Page 96 of The Best Friend Power Play

Ma comes over over and listens in.

Nonna shrugs. "I went home, and I thought about love. It really is a crazy thing."

"The craziest," Ma concurs.

"There's no rhyme or reason to it," Nonna continues. "If people believe in love at first sight, then why not love at, say, one thousandth or ten thousandth sight?"

"That's a really good point." I say.

"Your Nonno and I talked. We were scared of losing the friendship we had, but we also knew we could possibly have something even better if we took a chance. So we took a chance. And eleven kids later, here we all are."

"I feel like you're trying to tell me something, Nonna."

Both she and Ma smile.

"I think you know what I'm trying to say." Nonna reaches up and places her small hand on my shoulder. "You love Hannah, and she loves you. What we risk reveals what we value, Culver. Yes, you have a good friendship, but you could have something so much more."

"Life is short, son," Ma says, with nothing but affection in her eyes. "If you love her and want to be with her, go for it."

I don't know what to say, but I think…I think I just had a major life epiphany while doing the dishes.

17

Hannah

Some people—like Evie—watch hockey obsessively and catalog statistics and performance feedback in a spreadsheet which they then forward to a certain hockey player they know.

Other people—like Beth—like taking photos of books they've stacked in a variety of interesting and pretty ways and showcasing them on social media.

Arranging flowers has always been my thing.

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in this very flower shop, watching Mom as she meticulously plucked and sorted and arranged beautiful bouquet after beautiful bouquet. She'd hum to herself, and I remember such a feeling of peace. It seemed like magic to me as a little girl, watching as she took separate stems of flowers and brought them together to create something so pretty and colorful.

The door opens, and I smile when I see who it is. "Culver, what are you doing here?"

"Thought you might like some company on the walk home."

He comes over to me, and I notice a slight stiffness in the way he's moving. "Are you okay? How's the hip?"

"A bit sore." He leans over the counter and gives me a kiss before admiring what I've been working on. "These look great."

"Thank you," I reply, but I won't let him distract me with a compliment. "Can I do anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks. A walk will do me good."

"Cool. Give me five minutes?"

"No problem."

I finish off the bouquet I was working on and then wipe down the counter. I've already swept the floors, so I quickly lock up the cash register, turn off all floral coolers and lighting, and flick the Open sign to Closed.

Since he said walking is good for his hip, I don't turn right to go home but instead go left toward the town center and the gazebo. We can do a few laps of the square until he's had enough.

"How was your day?" I ask.

"Good. I drove up to see Brock."

"Oh, nice. How's he doing? He was his usual quiet self at dinner the other night."

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