Inside was a pencil sketch of the arch—but not the literal one they’d built. This one was looser, more romantic. Flowers spilled like a waterfall. In the middle, two silhouettes stood beneath it, close but not touching.
She looked up. “Is this... us?”
Ethan looked away. “I didn’t mean for it to be.”
Ava smiled softly. “But it is.”
The silence between them felt different now. Not awkward—alive.
He stood, brushing his palms on his jeans.
“I should go. Long day tomorrow.”
Ava nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”
As he walked away, Ava called after him.
“Ethan?”
He turned.
“Don’t stop drawing.”
He smiled—gentle, warm, a little crooked.
“I won’t.”
And just like that, another thread tied them together—quiet, invisible, unbreakable.
- Writer
