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“Oh man, hope they don’t find out what you do for a living,” Amanda says with a snort. She can’t see the hurt that zips through me at her words. “Alright, we’ve got sunflowers for good intentions and happiness. Calla lilies for goodwill. Definitely no chrysanthemum, it’s a death flower. Peonies for love and marriage, if you’re seriously romancing her.”

“Sunflowers it is. Last thing I want to do is tell her mother I want to marry her,” I say, warding off Amanda’s imminent line of questioning.

“Her mother?” Amanda yells, incredulous. “You’re meeting her family? You’re a big, fat liar, Reed, because that’s beyond serious!”

Damn. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but not to me. I hope you know what you’re getting into,” she warns. I’m afraid to answer, for fear of digging myself a deeper hole.

“At least if I screw up too bad I can move on,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

“Can you?” Amanda asks dryly.

I don’t know. “Support me, okay? Tell me that Kinley isn’t going to be the last romantic experience I have. Tell me my love life doesn’t have to end as a horror story.”

After a long pause, Amanda’s voice is soft and apologetic. “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, go with the sunflowers. Get an odd number—even is bad luck. And wear a button-down. Always better to be too formal than too casual.”

I know she’s pushing past what she actually wants to say, but I don’t want to overthink this any more than I already am. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles. “First class plane tickets twice a year.”

It should worry me that it makes me smile, but I’m too happy to bother. “I’ll remember.”

When we hang up, a new type of energy bounces through me. I need feedback from someone that’s not Amanda. My last message to Grant was over a month ago, but there’s no one else who might understand.

Hey. What if I told you I found someone that just…fuck, bro… Do you believe in love at first sight?

Hasn’t happened to me. You telling me it’s real?

Not sure. Is that insane?

So what if it is? You’ve always known how to make shit happen, Reed. Who cares if it’s love or not? If you want her, go for her. No one can tell you what you want except you.

Thanks, Grant. Come to Easter this year, okay? Mom misses you.

I close out my messages and dial Chelsea’s flower shop for the third day in a row. My brother has always been a man of few words, but he’s right. I don’t need to overanalyze this. I’m positive that tonight won’t be the last that I’m eager to spend with Petronia Diamante.

Chapter nineteen

Petra

I spend the drivehome manifesting some luck that I’ll be able to sneak in quietly or, at least, that my family will politely ignore my absence. Of course, then they wouldn’t be my family.

“Petronia!” Ma yells, right as I walk in the door. Her East Coast accent is out in full force today—not a good sign. “Why did we hear from Livi this morning that you were out on adatefrom which you didn’t come home? Papa was worried sick!”

I hold in my eye roll. They obviously weren’t worried if they didn’t know I was gone until Livi called.

“Good daughters call,” Papa interjects with a stern face. His one line causes an avalanche of guilt quicker than any of Ma’s tirades. I can’t handle the weight of it, and throw Livi under the bus.

“Sorry, Papa. I knew Livi did, so I didn’t take the time to. I should’ve.”

“You should’ve,” he agrees, but sighs as I wrap him in a hug. All the fight goes out of him, and Ma must see it.

“Tommaso!” she yells, brandishing a chef’s knife. I let go of him and back out of her range. “Is thatallyou gotta say?”

“Anita,” Papa says, with raised hands and a hopeless tilt of his head. “She’s a grown woman. She apologized. What do you want me to do?”

“Me?”Mama shouts, exasperated. “Really? You were the one pacing and shouting—rilin’ me up all day—saying,she’ll always be my baby.Suddenly she’s agrown woman,says sorry, and that’s enough for you?”

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