Page 42 of Petals and Plot Twists
“Good,” he says. “All good.”
I say goodbye to my mom, promising to text her so we can make plans to have lunch, then follow Peter out to his car.
“You sure everything is okay?” I say after I’ve dropped the box into the back seat and climbed in. “What did my mother say to you?”
He clears his throat. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Peter,” I say. “You clearly aren’t.”
His eyes dart to mine. “I am. It was just a lot of stuff about you and…me. How she wisheswewould just date.”
“Oh. Well that’s—” My words cut off even as heat climbs my face. “Well that’s just silly.”
“Did you tell her I have a date tonight?” I say, though the tone of my voice is all wrong. It sounds artificial, even a little squeaky, like I’m trying really hard.
Peter’s jaw tenses. “I didn’t mention it,” he says without taking his eyes off the road. “But I guess I should have.”
Most of the time, when Mom asks about my dating life, she makes a joke about Peter being my backup plan, then volunteers to set me up with the son or the nephew or the distant second cousin of her latest conquest. It’s odd to know she was this pointed with Peter, if only because it’s a shift from the norm.
But then her earlier accusation pops into the front of my mind.You’re the one hiding here. Not me.
Hiding from what?
From a serious relationship? And then she turns around and tells Peter she thinks we should date.
There is truth buried somewhere in my fragmented thoughts. Some kernel of wisdom that I sense lurking, hiding just beyond reach, but I can’t grasp it. I can’t see it clearly.
But as I think about my dad living his life with his family, helping his daughter with her family history project or my mom, lounging by her pool or cruising the world with beautiful men, I do start to wonder.
What if the person most damaged by my parents’ divorce wasme?
Chapter Fourteen
Peter
I’m reeling here.It’s been a solid week since I learned about the job in Charlotte, and I’m no closer to knowing what to do. I haven’t even told anyone about the offer. Not Sophie. Not Allison. Not my parents.
Professionally, it would be an incredible move.Mostlyan incredible move. I have concerns about how I would fit in a corporate culture. I like wearing a suit every once in a while, but it’s hard to imagine doing it every day. And I have so much freedom working in Serendipity Springs. Dr. Conway is an excellent boss, and while I don’t make as much money as I could, I make enough.
I’m not sure what I’d gain would compensate for what I’d be giving up.
On a personal level, part of me wants to take it just to get away from Sophie. To make it a little easier to box up my feelings like I did last time. It got easier when we were in college. The distance helped.
But another part can’t stop thinking about my sister’s assertion last weekend that I’m not being fair to Sophie if I don’t tell her how I feel. Even Sophie’s mom thinks we’re meant to be together.
Even if that’s true,howdo I broach the subject when Sophie seems so excited about dating other people?
My thoughts are not less jumbled when I find Sophie’s date standing on the stoop outside The Serendipity’s front door at seven p.m. on the nose, and for the first time, I’m faced with a guy who looks like he actuallycouldbe Sophie’s soulmate.
“Jake?” I say, as I hold open the front door.
“Yes?” he says, his confusion reasonable since he’s expecting Sophie, and I’m not half as beautiful as she is.
Jake, though. Heisbeautiful. Stupidly so. He’s an inch or two taller than I am with broad shoulders and really good hair. Thick and full. His teeth are straight, his eyes are bright blue. He looks like he belongs in a car commercial. Or in a print ad selling cologne.
I immediately hate the guy.
Which is stupid and wrong, and I do my best to swallow the emotion. Because it isn’t hatred. It’s jealousy. And I’m enough of a man to admit it, even just to myself.
