“What about the florist?” “Saoirse?” He offered a tepid shrug. “I can’t really talk to her. To anyone. That’s … usually the biggest problem.” “Hate to break it to you, but you’re doing just fine talking to me.” The butterflies in my own stomach fluttered as Callum met my eyes. I needed to take scissors to those wings. “That’s an anomaly.” “Why, thank you,”
