Nina turned the shop sign to CLOSED while Mary stood beside a bucket of white flowers. Then she checked the door and took off her apron.
“I don't want to rush you this time,” she said.
Mary had expected to feel disloyal walking into the shop. Instead she felt relieved. Adam hadn't called to check where she was. She had made the choice, and now she could find out what it was worth.
“I told him I was coming,” she said.
“How did he take it?”
“Badly.”
Nina sat on the stool behind the counter. She didn't look pleased to have been proved right. She looked tired.
Mary told her what he had said about cancelling the meeting. She didn't repeat the whole argument. By the time she got to the wedding date, Nina had put both feet on the stool's lower rung.
“That's what I meant,” she said. “About it always becoming whether I wanted him.”
“I know. I heard it.”
“With me, it was one Thursday evening. I'd been here all day, and I wanted to go home without anyone else to feed or talk to. He said he'd bring food, as though I'd only been refusing because cooking was a nuisance.”
Mary looked at the apron folded on the counter.
“You said no.”
“Yes. Then he wanted to know why I hadn't missed him. I'd seen him the night before.”
It was such an ordinary evening to lose. Mary could picture getting home from work and having to prove affection before being allowed the quiet she had already chosen.
“Did he apologise?”
“Sometimes. And then he'd ask again in a different way. I began explaining everything before he'd even asked. Why I was tired. Why I couldn't reply. I didn't like who I was turning into.”
Mary rested a hand on the counter. She had done some of that herself, making an answer warm enough to be received. She had also seen him accept a plain refusal. Both memories remained, inconveniently.
“I'm not going to tell him everything you say,” she told Nina.
“Thank you.”
“That doesn't mean I won't tell him what I think.”
“I'd expect you to.”
There was a silence. Nina picked at a small strip of tape stuck to the counter, then said, “I just don't want him doing it again with a ring this time.”
Mary looked down at her hand. She hadn't taken the ring off to come here. She wasn't sure whether Nina had noticed or been trying not to.
“He asked me to marry him,” she said. “I asked him for coffee. There are parts of this that were mine.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Nina let go of the tape. “I think he likes getting someone to want him. Maybe the proposal is just a way to win.”
The words hurt more than Mary expected. They took the moment at his table and made her happiness look foolish.
“You don't know why he asked.”
“No.”
“You know what he did to you. You can tell me that. But you don't know what every good thing he's done with me means.”
Nina looked at her for a moment.
“You're right,” she said. “I don't.”
Mary hadn't expected the admission. She had been ready for a fight in which she could decide Nina was unreasonable and leave with more certainty than she'd come in with.
Instead, Nina stood and lifted a bucket away from the doorway.
“I'm angry with him,” Nina said, gripping the bucket handle. “That bit I shouldn't have said.”
Mary stepped back to let her pass. When Nina put the bucket down, Mary noticed the two wedding photographs still in her bag. She took them out and laid them on the counter.
“I don't think you should do my flowers.”
Nina breathed out. “I was going to say that.”
“It's not because you told me.”
“It's because I did.” She held up a hand before Mary objected. “Not like that. You need to be able to talk about your wedding without wondering what I'm thinking. And I need to do my work without it becoming another conversation about Adam.”
Mary nodded. It was a small loss, letting go of something she'd pictured, but it also felt cleaner. Nina wouldn't have to turn Mary's choices into arrangements and carry them to a wedding she had warned her about.
“I haven't paid you anything.”
“No. We can stop here.”
Nina gathered the photographs and put them away. Mary kept the card in her bag.
“Would you mind if I called you?”
“No. If you want to talk. I won't keep ringing to find out what you decided.”
“Thank you.”
At the door, Mary looked back. “I'm sorry I thought you were just jealous.”
Nina's face changed, not quite into a smile.
“I was upset. That's not the same as wanting him back.”
Mary nodded. She wouldn't ask Nina to make that distinction easier for her.
Outside, the shops were closing. She walked home without texting Adam from the pavement. He would have to let her finish the evening before it became a conversation with him.
At her flat, she put away her bag, made dinner and ate. Only then did she check her phone. There was a message asking if she was all right, and another saying they could talk when she was ready.
She was not ready tonight. She answered that she was home and would speak to him tomorrow.
Then she washed her plate. The ring was still on her finger. She could feel it against the sponge.