Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Well, now we both have projects to work on,” she said when we finally broke apart and I slid the diamond on her finger, feeling the weight of what I was offering her.
My future.
Forever.
I couldn’t imagine either without her.
“You build our home,” she said, pressing another quick kiss to my lips. “And I will plan the wedding.”
Kick - 2 years
“You’re sure it’s straight?” I asked Saff who was sitting on the counter in the shop.
Not the meat shop.
My shop.
A plant shop.
Right next to the meat shop, sure, since Rico was overprotective and wanted me close to him and his soldiers, but my venture.
“Stop touching it,” Saff demanded, shaking her head at me as my hands dropped away from the sign on the wall.
It was a small shop.
Heavily featuring plants that I’d actually propagated from my own collection at home.
But I had it set up in a way that I hadn’t seen in any of the other plant shops I’d visited in the boroughs. I had the plants separated by how easy or finicky they were.
There was the ‘You Can’t Kill These’ section featuring things like pothos, heart leaf philodendrons, snake, and ZZ plants and a ‘Will Probably Break Your Heart’ section featuring the much more finicky ferns, alocasias, fiddles, and strings of pearls.
I had planters made by local artisans, a ‘soil bar’ where you could stock up on my special chunky house blend, fertilizers, and some merchandise.
“I know,” I said at her head shake when I touched the sign again. “I’m just nervous,” I admitted. “I really want this to work.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Saff asked. “They used to say that dogs are the new children, but now, plants are the new dogs. Everyone wants to live in a jungle these days. It’s gonna be a huge hit.”
It wasn’t like I was filling a void. There were a bunch of plant shops in Brooklyn. But there weren’t any in this particular neighborhood. And I really put a lot of thought into the look of the place, wanting to appeal to that younger generation that was as plant-obsessed as I had become once I got my first gateway plant.
“Okay. Open up already,” she demanded as she hopped off of the counter.
It was half an hour early, but I was too excited to care as I unlocked the door and flipped the sign.
Some part of me was worried sick that I would just stand there all day, heart breaking, with no one walking in.
But within fifteen minutes of flipping the sign, two young women passing with their coffees came rushing in, all excited to see I had one of their ‘dream’ plants for sale.
I’d been busting my butt promoting the plant shop on socials and through flyers, including ones I had up at the meat shop.
By mid-day, I felt safe saying that Lombardi Living Roots was already a success.
No, I was never going to get rich selling plants. But I didn’t need to. Rico made more than enough money to keep us comfortable. I just wanted to do something that brought me joy. And, well, the family could always use another way to wash a little money.
Saff made her way out mid-day after a particularly tense call but I had visits from a bunch of the women in the family throughout the day, reminding me why I’d chosen the name for the shop that I had.
Because roots were exactly what this family had given me. For once in my life, I was safe and stable enough to let my roots grow good and deep, without fear that they might get pulled out at any time. And that allowed me to finally thrive, to reach my own full potential.
Instead of bells on the door, I’d opted for this cute little door chime that chirped like a bird.
“I’ll be right out,” I called, washing my hands after repotting a plant that a curious three-year-old had knocked down while his mom was distracted by a particularly gorgeous Pink Princess philodendron.
“You’re taking a quick lunch break,” Rico’s voice said, walking into the back room with me.
Before I could turn, he was moving in behind me at the sink, pinning me against it with his body. He ducked down, his lips going to my neck, kissing that spot just behind my ear I loved so much.
“Been busy over here,” he said, and my belly flip-flopped at the idea of him watching.
He’d been so supportive through the whole process. Renting the building, helping me plan the interior of the shop, carting endless packages inside with me, listening to my late night panic attacks about it all being a giant failure, and even taking a bunch of the promotional images for the shop for me.
I couldn’t have gotten to opening day without him.
“It has,” I agreed, melting against him. “I think it’s going to go well.”