Page 100 of Dear Ripley

My heart swelled. This had to be it—Joel’s dreams all coming true.

“Oh, um, she asked me to give you this, too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar yellow envelope. Either she’d written a lot, or this one had something besides a note inside.

I took the bulging envelope nervously. “Thanks. I’ll just… take this upstairs.”

“I’m sure you will,” Joel quipped, leading Ekundayo and the pie off to the kitchen.

I hoped he had enough sense to not force Ekundayo to spend the whole night with our parents. Anybody could see the poor boy was about to burst with anticipation, but we were all fools in love, refusing to see what was right before us for fear of getting hurt. I knew that all too well.

My hands were shaking as I made my way into my room, closing the door behind me. I didn’t know how I knew, but I could tell this one was something different. This envelope was the thing that pushed us over the precipice. Would we be falling into each other, or away again? I hoped for the former so hard my chest hurt.

Only moments ago, I’d resolved to take the lead, sort things out, and tell Ripley how I felt. How very fitting that she’d been thinking the same thing and beat me to it.

With my back against the door for stability, I tore the envelope open.

Inside was a flower. Yellow, but not a carnation this time. Something full, but flatter than a carnation, distinctly different petals. I was almost certain it was a zinnia bloom. I was certain it must mean something, but I had no idea what.

I hoped it was good.

If I was going to be back in Ripley’s life, I was going to need to brush up on my flower knowledge. With me, at least, it seemed to be the way she communicated, and, after everything, I wanted to understand every little thing she was telling me.

I held the flower close as I pulled out the note. It was shorter than our usual correspondence these days.

Zinnia (yellow): daily remembrance of beloved memories.

Meet me at Petal and Pebble?

My heart pounded. A question, not a command. I had a choice. She wanted me to have a choice. She wanted me to choose her.

Daily remembrance… beloved memories…

She remembered too. I’d known she had in all of those shared glances today, but I’d—well, I’d been a fool in love. Too afraid to believe too hard, in fear of getting hurt.

But here she was, reaching out, offering something, and hoping I’d agree.

Before I knew I’d made a decision—as if a decision even needed to be made—I was tripping over my own feet to get out of my door. I was certain I’d been more graceful than this. Ripley messed with my equilibrium in every way a person could. And I loved all of it.

“Going out for a few minutes,” I called with a shaky voice to the kitchen where I could hear the others eating pie. “Be back later.”

Before they could respond—in fear that they heard the trembling—I half ran out of the door and followed the familiar path back to Ripley. It didn’t seem to matter where she was, the path towards her was one I’d been walking my whole life, even when I didn’t realize it.

I paused two stores down from Petal and Pebble in a futile bid to catch my breath. I didn’t truly think it was the walk that had winded me.

The gentle, romantic glow from within the shop called to me. It was too late for any of the stores to still be open, and the dark, quiet street simply served to make the soft, glowing lights more enticing. Not that Ripley needed any help in that respect.

My legs felt like jelly as I moved towards the door, my fingers like ice as they closed around the handle, letting me into the store.

I heard her whoosh of breath—relief and panic that I’d come. And quickly.

I took a deep breath, something about the sound steeling me, making me brave. She was every bit as nervous and invested in this as I was. Together in this as we were in so many things.

I walked into the middle of the store, taking in the lanterns and fairy lights that glowed all around me, turning the place into a magical, romantic wonderland.

If I had any about doubts what this meeting might be, the setting was enough to sway them. And there she was. In the middle of it all, looking beautiful and radiant, and even more perfect than she had the day I met her.

Tears welled in my eyes. Eight years of missing her, regretting losing her, and wishing I’d never met her because I knew I’d never get over her. Eight years of stubborn sadness and the belief that if my life moved on, I could force myself to forget her.

There was no forgetting Ripley Stone.

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