The Promotion

Chapter Twenty-Six

"These are beautiful... or what about these?" Sarah asked, burying her face into a bouquet of pale blush roses, her voice muffled by petals and lace wrapping.

Her words barely reached me.

They floated somewhere behind my thoughts, distant and indistinct, like background noise in another room. I stood surrounded by colour — creams, ivories, soft pinks and deep greens — yet felt nothing stir inside me. Days were slipping by too quickly, each one ticking closer to a wedding I should have been obsessing over.

Instead, I felt... numb.

Calum and I had finally booked the venue — a small countryside manor with sprawling gardens — but that was it. No dress. No flowers. No décor. Nothing. The checklist that should have been giving me mild panic barely registered.

When Sarah found out, she'd practically barked at me down the phone.

You're getting married in weeks, Louisa — weeks!

And now here I was, standing in a vintage flower shop on the high street, surrounded by blooms that made my nose itch and my chest feel tight. The scent was overwhelming — sweet, cloying, too much — and I sniffled for what felt like the hundredth time, rubbing at my nose.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice sharpened. "Earth calling Louisa."

Before I could react, she pinched my arm.

"Ow!" I yelped. "You cow! What was that for?"

"We've been here thirty minutes," she hissed. "You haven't looked at a single bouquet. Not one. Snap out of it and choose."

"I don't know," I muttered, shrugging her off. "Just pick any."

Her eyes widened in disbelief. "This is your damn wedding."

The shop owner hovered awkwardly near the counter, pretending to rearrange ribbons while clearly listening in. Sarah flashed her an apologetic smile, mouthing sorry yet again.

I pulled my phone out instead, lifting it to photograph a few arrangements.

"What are you doing now?" Sarah frowned.

"What does it look like?" I replied dryly. "I'm taking pictures to show Calum."

"We're picking the bouquet you will hold," she insisted. "This is your choice."

"And?" I shrugged. "I want his opinion."

Sarah rolled her eyes but let it go. When I finished snapping photos, I waved toward the door.

"Can we go? I need air."

Outside, I inhaled deeply. The open street felt like relief, the heavy perfume of flowers replaced by exhaust, cold air, and freedom.

"Honestly," Sarah said, crossing her arms. "You're acting like this isn't even your wedding."

"I'm agreeing to everything," I groaned. "Isn't that enough?"

Her expression softened. She placed a hand on my arm.

"You are happy, right?"

"Of course I am," I laughed too quickly. "Why would you ask that?"

"You don't seem excited," she said gently. "If it were me, I'd be losing sleep over this."

I paused.

Was something wrong with me? Shouldn't I be panicking, planning, dreaming? Instead, I felt... detached.

I shook the thought away. "Where to next?"

She checked her phone. "Decorations shop. That way."

We linked arms and headed down the high street.