Page 71 of Petals and Plot Twists
The rest of the word cuts off, but it’s easy to guess what it says. You’ll be a great addition. But addition to what? The Charlotte team?
A knot of dread forms in the pit of my stomach. Was Peter offered a promotion…in a different city? InCharlotte?
If he was, why hasn’t he talked to me about it?
Bigger question: what would I do if Peter actually moved out of Serendipity Springs?
I just kissed the man like I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Not that long distance relationships can’t work, but they are more complicated. And I really feel like I should have known this was on the table.
Before kissing him.
Beforefalling for him.
Peter pops his head out of the pantry, a box of cereal in his hand.
Acting on impulse, I reach forward and slam his laptop closed. His eyes follow my movement, and he frowns.
“Sorry,” I quickly say. “I just didn’t want to…break it. With all the cleaning.”
“Okay,” he says. “Do you want to keep these? I haven’t seen you eating plain Cheerios, well, ever.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “You can toss them. They’re probably stale anyway.”
“K. I’m just about done in here. What’s next?”
I have no idea what to say. Do I confront him? Ask him? I have to, don’t I? But I’m having a hard time with the hurt blooming in my chest.
I don’t know why he didn’t tell me. And I really hate that he didn’t.
“Actually, I think I’m going to run up to the roof to cover the annuals,” I say, suddenly desperate for a reason to escape. “I got an alert that says there might be hail with the thunderstorm coming through. I don’t want to risk losing all the blooms off the petunias.” The forecast really does call for hail, but I also need a minute to gather my thoughts and figure out how to talk to Peter about his move.Possiblemove? I wish I knew.
Peter frowns, and I immediately recognize his struggle. In any other circumstance, he would offer to help, but my petunias are in my garden, and so is the love flower.
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to reassure him. “It won’t take me long. I don’t need your help.”
His jaw tightens like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he nods. “Okay. I’ll be here then.”
It’s windy when I reach the garden, the gathering clouds a deep, dark gray. I find a roll of plastic sheeting in the storage closet by the stairs and dig out a handful of small stakes from the bottom shelf.
It shouldn’t take long, but I’m not sure I’ll finish before the rain starts. Honestly, this actually would be easier with a second person, and I regret telling Peter to stay behind. With this kind of storm bearing down on us, we might not have even noticed the love flower.
A sharp gust of chilly spring wind ruffles my hair as I approach the flower beds that need covering. I’m not worried about the perennials and the heartier stuff that can handle a little bit of a beating. But the petunias and begonias and marigolds will get totally shredded in a hailstorm. A drop of rain falls onto my arm, and I glance up at the sky.
Idefinitelyneed some help.
“Hi. Are you Sophie?”
I look up to see a man standing a few feet away. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with sandy blond hair and deep brown eyes. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.
“Yes?” I say. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
He frowns. “I’m David. I think we have plans to have lunch together today?”
David.
Oh my gosh!
David!
