A/N: Happy holidays from me to you! Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about my other works. My brain is still undependable when it comes to creativity. My job is amazing, but busy. My child is also amazing, but she takes like…all of my energy. Hah.

Anyway. Thank you for being here with me. For all your encouragement. For your eyes on these words. You are a gift, and I hope you enjoy this little holiday ficlet.

"'Oh, holy night…'" Caught up in his work, fingers weaving an orange ribbon through the wicker strands of a cornucopia, Edward first hummed and then sang to himself. "'Long lay the world…'"

"Broooo." Emmett's sharp voice was half whine, half booming command. "You're killing me here. Shut the fuck up."

Edward smirked, pulling the canisters of flowers toward him as he glanced over at his brother. "You're going to have to suck it up, buttercup. You want to know why?"

Emmett's glare was baleful from behind his clipboard across the shop where he was doing inventory. "Because you're a nerd who doesn't know how to look at the calendar."

"No." Edward began arranging bright sunflowers and orange lilies in the foam brick. "Because… it's the holiday season," he crooned.

"Yeah, but it's the wrong holiday." Emmett came over and waved an empty cornucopia in Edward's face. "Does this look like a Christmas tree to you?"

"It is neither my fault nor my problem that Thanksgiving has no music."

Emmett narrowed his eyes.

Edward smiled serenely.

His brother sighed. "Can you at least keep it to a dull roar? You belt out songs like you think you're Idina Menzel's understudy."

Edward let a beat go by as he blinked. Then, he belted the chorus of "O Holy Night" exactly as it was meant to be sung—diaphragm taut, shoulders back. "'Fall on your knees—'"

"Dad! Can you make a 'no Christmas allowed until we get over the tryptophan coma or recover from our Black Friday shopping injuries' rule?"

There was the sound of a rolling chair whooshing backward, then their father's face appeared in the doorway to the back office, his expression unamused. "You know you're both adults, right? To the best of my knowledge, all of my children have at least a decade of experience in adulthood," he said, eyeing Edward.

Emmett spread his arms wide with a dramatic shrug. "I'm not appealing to you as my dad; I'm appealing to you as my boss. Manage this situation."

Their father tilted his head. "Well, seeing as our HR is your mother… I feel confident in telling you to figure it out yourselves. Just don't get blood on the flowers."

And with that, he closed the door between the back office and the family's flower shop.

The brothers looked at each other.

Then, Edward took a deep breath.

"'Hark, how the bells, sweet silver bells. All seem to say, throw cares away,'" he sang in a voice loud enough it seemed to fill the room.

"Whoa." The word roared above the din of Edward's singing and Emmett's bitching. All sound cut off, and they both looked to the door.

There, as though by magic, stood a woman. While small in stature, the fierce look on her face —flushed, though it was from the cold air outside —and her rigid posture made her intimidating. There was something glorious about her. Edward blinked, automatically straightening his own shoulders and snapping to attention.

"For fuck's sake. It's November seventh. Halloween isn't even cold in its grave. Can we not?" she asked.

"Err."

Edward, of course, knew what the word dumbstruck meant. It had never happened to him, and the experience of it was discombobulating to say the least. For one thing, why the hell was he, in fact, struck dumb at this brunette banshee —if first impression was any indication —who would be yet another 'customers suck' anecdote to add to his arsenal?

He cleared his throat, trying to get his head back in the game. "Sorry about that, ma'am."

She closed her eyes, huffing out a breath as she did. Tilting her head back, she inhaled deeply, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet. "Sorry." Another deep breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you, I'm just…" She shook her head. "I'm not in the holly jolly mood."

Edward put on his placating customer service smile. "Well, like you said, it's early. How about we start over? I'm Edward. What are you looking for today?"

Her features twisted, her mouth turning up at one corner in what could have been a mischievous smile if not for the cold fire he saw in her eyes. "Flowers have meaning, right? Roses mean love and all that?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice with that last line.

"Well, red roses mean love," Edward said, stroking his chin. "You'd use pink roses to express gratitude. Yellow for friendship. White for innocence."

