Breaking down walls

The first frost of the season had arrived overnight, leaving a delicate layer of silver dusting the flower shop's window. Inside Petals & Posies, the warmth of the room—along with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and drying eucalyptus—kept the encroaching chill at bay.

I stood at the counter, wrapping a bouquet of white peonies and dusty miller for a customer's winter wedding, my hands working on autopilot. My mind, however, was far away. On him.

Lorenzo Hayes.

What had started as a series of fiery clashes had evolved into something I hadn't expected: a fragile but growing connection that I wasn't sure either of us had the tools to define. We were spending more time together, learning to navigate each other's rhythms. But even as I fell deeper, I could feel his walls—strong, silent, and unyielding—keeping me at arm's length in certain moments.

It was frustrating. And it was starting to feel... unsustainable.

"Hey, you okay?" Deborah's voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up, startled to find her leaning against the counter, a knowing smirk on her face. "I'm fine," I replied, though my voice lacked conviction.

Deborah wasn't fooled. "Fine, huh? Because you've been tying that ribbon for about three minutes, and it still looks like a tangled mess."

I glanced down at the bouquet and groaned. She was right.

"Alright, spill," she said, pulling a stool up beside me. "What's got you all distracted? And don't even try to tell me it's inventory or vendor invoices."

"It's nothing," I tried again, but the sharp look she gave me told me I wouldn't be getting away with vague answers.

"Lorenzo," I admitted reluctantly.

Deborah's smirk deepened. "Ah, the billionaire boyfriend strikes again. What did he do this time?"

"He didn't do anything," I said, sighing as I set the bouquet aside. "That's the problem. Things are... good between us. But it's like there's this invisible barrier that neither of us knows how to cross. Every time I try to ask about his past or what he wants for the future, he shuts down. I feel like I'm standing in front of a locked door, and I don't even know where the key is."

Deborah considered this for a moment, her playful demeanor softening. "Sounds like he's scared."

"Of what?"

"Of letting you in. Of being vulnerable." She paused. "Lila, you're probably the first person who's ever asked him to open up. Give him time, but don't let him off the hook. He's got to meet you halfway."

Her words settled into my chest like a stone. I nodded, but a part of me wondered if time alone would be enough.

The opportunity to confront Lorenzo's walls came sooner than I expected.

That afternoon, while I was rearranging the front display, the shop bell jingled, signaling a customer. I turned, expecting a familiar face, but instead found a stranger—an elegant woman in her mid-thirties, dressed in a tailored coat and impossibly high heels. Her dark hair was sleek and shiny, and her red lipstick was applied with precision.

She didn't seem like the type to wander into a flower shop by accident.

"Can I help you?" I asked, setting down a vase of tulips.

Her sharp gaze swept over the shop before landing on me. "You must be Lila."

I stiffened. "I am. And you are?"

"Claudia," she said smoothly, as if the name alone should mean something to me. When it didn't, she added, "I work with Lorenzo."

Of course she did.

"Nice to meet you, Claudia," I said cautiously. "What can I do for you?"

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "I came to speak with you about Lorenzo."

My stomach tightened. "What about him?"

Claudia's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I've known Lorenzo for years. He's brilliant, ambitious, and incredibly good at what he does. But relationships aren't his strength. He tends to... get distracted."

I bristled, understanding the implication all too well. "Lorenzo isn't a distraction," I said evenly.

"Perhaps not," she allowed, though her tone was anything but convincing. "But I thought you should know—he's always had a habit of leaving when things get complicated. It's nothing personal. It's just how he's wired."

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, the bell jingled again, and Lorenzo himself stepped inside.

His expression darkened the moment he saw Claudia. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Claudia turned to him, her smile widening. "Lorenzo. Always such a warm welcome."

"Claudia," he said, his voice cold enough to freeze the room. "Whatever you're trying to do, don't."

"I'm not 'trying' anything," she said innocently. "I was just having a friendly chat with Lila. I thought she deserved to know what she's getting into."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened, his gray eyes flashing with anger. "Leave. Now."

Claudia's smirk faltered, but she recovered quickly. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn her."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the shop, leaving an icy silence in her wake.

A Conversation Long Overdue

"Who was that?" I asked once the door had swung shut.

Lorenzo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Claudia's an old... associate. We worked together on a few projects years ago."

"And she just decided to show up out of the blue?"

"She's trying to stir up trouble," he said, his voice tight.

"Why?"

"Because that's what she does. She's bitter, and she likes to meddle in things that aren't her business."

I folded my arms, not satisfied with his evasive answers. "Lorenzo, if there's something I need to know—"

"There's nothing," he interrupted, his tone sharper than I'd ever heard it.

The room went quiet, tension crackling between us like a live wire.

"Lorenzo," I said carefully, "I'm not asking because I want to fight with you. I'm asking because I care about you. But if you keep shutting me out like this..." My voice wavered, but I forced myself to continue. "I don't know how much longer I can keep trying."

His eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought he might finally let me in. But then he looked away, his jaw tightening.

"I need some air," he muttered, turning and walking out of the shop without another word.

*****

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling and replaying the day's events in my mind. Claudia's words, Lorenzo's silence, my own growing frustration—it all churned inside me, leaving me restless.

By morning, I knew I couldn't keep living in this limbo.

When Lorenzo showed up at the shop that afternoon, looking as exhausted as I felt, I took a deep breath and met him at the door.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice firm.

He hesitated but nodded, following me to the small sitting area in the back of the shop.

"I don't know what Claudia's deal is, and honestly, I don't care," I began, crossing my arms. "What I care about is you. But if you're not willing to let me in, then this—us—it's not going to work."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. "Lila—"

"No," I interrupted. "You don't get to deflect this time, Lorenzo. You've been keeping me at arm's length since the day we met, and I've tried to be patient, but I'm done waiting. If you can't be honest with me—about your past, about what you want—then tell me now so I can stop wasting my time."

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he spoke.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I've been keeping things from you. Not because I don't care, but because... I do. More than I ever thought I could."

I blinked, caught off guard by his admission.

"I've spent my entire life building walls," he continued, his voice raw. "They've kept me safe, but they've also kept me... alone. Letting you in—it terrifies me, Lila. Because if I lose you..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor.

I reached for his hand, my own trembling slightly. "You won't lose me," I said softly. "But you have to let me in. All the way."

He took a deep breath, his gray eyes meeting mine with a vulnerability I'd never seen before.

"Okay," he said finally. "No more walls."

That night, Lorenzo told me everything.

He talked about his childhood—the neglect, the pressure to succeed, the constant feeling that he had to prove his worth. He talked about his rise to power, the mistakes he'd made, and the people he'd hurt along the way. And he talked about the moment he realized he wanted something more—something real.

It wasn't an easy conversation, and there were moments when I could see how much it cost him to share. But for the first time, I felt like I was truly seeing him—not the billionaire, not the investor, but the man beneath it all.

As the hours passed and the words flowed between us, the walls that had once seemed so impenetrable began to crumble.

And as I lay beside him that night, our fingers intertwined, I knew that we were finally on the path to building something real. Something that could last.