Page 85 of My Kinda Song (Summer Sisters 3)

Love me the way I love him.

* * *

My pulse hammers in my throat as I walk down the corridor. I want to glance over my shoulder at the wooden door across the hall, but keep my focus straight ahead. My movements are almost sluggish as I stick my key in the knob and give it a twist. Sighing deeply and allowing my eyes to close briefly, the quiet of the hallway surrounds me, choking what little life remains.

I’m not sure which hurts more: the fact that he abided by my wishes and left me alone, or the fact that he didn’t.

Stepping inside, I gently close and lock my door. There’s no movement, barely any noise from within my space except the ticking of the clock and the sporadic drip from the kitchen sink. Dropping my bag on the floor beside the door, I step further into my kitchen, and that’s when I see it: a potted deep purple orchid.

My favorite.

Stepping up to the flowering plant, I can’t help but bend down and inhale deeply. It’s so fragrant and exotic, and brings an instant smile to my face.

He remembered.

A big part of me wants to run across the hall, throw my arms around him, and vow to forgive him for everything he’s ever done and probably will do in the future. But I keep myself rooted in place. My grandpa’s right. I need to spend some time alone, thinking about what I want from our relationship and where I see it heading. I need to make sure I know what I want with my life first, then I can take the next step; hopefully, with Levi. Next up would be speaking to him and hearing him out.

It’s an easy enough plan; let’s just see if I can hold to it.

Retrieving my bag, I head to my bedroom to unpack and start a load of laundry. Stepping into my bedroom, I’m shocked and amazed by the sight. My bedroom is covered in roses. Vases everywhere. On my dresser, on my nightstands, against the walls. The bedspread and floor are covered in dark red petals.

With wobbly legs, I walk over to my pillow where a rectangular envelope sits, perched up by a single red rose. My hands shake as I pull the small postcard-sized card from within. It’s hard to read, but not because of his horrible chicken scratch handwriting. No, it’s difficult to see through the tears clouding my eyes.

My sweetest Abby,

There’s a rose here for every time I’ve thought of you since last night. A petal for every minute my heart beat for only you. Take the time you need, but know that I am thinking of you, my arms ready to hold you, my lips ready to kiss you, my heart ready to be given to you.

I’m yours.

Always have been. Always will be.

Levi

I burst into tears once more, those big body-shaking sobs that turn even the hardest woman into a little girl.

I’m so confused and angry and sad and happy. How can a man who played a lowdown dirty trick on his best friend write such sweet words that melt my heart until it’s a puddle at my feet?

Because he’s not that kinda man, stupid.

I know that, in my heart of hearts, Levi didn’t mean to hurt me. He couldn’t. Not the man who cried with me when I broke my arm in seventh grade, helped pull the rocks from my knees when I wrecked my bike at ten years old, and beat the shit out of Joel Harper for calling me a nerd senior year of high school.

My Levi isn’t cruel and wouldn’t do the things my head is accusing him of. There’s more to the story; there has to be. Fate isn’t harsh enough to make me fall in love with my best friend only for him to be the monster he has always protected me from.

With a new sense of purpose, I’m determined to find out why he lied to me. Heading into my office, I fire up my computer. It takes way too long. My anxiety is high as I bounce both legs in anticipation and impatience. As soon as the home screen is up, I log on to PerfectDate.com and reactivate my account. Everything is basically as I left it (of course it is, no one could contact you, dummy).

I find my message thread with SimpleMan easily, mostly because it’s one of the only ones there. The final message I sent, accompanied by the photo, stares back at me from the screen.

AngelEyes: I never expected that the one person to hurt me this badly would be you.

Typing a new response, I click send before I can talk myself out of it.

AngelEyes: I don’t know why you did what you did, but I want to know. No, I need to know. I don’t believe you did it to hurt me, even though that’s where my mind originally went. That’s on me, and for that, I’m sorry.

The message bubbles don’t appear, but I guess they wouldn’t if he is at work. I wait a few more minutes, but still don’t get a reply. And I’m sure he’s not trolling the dating site, especially after I deactivated my page the moment I ousted him via the dating website.

Or could he be?

No. No, Abby, don’t go there. He wouldn’t have bought your sister out of roses if he was still manwhoring his way through Jupiter Bay and the western half of Virginia.

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