Page 20 of A Heart in Bloom

“Mamma, it’s not my place to say anything,” she began, her voice firmer now, bolstered by Allen’s quiet strength. “But I won’t be getting married in June. Please have the Carters talk to Judson.”

“Camellia,” her mother snapped, her voice rising with indignation. “You are almost twenty-eight years old. You can’t wait any longer to marry, or you won’t have any good eggs left to give me grandchildren! I don’t understand why you two didn’t marry years ago. Who has a six-year engagement? If things have gone badly between you, it’s because you waited too long to lock that boy down. He’s had too much freedom, waiting for you to come of age. We should have insisted on a wedding the moment you turned eighteen…”

“Mamma, Judd and I were never meant to be together,” Cammie said, her voice steady despite the ache building in her chest. “It’s you and Eloise living in a fantasy of being one big happy family that got us here. Just be happy being best friends and leave your children out of it. I need to go. I love you. Kiss Daddy for me.”

She ended the call before her mother could respond. Her fingers hovered over the phone for a moment, trembling as the weight of what she’d just done sank in. She had never spoken to her mother like that before. While she hadn’t been outright disrespectful, her words had been blunt—too sharp, perhaps, to be called kind.

Tears streaked down her cheeks before she could stop them. Allen turned her gently, pulling her into a warm embrace. His arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, and she sank into his chest, feeling both safe and unbearably raw. The ache in her heart deepened.

She wasn’t ready to love a man—not yet. She didn’t even want to think about it. But if she did, she’d want someone like Allen. She treasured his friendship more than she could put into words, but letting herself open her heart to him? That wasn’t possible.

Cammie didn’t care if her eggs shriveled up, as her mother so bluntly put it. She never wanted to feel the sting of betrayal again, like when Judson had cheated on her. She never wanted to be in a position where she relied on someone for her very livelihood, as she had been with Hunter. The only man who had never let her down was her father—and she was convinced the mold had been broken after him.

But as she sniffled against Allen’s chest, his hands gently stroking her hair, his voice low and soothing as he told her how proud he was of her for standing up for herself, she couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe the Lord had made one more man like her father—and maybe that man was holding her in his arms right now.

Her fear of letting someone in again was real, but as she leaned against Allen’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the strength in his embrace, she wondered if she was wrong to keep pushing him away. Maybe he wasn’t like the others. Maybe he was exactly what she needed.

After she calmed down, Allen pressed a kiss to her forehead and asked if she was okay. She assured him she was but didn’t want to talk about it. A chapter had closed, and though she felt lighter knowing her parents now knew the truth, she needed time to adjust to the finality of it.

He said he understood and wished her goodnight, pressing one more kiss to her head as had become his custom. The gesture made her feel loved, cherished, but without any pressure for more. She felt comfortable and confident in her friendship with Allen and didn’t want anything to jeopardize that.

After turning on the faucet to start a bath, Cammie returned to the great room to finish arranging the supplies. Her gaze landed on Allen’s sticky note, and something clicked. The warmth she’d felt when she first read it—the sense of support and care—had been undeniable. But now, as she studied the handwriting more closely, familiarity crept in, stirring a new realization.

Slipping into the bedroom, she retrieved the small box of hearts she’d collected over the past month. At first, they’d been unsettling. But as January wore on and more appeared in the most unexpected places, the unease gave way to delight. Finding a new one each day had become a game, like an Easter egg hunt in the wrong season.

The hearts had been tucked under windshield wipers and nestled in the cardboard sleeve of her morning coffee. She’d found them hidden under napkins at restaurants, slipped into grocery bags from Sweet Valley Grocery, clipped to the lamp post lights on Main Street, dropped into her boots by the back door, and even tucked into the flower cooler. They seemed to appear everywhere, each one carrying a timely, heartfelt message that felt as if it had been written just for her.

Well, except for the one that read,Your feet are as dainty as a princess’s.That one had been disturbing and more than a little creepy.

Dumping the box of red and pink hearts onto her dove-gray duvet cover, she began sorting them into piles by handwriting. Sure enough, the largest pile of notes was written in dark, bold lettering—Allen’s. He must have used the permanent marker he always had clipped to the neckline of his shirt. The second-largest pile was written in an elegant, feminine script. Picking up one of those, she walked to her coffee cup on the new kitchen island and smiled. It matched Gwen’s handwriting perfectly.

The rest were a mix of different styles and paper textures, a collective effort that made her heart warm. Tomorrow, she’dcorner Gwen and find out the story behind the notes. But she already had a pretty good idea of what was happening—and the realization sent tiny buds of warmth unfurling in her chest. Allen had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome, special, and… loved.

The only problem was… she’d resolved to keep Allen firmly in the friend zone, keeping her heart walled off from love. But he was doing a very good job of slipping through the cracks.Where that left her emotionally, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a place she felt safe staying for long, and as much as she tried to keep him at arm’s length, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep him—or her growing feelings—there.

Chapter Eighteen

Girls’ day and the gift basket-making party were in full swing when Cammie finally worked up the nerve to approach Gwen, who was stationed at the far end of the long table. With a measured breath, she placed the box of hearts on the table’s edge, just within Gwen’s line of sight. Leaning in slightly, she whispered, “Care to explain this?”

The room stilled instantly. Five pairs of eyes snapped to her, the rustling of tissue paper and the soft hum of conversation fading into silence. Even little Grace, who had been happilybouncing on her toes moments ago, froze mid-motion, her wide brown eyes fixed on the exchange.

Gwen’s sudden burst of laughter shattered the tension, startling Cammie. For a fleeting second, she was caught off guard—but as the levity radiated from Gwen’s petite frame, it proved infectious. The other women quickly joined in, their laughter rising and blending into a symphony of delight.

Cammie stood back, patiently waiting for the explanation she knew would come. In the meantime, she let herself enjoy the sound of their laughter. It felt good to be surrounded by such joy, and she knew—without a doubt—they weren’t laughing at her.

Finally, Gwen wiped a tear from her cheek and reached for the clipped stack of notes in the box, the yellow sticky note sitting prominently on top. “Oh, girl,” she said with a chuckle, holding up the bundle for the others to see. “You figured it out. Allen had a good run, but I guess this little note blew his cover.”

Chuckles rippled around the table as Gwen gestured to the stack. “It was all Allen’s idea. I figured it out when he slipped that note onto your plate at Gathering Grounds. Honestly, I was worried you’d think he was some kind of stalker, so I stepped in. I took his notes and enlisted my sisters to help,” she explained, motioning to the women gathered around the table—her college roommates and soul sisters.

“Mrs. Edwards saw Mamma drop a heart on your plate at the café and got all huffy that she hadn’t received one,” Becky chimed in with a grin. “So, naturally, my parents called us in and made us create hundreds more for the other patrons.”

“The same thing happened at GatheringGrounds,” Anika added. “Gwen and I spent hours creating hearts with her Cricut machine because our hands were too sore from handwriting notes for the Davis’ that we couldn’t do any more for the coffee shop.”

Gwen leaned forward, her tone softening as she explained, “But all of yours were handwritten. Allen came up with a whole list of messages for you, and we made sure your pile stayed separate from the more generic ones. No matter whose handwriting it’s in, the message is from him.”

“So, the one about my feet being as dainty as a princess'?” Cammie asked, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t Allen,” Harper said with a conspiratorial wink. “Some of the townspeople decided to join in the fun, and we can’t be held responsible for those. Notes about feet? Those had to come from Dr. Foster. He’s a retired podiatrist friend of my dad’s who moved to town last year. A little obsessed with feet, but otherwise harmless.”

---