Page 46 of Forever Writing You

No matter how often I tossed and turned, adjusted the thermostat, or played my “calming rain” playlist, I couldn’t shut my eyes for more than a few minutes.

Too restless to try other methods, I rolled out of bed and pulled on my favorite overalls and boots.

Grabbing this week’s task list, I slipped into my car and drove straight for Blooms & Letters.

When I stepped outside, Everett grabbed my waist from behind and spun me around.

“I hate that you didn’t tell me,” he said. “You should’ve…”

“Sir, we don’t open for another few hours.”

“Cut the shit, Dahlia.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s best for me has always been you, and as much as I can see why you felt the way you did, you should’ve told me.”

He pressed a finger against my mouth before I could explain myself.

“Yes, I would’ve kissed you and told you it’s okay,” he said. “Yes, I would’ve told you that we could keep trying, year after year, and if that day never came…”

He paused and pressed a kiss against my lips. “It would’ve been okay.”

I shook my head, feeling tears welling in my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re emotional and you’re not getting married to Carmen anymore.”

“Fuck Carmen.” He held me tighter. “I’m still in love with you, Dahlia. I’ve never stopped being in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too.” My voice cracked.

Before I could say another word, he kissed me so hard and deep it took my breath away.

“Did you leave those thorns on Carmen’s bouquet on purpose?” he whispered.

“Of course, I did.”

“What about the thorns on mine?”

“Huh? I never sent you any.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said. “I received them last week I just didn’t say anything.”

“I promise I didn’t.” I was confused. “I was planning to send you some cacti, but I held off on that.”

“Hold on…”

He let me go and rushed to his car.

Several minutes later, he returned with a bouquet of bright white roses I never handled.

“These,” he said. “The return address is the garden, and you wrote a petty little note. I don’t know why you sent them to my mother’s house, though.”

I flipped the tag over and read.

You’re about to make the biggest mistake of your life.

You still have time to fix it.

For Dahlia

“These say for Dahlia,” I said. “Not from…Someone else had to have sent these.”

“Your mom sent him those.”Gertrude was suddenly walking behind us. “Well, I sent them on her behalf. It was one of her final requests to me, and clearly the boy has come to his senses.”

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