A Florist's Guide to Love

9th | Wildflowers

At a bustling street corner, often hidden behind rushing vehicles, was a small yet colourful shop. It was to children what a supermarket was to housewives - a paradise in the form of an ice-cream parlour. Our car made a stop in front of it.

At this rate, if I had to use one word to describe Genevieve, it would be "ecstatic". She was so elated that not even seat belts could hold her down. As soon as I opened the car door for her, she bolted towards the shop. Luckily, Damian was quick enough to scoop her into his arms before she could cause mayhem.

"Good afternoon! May I take your orders?" The lady at the counter welcomed us. Her grayish hair had been tossed up into a messy bun, with a few strands sticking out in the air. Nonetheless, she was carrying a bright, tireless smile.

Ginny was the first to respond, "I want strawberry ice-cream!" Her legs were dangling from Damian's arms.

The lady eyed us. "What about you two?"

"Chocolate sundae," I said without much consideration.

"Make it two," Damian added.

"Sure!" The lady beamed. "You know, not many married couples are willing to go on a date with their child."

As if on cue, Damian and I turned to stare at each other. A shade of pink was blooming on his cheeks.

"Uh, no, we're not married." Damian shook his head frantically.

"Oh?" The lady gasped. "But when are you going to tie the knot? You do need to give your little girl a stable family!"

"We're not her parents." I grinned uneasily. "We're just babysitting her for a relative. In fact, she's his niece."

"Huh, no wonder..." She tilted her head. "The girl shares the same eye colour as your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." I murmured.

Even though the lady was at the far end of the shop preparing our ice-cream, she could still catch my words. "You're not a couple?"

I frowned. "No."

"Oh?" She turned to us. "Then what's with the hand holding?"

I hurriedly stole a glance at my hand. Undoubtedly, our fingers were interlaced with one another. Somehow, my hand had weaved its way into Damian's without alerting my conscience.

What sort of sorcery was this?

"Don't look so surprised." The lady let out a hearty laugh. "You two have been holding hands since you stepped out of the car. Why else would I have the notion of you two being a married pair?"

Damian and I sprung away from each other. His face was now flaming red, which was impossible to ignore. I was sure I was no different.

"Hehe...Uncle Danny is a tomato." Ginny poked Damian on the cheeks playfully.

I was glad she wasn't in my arms. Otherwise, it could've been worse.

"Don't worry, Uncle Danny. I think Ally likes tomatoes."

"You think?" Damian frowned at Ginny.

"Uh-huh." She giggled in response. "Because she's turning into a tomato, too."

I would never look at tomatoes the same way again. At least, it was a giant step forward from being regarded as a red-faced monkey.

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Since most of the seats at the parlour had been taken, we took refuge under the canopy of a weeping willow in a nearby park. In front of us was a playground, where several children were chasing each other around swing sets and slides.