Page 77 of Petals and Plot Twists
It will be, I think to myself. As long as she isn’t in it.
I stand and offer Sophie a hand. When she slips her fingers into mine, I tug her to her feet and pull her into an embrace.
She melts into my chest, her cheek pressed against me, and I lean down and press a lingering kiss to the top of her head. “It’ll be okay,” I say. “Whatever happens.”
“Peter, I’m scared,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”
Me freaking too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sophie
Despite my insistencethat he stay, Peter decides to go back to his own apartment after our conversation.
We also decide to delay our date tonight.
I get it.
We’re definitely at some sort of crossroads, and living together, dating like everything is normal, will only make it more difficult for us to be objective, to think clearly.
But I miss Peter when he’s gone. I miss his belongings stacked in the corner of the living room. His laundry basket beside the couch. I miss his laptop and his work things on the corner of the kitchen table. I just misshim.The way he makes me feel anchored, happy no matter what’s going on at work or with my family or anywhere else. It feels good to be around him, and it only takes a few minutes for his absence to feel more like a gaping hole in my life than a smart decision.
As soon as he’s moved out the last of his things, I finally get dressed and head back up to the roof to uncover the flowers. It’s nearly dinner time now, and my stomach grumbles on my way up the last flight of stairs, reminding me that with everything that’s happened today, I haven’t had anything to eat. Not since the coffee Peter made for me this morning.
Was that really only this morning? When I stood in my kitchen and kissed Peter’s coffee-warm lips? It seems so long ago.
On the rooftop, the early evening sky is clear, the air crisp and clean after the afternoon’s storm. Most of the plants look okay, despite the hail that fell earlier. Some leaves are damaged, but nothing severe enough to keep any of the plants from recovering.
Removing the plastic is much easier to do on my own, and it only takes a couple of minutes to pull up the stakes and roll up the sheeting. The flowers underneath look perfectly happy, blooms intact, leaves lifting toward the sky.
Once everything in the garden is tended for the night, I put away my supplies, then head back downstairs. When I reach my apartment, I find a brown paper to-go bag sitting on the floor in front of my door with a note stuck to the outside.
I reach down and pick up the note.
Pretty sure no situation exists that isn’t improved with tacos. Enjoy. –Peter
I carry the food inside, setting it on the table before pulling out my phone to send Peter a text.
Sophie
Really? NO situation? Are showers better with tacos? Or pap smears? What about a prostate exam?
Peter
Honestly, if I had to endure a prostate exam, I might enjoy the distraction of a good taco.
Sophie
Okay, fine. Same with the pap smear. But a shower? You can’t argue that one.
Peter
I could. For the right taco. You’d just have to eat fast. Have you eaten yet?
Sophie
