Page 36 of Petals and Plot Twists
“I didn’t know you had your grandmother’s journals,” Peter says.
“Yeah, he gave them to me when I was in middle school. Eighth grade, maybe? His mom died before I was born, so I never met her, which made it all feel very weird to me. I barely knewhim,so it seemed strange he’d want me to get to know his mom.”
“He just randomly showed up with them one day?” Peter asks.
“Not entirely,” I say. “He got into a fight with my mom, I think. Probably because he was never around. I overheard them on the phone, and she said all this stuff to him, listed off all the things that were going on in my life. I’d planted a garden all by myself, and I’d won the science fair at school and gotten straight A’s and started my period for the first time. I really loved that part—that she felt like she needed to includethat,talking to a man I rarely even saw. Anyway, it must have triggered some kind of guilt trip because he showed up the next day with a box of his mom’s things and took me to get ice cream.”
“Wow,” Peter says. “That’s…was it awful?”
“Totally awful,” I say. “The only thing he asked about was my period.”
“Not the science fair?” Peter asks. “That would have been so easy.”
“He was nervous,” I say. “And I could tell he was trying, it was just…I don’t know.”
“Too little, too late?”
I shrug. “Yeah, maybe.”
“It had to be hard,” Peter says, his tone gentle. “Seeing you grow up. Knowing he wasn’t a part of your life.”
“I’m sure,” I say. “But he could have been. Until we moved to Serendipity Springs, he lived on the other side of town. It was a thirty-minute drive, Peter. That’s nothing. I know he couldn’t be my mom’s husband, but he could have still been my dad.” Familiar tension claws at my throat, and I shove it away, just like I always do. “It’s honestly fine though,” I say. “I got over it a long time ago.”
Peter slips an arm around my back and tugs me toward him. I fall against his side, breathing in his familiar scent, and my nerves immediately start to settle. “Even if you aren’t over it,” he says, “it’s okay. It sucks. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t suck.”
I take a deep breath. “Yeah, it does suck, doesn’t it?”
“So what do you do now?” he says. “Do you still have the journals?”
“I’m sure they’re still at Mom’s,” I say. “Probably in her attic. So I guess that means I get to go see her.”
“When does she get home from her cruise?” Peter asks.
“Any day now, I think,” I say. “She texted yesterday and said she was back in the states.”
Peter gives my shoulders a squeeze. “Let me know if you want me to go with you,” he says. “It’s the least I can do after you came here with me.”
I will let him come with me. Of course I will.
And I will carefully file away any thought or feeling about Peter being more than just my friend.
This, right here, this is why I need him in my life.
This is why I can’t risk losing him.
Chapter Twelve
Peter
Steve handsme one more container of LEGO pieces and I add it to the very tall stack of storage bins in the basement of The Serendipity.
“I think that’s the last one,” Steve says as he slides his hands down his sweater vest. Steve and I are relatively new acquaintances, but I immediately liked his mild manner and no-nonsense approach to running things. “You havea lotof LEGO sets, Peter.”
“I was kind of a lonely kid,” I say, and Steve nods his head in understanding.
“Ahh. I get it,” he says.
“Thanks for your help.” I close the metal caging that surrounds my small section of storage space. Up until an hour ago, the only things down here were my bicycle and the luggage set my parents gave me when I graduated from college. Now, it’s full of bins of LEGO bricks…stacked, well, like LEGO bricks. I still have no idea what I’m going to do with them all. I probably could sell them. But Sophie was right. If I eventually get married and have kids, it might be nice to hang onto them.