Across the shop, Emmett cleared his throat loudly.

Edward tilted his head, smiling again at his customer, who looked, he thought, somewhat bemused. "Anyway. Yes. Flowers have meanings."

"Good." She rolled her shoulders, looking almost angry again, though he didn't think it was at him this time. "So, what would a big bouquet of fuck you look like?"

Edward felt his eyebrows twitch, but otherwise, he managed to keep his expression placid. He heard his brother smother a cough of surprise, though. "Hmm," he said, tapping his chin. "You really aren't ready to spread any holiday cheer."

"Yeah, well. As it turns out, my fiancé, who I've been with for ten years, has been spreading a lot more than cheer for about three of those years, so…"

Edward's heart fell. "Ah."

"I want a big bouquet delivered to his work." She swallowed hard, clearly fighting fury and sorrow both. Her eyes shone bright with tears, but they didn't fall. "He's not a misogynist pig; I don't want you to think I'm that stupid to be with a guy like that, but all his dumb-ass work friends are. He's subjected me to their stupidity for a goddamn decade. They never grew up past twelve-years-old, and a boy getting flowers is more than their tiny lizard brains can cope with."

"I know the type," Edward said, nodding. "We can definitely help you out there." He pulled a notebook toward him and started writing. "Now, flower meanings are just like any kind of communication. It's all about context. Geraniums, for instance, are commonly used to welcome new neighbors. However, they're a simple flower, and in Victorian times, they symbolized stupidity. So, in the context of this bouquet, red geraniums would be a good place to start.

"Foxgloves are another plant with an interesting dichotomy. They're both poisonous and medicinal. But as a flower, they have a meaning of insincerity. I'd do these in pink both because pink symbolizes emotional healing and… well, I'm sure this dickhead's friends would find that just precious."

The customer broke out in a full, if somewhat incredulous smile. When she didn't object, he continued. "A smattering of buttercups to denote childish behavior."

"Ohh," Emmett said under his breath, probably realizing belatedly why Edward referred to him as that particular flower so often.

"Yellow carnations for disappointment and rejection," Edward continued. "And right at the center, two flowers. A single orange lily to symbolize hate and a single black dahlia." He gave her a sympathetic look. "Betrayal."

There was something intense about the look in his customer's eyes, and Edward stared back as though locked in her gaze. Again, he was struck dumb, unable to look away for one, two, three long seconds that seemed heavy and heated.

She swallowed hard, her lips pressed together for another moment before she spoke. "That was... hot," she said, her voice rough and a tone or two lower than it had been.

He blinked.

Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "How do you feel about being a rebound guy to the inevitable train wreck I'm going to be later? No expectations or promises, because I've never done this before."

Edward's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. His cheeks flushed hot. He ran a hand through his hair as he stumbled over his words. "I mean, I… I don't have any plans?"

Somewhere in the shop, he heard the distinct sound of Emmett slapping his palm against his forehead.

The customer nodded slowly. "Hmm. Well. That's something I know now." She sucked in a quick breath, looking away from him as though whatever spell had just come over them had broken. "Anyway, what's this monstrosity going to run me?"

Somehow, Edward managed to complete the order. His heart pounded the whole time, the air between them charged and maybe just a little awkward. He keyed in the employee discount discreetly as he set her expectations for a timeline. The black dahlia was going to take him a day or two to get his hands on.

"And this, if you'll permit me, is for you," he said, feeling only a little bit foolish. He handed three blooms he'd wrapped quickly in cellophane. "Snapdragons. They're tenacious. They grow even in the darkest times." He looked in her eyes—such a beautiful brown. "You deserve better."

Their fingertips brushed when she reached out to take the flowers, and her eyes filled with tears she, again, didn't shed. She took a shaky breath. "Thank you," she said in a whisper. She breathed in again, tilting her chin up. "Thank you," she said with more volume. She nodded once. "I'll be back when I'm single."

And then she was gone, leaving Edward staring at the door.

"Duuuuuude," his brother said, coming up next to him and giving him a healthy whack on the back. "What the hell just happened?"

A/N: See you (hopefully) tomorrow!