Page 83 of Petals and Plot Twists
Willa grimaces.
“Wait, are you serious? Youdoactually know it as a fact?
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious just from the way he looks at you. But yes. The night you had dinner with Jake, Peter came here, drank with Archer, and basically told us everything.”
“And you didn’t say anything to me about it?”
“It wasn’t my information to tell,” she says. “And Peter wasn’t ready for you to know. Not when you were in the middle of Operation Soulmate.”
“But then I came to you and told you I liked him, and you still didn’t say anything!” I say. “What kind of a best friend are you?”
“The kind who knew you needed the journey more than you needed the information. You needed this, Soph. You needed to believe in yourself more than you believed in the flower. I have zero regrets for keeping Peter’s secret.” She rubs her hands together. “Now. What’s the rest of your week look like? Because I think you need to fly to Charlotte to surprise your man.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Peter
A partof me hoped I wouldn’t like Charlotte. That I would come down here and feel like the city is too big or the office is too corporate.
But I’ve found the exact opposite. The thriving city nestled into the foothills of North Carolina is bustling and busy and beautiful, and it only takes a couple of days for me to imagine myself living here.
The team at IronKey is smart and interesting and fully engaged in their work—work that impresses and inspires me. The work environment is relaxed and comfortable, and Valeria, who will, should I accept the position, be my direct supervisor, is warm and kind but also exacting in a way that works for my brain. I can already tell I would enjoy working for her—with her—and leading a team of scientists I’ve already grown to respect would be incredible.
By the time I’m back at the hotel on Thursday evening, it’s hard to imaginenottaking the job.
The only trouble is, it’s equally difficult to imagine living without Sophie in my life. It’s taken all my willpower not to call her the last few days. We’ve texted a few times, but we haven’t spoken. And the distance feels unnatural. I’ve been keeping a list of all the things I’d like to tell her when we speak again, everything from the serious and important—Valeria told me point blank that I’m the brightest talent in data science she’s seen since she started with the company ten years ago—to the completely random—they sell this soda in North Carolina called Cheerwine that Sophie would definitely love, even though it’s too sweet for me.
The past few nights, right before falling asleep, I’ve let myself indulge in the idea that maybe I could have the best of both worlds. I could take this job, build a life in Charlotte, and Sophie could live here with me.
I would never ask her to make such a sacrifice. Serendipity Springs is her home, and she’s always loved it there. She has her mom, her friendship with Willa, her job, the rooftop garden. But all those logical thoughts aren’t doing a very good job of convincing my heart to stop wishing for it anyway. To stop wishing for her.
But then, all the wishing in the world won’t matter if she decides to be with David.
I tug at my tie, loosening the knot before pulling it free and tossing it onto the bed.Thosethoughts have also been dogging me all week, doing their best to squelch my optimism and hope and replace it with a sort of melancholy acceptance.
The flower hasn’t lied to Sophie so far.
Why would it be wrong this time?
One more day in the office, then I’ll fly back to Serendipity Springs on Saturday morning, and I’ll have to face Sophie and find out the truth. I just don’t know whatmyhalf of the truth will be.
Will I take the job? Or will I stay in Serendipity Springs for her? For us?
Maybe I won’t be able to make a choice until she makes hers.
I toe off my shoes, then unbutton my dress shirt, but then the hotel room phone lets out a jolting ring, and I pause—I didn’t even realize hotels still have room phones—leaving the shirt on as I cross to the desk to answer it.
“Hello?” I say into the receiver.
“Good evening. This is Joni from the front desk. You have a visitor here to see you. Are you expecting anyone this evening?”
“Uh, no, not that I know of.”
“Very good, sir,” Joni says in a very professional tone. “Your privacy is our utmost concern, so I’ll let the visitor know.”
“Wait,” I say. “Can you tell me who it is?”
Joni sniffs. “One moment.” A brief pause passes before Joni returns and says, “She says her name is Sophie Stewart.”
